Xiii Emojis & Text

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new xi xi dot art xi text art xi ascii art dot art text art ascii art

JUST A TOUCH ix
(Autistic author)


Plankton's antennae quiver with
frustration. "It's about the order,"
he repeats, his voice strained.
"Everything needs order."

Squidward sighs, his tentacles
flapping in exasperation. "Look,
I don't know what's gotten into
you, but we need to get these
dishes done, and we can't do that
if you're going to micromanage
every single one!"

Plankton's antennae droop.
"Needs thorough..."

Squidward throws his tentacles
up in the air. "I don't care
about your 'thoroughness' right
now!" he exclaims. "Just let me do
my job!"

Plankton's antennae flatten.
"No!" he shouts, his voice echoing
off the stainless steel walls.

Squidward turns, his tentacles
poised for a fight. "What is your
problem?" he snaps. Plankton's
eye darts around, his heart racing.
He can't explain the sudden
urgency, the need for order that's
consuming him. The need to be
perfectly cleansed without blemish.

"It's just... it's just..." Plankton
stammers, his antennae drooping.

Squidward's eyes narrow, his
tentacles still. "What's the matter
with you?" he asks, his voice
edged with irritation. Plankton
swallows, his throat tight. "Needs
good.."

But before he can say more,
his gaze locks onto a speck of
dirt on a plate. The world
around him fades away as he
reaches for it, his movements
slow and deliberate.

Squidward watches him, his
expression a mix of confusion
and annoyance. "What is
that?" he asks, his tone sharp.

Plankton's antennae twitch, his
eye focusing on the speck.
"Dirt," he whispers, his voice
laced with distress. "Has to be
gone." His hand shakes as he
reaches for the plate, his mind
consumed by the need to remove
the imperfection.

Squidward snatches the plate,
his tentacles firm. "It's just a
tiny speck!" he says, his voice
loud. Plankton's antennae shoot
up, his body stiffening. "Can't
have dirt," he murmurs.

The room seems to close in,
his heart hammering in his chest.
The need for order, for
everything to be just so, is a
wave crushing down on him.
Squidward's face swims in
his vision, a blur of impatience.
"Squidward," he says, his voice
steadying. "It's dirty."

Squidward's grip on the plate
doesn't waver. "It's not dirty,"
he says, his tone firm. "It's a
tiny speck."

But to Plankton, that speck
is a boulder, a symbol of the
chaos he can't control. His
antennas quiver as he stares
at the offending spot, his
breaths coming in short, sharp
gasps. The world narrows to just
the dish, the speck, and the
overwhelming need to erase it.

Squidward reaches out a tentacle,
to move him aside, reaching
to touch Plankton's shoulder. But
before he can make contact,
Plankton flinches, his eye
snapping up to meet Squidward's.

"Don't," he says, his voice
sharp. "No touch."
"Then move so I can mix
the dishes.."
The words hit Plankton like a
wave, sending him spiraling.
He can't explain it, but the
thought of Squidward's tentacle
touching him sends a shiver
down his spine. But the only
alternative is to result in
disordered dishes!

Squidward's grip on the plate
doesn't change, his tentacle
poised to push Plankton aside.
"Please," Plankton whispers, his
voice trembling. "No..."

SpongeBob watches from a
distance, his smile fading.
He's noticed the changes
in Plankton, the way his
movements have become so
precise, his speech so formal.
But he doesn't know what to say,
what to do.

Squidward's tentacle hovers,
his gaze flicking from the
plate to Plankton's face. "I'm
in charge, not you!" He says
shoving Plankton as he mixes
the dishes. That's it.

The room spins around Plankton,
his vision blurring with the
sudden assault. The clatter of
plates, the smell of grease,
the touch of Squidward's tentacle—
it's too much. His body reacts
before his brain can catch up, 
the partygoers' laughter
a distant echo in Plankton's ringing
ears.

"Plankton?" Squidward asks,
his voice a distant rumble as
SpongeBob comes in.

Plankton's vaguely aware of
his surroundings, but it's all just
white noise, his gaze going
blank as the absence seizure
starts up.

new just a touch neurodisability ix

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

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

GREAT CHIP ix
(Autistic author)

Chip took a deep breath, trying
to compose himself. "I know I can't
fix you, Dad," he said, his voice shaking.

Plankton's antennae stopped moving,
his eye focusing on Chip with an intensity
that made him feel like he was being x-rayed.
"You can't," he said, his voice firm. "But you
can support me. You can be there without
trying to change me."

Chip nodded, swallowing the lump
in his throat. "Okay," he managed to say.
"But I want to understand. I want
to be here for you."

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his eye narrowing slightly. "Understand?"
he echoed, his tone laced with sarcasm.
"Sure, it's easy. Just imagine your
brain's a pinball machine on tilt. Sounds
fun, right?"

Chip felt a smile tug at the corner
of his mouth despite the tension,
which only adds to Plankton's anger.
"Well, when you put it that way..."

Plankton's antennae stilled, his
eye squinting at his son's response.
"What?" he barked, his voice
sharp.

Chip tried to hold onto his smile,
his heart racing. "I mean,
if it's like a pinball machine, I can
learn the patterns," he said, his tone
carefully light. "I'm pretty good at video
games, so..."

Plankton's antennae waved wildly,
his eye flashing with anger. "You think
this is a game?" he shouted, his voice
filling the room. "You think
I enjoy being out of control? WELL THEN
PERHAPS YOU CAN EXPLAIN THE FUN OF FORGETTING
WHERE I AM FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME!"

Chip's smile dropped, his eyes wide
with shock at his father's outburst.
He took a step back, his hands up
in a gesture of peace. "I'm sorry,"
he said quickly, his voice trembling.
"I didn't mean to make a joke of it, I
just..."

"You just what?" Plankton spat, his
small body vibrating with rage. "You just
don't get it! You can't get it! You're not
autistic, you don't know what it's like to have
your brain turn on you like that!"

Chip's eyes filled with tears,
his heart breaking at the accusation.
"I know, Dad," he said, his voice
barely above a whisper. "But I'm trying."

Plankton's antennae quivered with
the force of his rage. "You don't know,"
he said, his voice cold. "You can't know.
All I see is a little child playing pretend,
thinking he can understand what I go 
through! And yet you're the one asking
for help! Face it, you're never going to get 
it and so don't expect ME to explain it to you!"

Chip's eyes watered, the words hitting
like a sledgehammer. He had never seen
his father so furious, so unyielding. "I'm sorry,"
he whispered, his voice shaking. "I just want 
to help."

Plankton's antennae stopped their wild
movements, his eye focusing on his son with
a cold, calculating gaze. "Help?" he repeated,
his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You want to
help by poking fun at my condition?"

Chip's eyes searched his father's,
his heart racing. "Dad, I didn't mean it
like that," he said, his voice trembling.
"I just wanted to lighten the mood."

Plankton's antennae waved, his eye
still cold and distant. "Don't," he said,
his voice like ice. "Don't try to lighten
it. And don't you DARE make fun of it."

Chip's eyes fell to the floor,
his heart aching with the weight of his
father's anger. "I'm sorry," he whispered,
his voice trembling. "I di-"

"You're sorry?" Plankton's voice
was a whip crack in the silence. "Sorry
doesn't cut it!" He slammed his fist
on the table, causing their plates to rattle.
"You think an apology is enough
when you belittle what I go through?"

Chip's eyes widened with fear
as his dad's anger grew. He'd never
seen Plankton like this before, his
tiny body trembling with rage, his antennae
thrashing like live wires. The kitchen
felt suffocatingly small, the walls closing in.

"Dad, please," Chip begged, his voice
shaking. "I didn't mean it that way."

But Plankton was beyond listening, his
tiny body vibrating with fury. "You don't get to
make jokes about this!" he roared, his antennae
whipping about like agitated snakes. "You don't get to
reduce it to a game you can win with a simple joke!"

Chip took another step back, his heart
pounding in his chest. He had never seen
his father this enraged, and it scared him. "Dad, I-"
he began, but Plankton's tirade didn't stop.

"You think it's funny?" Plankton shouted,
his antennae a blur of motion. "You think
it's fun to live with this?" His voice grew
louder, his words sharper. "You think it's
easy to lighten up at the drop of a hat?"

Chip's eyes filled with tears as
his father's anger grew, his voice
crackling like static. He hadn't meant to make
light of his dad's condition, but now it
seemed as if he'd made everything worse.
"I'm sorry," he choked out, his hands
shaking.

Plankton's antennae whipped around
his head, his eye bulging. "Sorry won't
make it go away!" he screamed, his voice
bouncing off the walls. "You think you can
make it better with a laugh?" He slammed
his fist down again, the sound like a gunshot.
"It's not a joke, Chip!"

Chip's eyes filled with tears as he watched
his father's outburst, his heart pounding.
He had never seen Plankton like this,
his anger a living, breathing thing that filled
the room like a toxic cloud. "I know," he whispered,
his voice shaking. "But I want to help."

Plankton's antennae thrashed wildly, his
body shaking with the force of his emotions.
"Help?" he spat, his voice a whip. "You want
to help? Then stop making it about you!"

Chip's eyes grew wide with fear
as he watched his father's anger
boil over, his voice shaking. "Dad, please,"
he whispered, his heart racing.

Plankton's antennae thrashed wildly,
his body vibrating with uncontrollable
rage. Suddenly, he grabbed the
coffee mug from the table,
flinging it across the room
where it shattered against the wall.
Shards of ceramic flew everywhere,
puncturing the silence like shrapnel.

"Dad, no!" Chip yelled, his heart racing
faster than it ever had before. He had
never seen Plankton this out of control.
And Karen knew she had to act fast.

Her voice was calm but firm as
she approached Plankton. "Sweetie,
it's okay," she said, her hands up in a
non-threatening gesture. "Let's go
to your workshop. You know that's your
safe space."

Plankton's antennae thrashed, his
eye darting around the room, seeking
anything to target his anger. "I don't
want to go anywhere!" he roared, his
body shaking with the intensity of
his emotions. "It's not okay!"

Karen stepped closer, her voice
steady. "It's okay to be upset,"
she said, her eyes never leaving
his. "But Chip..."

But Plankton's rage was unstoppable.
He lunged for the nearest object,
a framed photo of Chip,
his grip tightening as he raised it
over his head, ready to smash it
against the floor.

Karen's eyes widened, her heart
pounding in her chest. She had
to defuse the situation before it
got any worse. "Plankton, no," she
pleaded, her voice steady. "Please,
don't."

But Plankton's rage had taken over,
his body moving on autopilot as he
swung the photo frame with all his might.
It crashed to the floor, the shattering
glass echoing in the small room.
Chip's eyes grew round with shock,
his body frozen in place as he watched
his father's tantrum unfold.

"Dad, please stop!" he shouted, his voice
cracking with fear. "You're scaring me!"

But Plankton's rage was a runaway train,
his antennae quivering with the intensity
of his anger. He stomped over to the counter,
grabbing a plate and flinging it against
the wall, where it shattered into a hundred
tiny pieces. The sound was deafening, the force
of the impact sending a shiver down Chip's spine.

Karen stepped in front of Chip,
placing herself between him and the storm
of Plankton's fury. "Stop," she said firmly,
her voice a calm oasis in the chaos.
"You're scaring him."

Plankton's antennae stilled, his
eye focusing on Karen with a mix
of anger and confusion. For a moment,
his body seemed to pause, his arm
still mid-air, a kitchen towel gripped tightly
in his hand. Then, with a roar, he threw it,
the soft fabric landing limply on the floor.

Karen's eyes searched her husband's,
seeing the turmoil behind the rage.
"Please, Plankton," she said, her voice
soothing. "Let's talk about this."

But Plankton's anger was like a
wildfire, consuming everything in its path.
He picked up another mug, his arm
winding up to throw it, when Chip
suddenly stepped forward, his eyes
locked on his father's. "Dad," he said,
his voice shaking. "Please don't."

Plankton's antennae paused, his
arm still raised. "WHY?" he growled,
his eye wild with anger. "You think
you can just tell me what to do?" And
then, with a sickly twisted satisfaction,
Plankton hurled the mug in front of
Chip, purposefully missing him.

The room seemed to hold its breath
as the mug spun through the air,
the shattering of porcelain on the
tile floor a symphony of pain. "Dad,"
Chip said, his voice shaking. "It's not
about control. It's about us. Our fam..."

But Plankton was beyond words,
his rage a living entity that
consumed him. He grabbed a toaster,
his grip white-knuckled, and hurled
it at the fridge, the metallic clang
a cacophony in the small kitchen.
"I DON'T NEED YOUR SYMPATHY!"
he bellowed, his antennae a blur.

new great chip familycore ix

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

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

CHIP AND FAIL ix
(Autistic author)

Chip stared at his dad, his mind
racing. He had always known his
dad was different, but he had
never understood why. Now, as
he watched the man he idolized
quivering with overstimulation, he
couldn't help but feel a deep sadness
and anger. "Why didn't you tell
me?" he asked, his voice tight.

Plankton's antennae shot up, his
face contorting with a sudden
surge of anger.

"ENOUGH!" he roared, the sound
exploding from his chest like a
bomb, his antennae quivering with
each syllable. "Do you have any
idea what you're doing to me?"

Chip recoiled, his eyes wide with
shock. He had never heard his dad
so angry before, never seen him
so out of control. "Dad, I'm sorry,"
he stammered, his voice thick with
unshed tears.

"You're sorry?" Plankton spat,
his antennae vibrating with rage.
"You don't get it, Chip. You never
will." His voice was a storm,
his words cutting through the
tension in the room. "You think
I don't want to hear your stories?
You think I don't want to be a part
of your life?" His body trembled
with the force of his emotions, his
eye blazing with pain.

Chip took a step back, his
hands up in defense. "Dad, no, I..."

But Plankton was a tornado,
his anger a living thing in the
room. "You think I don't want to
connect with you?" he shouted, his
antennas whipping around. "You think
I don't love you?" His voice broke,
his body shaking with the effort of
holding back his tears.

Chip stared at his dad, his eyes
like saucers. "But Dad, you always
push me away," he protested, his voice
tiny in the face of Plankton's fury. "You
never want me to touch you or..."

"You just let me explain!" Plankton
shouted, cutting him off. His antennae
were a blur with the force of his
emotions, his eye flashing. "You always
keep pushing and pushing, and it's too
much!" His words were a volley of
thunder, each one striking Chip like a
physical blow.

Chip took a step back, his eyes
filling with tears. "But Dad, I just
want to be close to you," he choked
out, his voice a mere wisp. "I don't
understand why you can't..."

"Because you don't listen!" Plankton's
voice was a whip, slicing through
the air. "You don't see the
storm in my head, the way every
touch feels like a storm, every
sound a siren!" His antennae
quivered with rage, his body tense.
"You think it's easy for me? That I
don't want to be there for you?"

Chip took another step back, his
hands up in defense. "I didn't
know," he whispered, his eyes
brimming with tears. "I just wanted
to tell you about my week." He says
reaching out with a trembling
hand, but Plankton's swatting 
Chip's hand away.

"Don't. Touch. Me!" Plankton roared, his
body trembling with rage. "Can't you
see that?" His voice was a knife,
sharp and unforgiving. "And don't
you DARE say you're better off without
me!" His eye blazed with a fierce
protectiveness that Chip had never
seen before.

Chip's hand hovered in the air, his
fingers curling into a fist. "But Dad," he
choked out, his voice thick with
unshed tears, "I just want to be
close to you." He took a step closer...

"NO!" Plankton shouted, his antennae
snapping like whips. "You don't get
to invade my space like that!" His
body was a live wire, his anger a
force field that repelled Chip's
reaching hand. "You think it's
funny?" His voice was a maelstrom
of pain and fury.

Chip's eyes filled with tears, his
hand dropping to his side. "I just
wanted to help," he murmured, his voice
tiny in the face of his father's
storm.

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II ix

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM ix

(Autistic author)


The silence in the room
was suffocating, the 
echo of Mr. Krabs' 
footsteps the only 
sound as he retreated 
to his home, his 
heart feeling heavier 
than his treasure chest.

Sponge Bob's heart torn 
between pity and 
frustration. He looked 
at Plankton, 
his friend's gaze 
still locked on the 
chessboard, his 
body a portrait of 
rejection.

"Plankton," he 
whispered, his voice 
full of pain.
But Plankton didn't 
move, his antennas 
twitching slightly.

Sponge Bob felt a 
lump form in his 
throat, his eyes 
brimming with tears. 
He didn't know what to 
do, what to say, to 
make things right. 
He glanced at Karen, 
her lights dimming 
slightly with sadness.

"I'll leave you two 
to talk." With a nod to 
Sponge Bob, she left 
the room, leaving them 
alone in the 
stifling silence.

Sponge Bob approached 
Plankton cautiously, 
his heart pounding.

"What can I do?"
he asked, his voice 
barely a whisper.

Plankton's antennas 
twitched slightly, but 
he didn't look up. 
"Nothing," he murmured, 
his voice flat. "Cannot 
change."

Sponge Bob's eyes 
welled with tears.
"I mean right now, I
can do what you want
me to," he pleaded. 
"You're my best friend, 
Plankton."

Plankton's antennas 
lifted, his single 
eye meeting Sponge 
Bob's gaze.

"We can talk, we can play
a game, we can watch some
thing..."

Plankton's antennas 
remained still, his 
expression unreadable.
"Watch," he said finally, 
his voice devoid of 
enthusiasm.

Sponge Bob nodded, 
his heart heavy with 
disappointment. He knew 
his friend needed 
space, and he would give 
it to him.

The screen flickered 
to life. Sponge 
Bob felt a pang of 
despair, his hand hovering 
over the remote. 
"Is this okay?" he 
asked, his voice 
trembling.

Plankton nodded, his 
gaze unfocused. "Okay," 
he murmured.

Sponge Bob 
selected a nature 
documentary, knowing 
Plankton. They 
sat in silence as the 
soothing sounds of the 
ocean filled the room, 
the TV's blue light 
washing over them. Plankton's 
body relaxed slightly, 
his antennas still as he 
watched. 
Sponge Bob felt a 
tiny spark of hope when
Plankton scoots up next
to him.

The documentary 
played on, the narrator's 
soothing voice detailing 
the lives of jellyfish.
Sponge Bob watched 
Plankton from the 
corner of his eye, 
his heart aching at the 
sight of his friend's 
vacant gaze. 
He reached over and 
gently placed his hand 
on Plankton's shoulder, 
his touch tentative.

Plankton didn't flinch, 
his eye never leaving 
the screen. Sponge Bob
swallowed the lump in 
his throat and whispered,
"I'm here for you."

Plankton's antenna 
twitched slightly, a 
barely perceptible 
acknowledgment. The 
silence stretched on, the 
only sound the rhythmic 
pulse of the jellyfish 
through the speakers.

Sponge Bob's hand 
remained on Plankton's 
shoulder, his thumb 
making small, comforting 
circles.

As the 
documentary droned on, 
Plankton's antennas 
gradually lost their 
rigidity, drooping 
slightly with each 
passing moment.

The rhythmic 
pulse of the jellyfish 
on the screen seemed to 
lull him into a state 
of quiet contemplation. 
His gaze grew unfocused,
his eyelid fluttered once,
then twice, before 
finally settling shut.
Plankton's tiny frame relaxed into 
SpongeBob's side, breathing 
evening out. His hand 
remained on Plankton's 
shoulder, his thumb 
continuing to make 
small circles as his 
friend slipped into 
slumber.

When SpongeBob turned off
the tv, he noticed Plankton's 
head drooped to the side
with a soft snore, 
his body gone slack.
Plankton was asleep, 
his chest rising and falling
in a gentle rhythm.

The yellow sponge felt a 
wave of relief wash over 
him as he realized that 
his friend had finally 
found some peace.
He carefully scooted Plankton 
closer.
He knew Plankton needed 
his rest, especially with 
his brain trying to 
adjust to this new 
reality.

Karen came back in to see 
Plankton's antennas limp 
and Sponge Bob's hand on 
his shoulder. She nodded 
gently at the sponge, who 
looked up and sighed.

"It's 
ok to let him rest. He's 
been through a lot." She says.

Sponge Bob nods, his 
grip on Plankton's 
shoulder tightening 
slightly. "I know. I 
just want to help," 
he replies, his voice 
barely audible over 
Plankton's soft snores.

Karen's lights flicker 
gently. "You are helping 
by being here, Sponge 
Bob. Just give him 
time and space to 
adjust."

Sponge Bob nods, 
his eyes never leaving 
Plankton's sleeping 
face. "I'll do 
anything for him."

Karen's light blips. 
"I know you will. But 
for now, let's get him 
to his bed."

Sponge Bob nods, 
carefully scooping up 
Plankton, cradling him 
like a fragile shell. He 
carries him to the 
bedroom. 
He lays him down, 
tucking the blanket 
under his chin with 
extra care.

Plankton's snores 
soften into a gentle 
purr, his antennas 
twitching slightly 
in his 
sleep.

Sponge Bob pulls 
up a chair beside 
the bed, his 
eyes never leaving 
his friend's face. He 
feels a heavy 
responsibility, a 
desire to be there 
for Plankton in ways 
he's never had to before.

As the minutes 
tick by, Sponge Bob 
begins to feel the 
weight of the day's 
events. His eyes 
grow heavy, his 
body swaying with 
exhaustion. Despite 
his resolve, he 
can't keep his 
lids open any longer.

With a yawn, he 
collapses into the 
chair beside 
Plankton's bed, his 
head lolling to the 
side. His eyes 
close.

Plankton opens his eye to 
find Sponge Bob 
asleep next to him.

Plankton's gaze lingers 
on the sponge, his 
expression unreadable. 
He moves his antennas 
slightly, testing the 
boundaries of his 
new reality. The 
weight of Mr. Krabs' 
apology and his own 
words hang heavy on him.

With a deep sigh, 
he knew that 
his relationship with 
Mr. Krabs was 
irrevocably changed, 
but he hadn't expected 
the sadness that 
accompanied the 
realization.

He watched as 
Sponge Bob's chest 
lifted and fell in a 
steady rhythm, 
his grip on the 
blanket tight.

A strange warmth 
spread through 
Plankton's 
heart, something 
he hadn't felt in 
a long time. 
Sponge Bob had 
always been his 
friend, even when he 
was at his worst.

But this...
This was different.
This was someone 
sticking by him, not 
because they had to, 
but because they 
wanted to.

The warmth grew, 
spreading through 
Plankton like a gentle 
current. It was 
unfamiliar, but not 
unpleasant. He had 
felt it before, with 
Karen. Yet this was 
a different kind of warmth.
This was friendship, 
pure and untainted by 
the greed that usually 
consumed him before...

He studied Sponge 
Bob's peaceful 
face, his mind 
racing. This sponge, 
his enemy's best 
worker, had shown 
more kindness and 
understanding in the 
past few hours than 
anyone else in his life,
other than Karen. 
And for what? A 
chance at the Krabby 
formula? No, 
for him. For Plankton.

The warmth grew 
stronger, 
pushing out the 
coldness that 
usually dominated 
his thoughts. He 
felt a strange 
urge to reciprocate, 
to be... nicer.

Sponge Bob stirred, 
his eyes fluttering 
open. "Plankton?"
he mumbles, his 
voice thick with sleep.

Plankton's antennas 
lift slightly, his 
single eye focusing 
on the yellow 
form beside him.

"Yes, Sponge Bob," he 
replies, his voice 
gentler than before.

Sponge Bob sits up 
with a start. "How
long have you been up?"
he asks, his eyes 
searching Plankton's 
face for any sign 
of pain or distress.

Plankton's antennas 
twitch slightly. "Not 
long," he murmurs, 
his gaze lingering 
on Sponge Bob.

Sponge Bob's 
expression is a 
mixture of relief 
and concern. "Do you 
want to talk?" he 
asks, his voice 
gentle.

Plankton's antennas 
wave slightly, a 
tiny nod of his 
head. "Talk," he 
echoes, his voice 
soft.

Sponge Bob takes a 
deep breath, trying 
to form the words 
he desperately 
wants to say. "I 
just... I want you to 
know that I'm here 
for you, Plankton," he 
says, his voice 
shaking.

Plankton's antennas 
wave slightly, and 
his eye narrows. "Here 
for Plankton," he echoes, 
his voice flat.

Sponge Bob's eyes 
fill with tears. "Yes, 
Plankton," he whispers. 
"Always."

Plankton's antennas 
twitch again, the 
word "always" echoing 
in his mind. "Always," 
he murmurs. 

new a journey to autism plankbobs ix

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS ix

(Autistic Author)


As Karen heads back to her own bed, her mind is a 
whirlwind of emotions. She can't help but feel a twinge 
of anger at the cruel hand life has dealt Plankton, 
making something as simple as expressing love a 
monumental challenge. But she quickly pushes it aside, 
focusing on the love she feels for her husband and the 
determination to help their family navigate through this.

The night passes slowly, filled with restlessness 
and worry. When dawn breaks, Karen is already preparing
breakfast, hoping that the routine might offer a semblance 
of normalcy. The smell of pancakes fills the house, a silent 
promise that today will be better.

Plankton emerges from the bedroom, 
his antennae drooping slightly, evidence 
of his fatigue. He meets Karen's gaze, 
and she offers him a soft smile. "How 
are you feeling?" she asks, her voice 
gentle.

He shrugs, his antennae twitching 
nervously. "Tired," he admits. "But ready 
to talk to Chip."

Karen nods with a mix of concern and 
admiration. "I'll get him up," she says, 
heading to Chip's room.

When they all gather at the breakfast 
table, the tension in the air is palpable. 
Plankton sits stiffly, his antennae barely 
moving, as if afraid to break the delicate 
silence. Chip looks between them, his 
eyes wide and hopeful.

"Chip," Karen says gently, taking a deep 
breath. "Remember what we talked 
about last night? About Daddy's 
meltdowns?"

Chip nods, his eyes darting to Plankton, 
who's pushing his pancake around with 
a syrupy look of dread.

"Daddy?" he says, his voice tentative.

Plankton's antennae twitch, and he 
looks up, his gaze meeting Chip's. The 
fear and confusion in Chip's eyes is 
almost too much to bear, but he steels 
himself. "Yes, buddy?" he asks, his 
voice hoarse from the previous night's 
outburst.

"I made you this," Chip says, pushing a 
plate of perfectly formed pancakes 
towards his father. "To make you feel 
better."

Plankton's antennae perk up slightly at 
the gesture, his eye focusing on the food 
with a hint of curiosity. "Thanks, buddy," 
he murmurs, his voice still thick with 
sleep.

Chip's eyes are glued to his father, his 
heart pounding in anticipation of a 
reaction. "Do you like them?" he asks, 
hope blooming in his voice.

Plankton nods, his antennae waving 
slightly. "They look delicious," he says, 
and there's a hint of a smile in his voice. 
He takes a bite, chewing slowly. The 
room holds its breath, waiting.

"They're great," he finally says, and 
Chip's face lights up. The tension in the 
room eases ever so slightly, the 
sweetness of the maple syrup mingling 
with the salty scent of fear that still 
lingers.

Karen watches the exchange, her heart 
swelling with pride for both of them. 
Plankton's effort to engage, despite his 
exhaustion, is clear. Chip, for his part, 
seems to understand the unspoken 
rules of their new reality. They're all 
learning together, stumbling in the dark 
but finding their way through the maze 
of neurodivergence.

"Daddy," Chip says after a moment, his 
voice filled with courage. "I know you 
have meltdowns sometimes. But I still 
love you."

Plankton's antennae droop slightly, his 
chewing slowing. He looks at his son, 
his single eye filled with a mix of 
emotions: love, regret, and a hint of fear. 
"I know, buddy," he whispers. "And I 
too."

The room remains quiet, the only sound
the soft clinking of silverware against 
plates. Plankton clears his throat. "Chip, 
I need to tell you something."

Chip looks up, his eyes wide and 
expectant. "What is it, Daddy?"

Plankton takes a deep breath, his 
antennae fluttering. "I have something," 
he says slowly. "It's like... it's like my 
brain works differently than yours and 
Mommy's."

Chip's eyes never leave his dad's, 
nodding slightly. "Ok," he says, his voice 
steady.

Plankton's antennae twitch, and he 
looks down at his plate, his voice 
quivering. "It's called Autism," he says. 
"It means that sometimes, I get really, 
really upset, and my body reacts in ways 
that might scare you."

Chip's expression is a blend of confusion 
and curiosity. "But why do you 
get upset, Daddy?" he asks.

Plankton's antennae wiggle as he 
searches for the right words. 
"Sometimes, things that don't bother you 
or Mommy can feel really, really big to 
me," he explains. "It's like when you're 
scared of a thunderstorm, and the 
thunder feels like it's right next to you."

Chip's brow furrows, and he nods. "But 
you're not scared of storms, Daddy," he 
points out.

"It's different, bud," Plankton says, his 
antennae stilling for a moment. "It's 
like... sometimes my brain gets a storm 
inside, and I don't know how to make it 
stop."

Chip nods, his eyes never leaving 
Plankton's. "But you're ok now?" he 
asks, his voice small.

Plankton nods, his antennae moving in a 
way that Karen knows means he's trying 
to be brave. "I'm ok," he says, his voice 
a little stronger. "But I might have more 
storms. And when I do, I might need 
some space."

Chip looks at him seriously, his young 
mind working to understand. "Ok," he 
says, his voice a soft echo of Plankton's 
earlier apology. "I won't make it stormy 
for you, Daddy."

Plankton's antennae twitch with a mix of 
love and relief. "Thank you," he 
murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. 
"That means the world to me."

Karen watches them, her heart swelling 
with hope. Maybe, just maybe, this is the 
start of a new understanding.

"And you know," she adds, her voice 
gentle, "Whenever you have questions 
or if you're scared, you can come to me 
and/or Daddy, and we'll explain as best 
as we can."

Chip nods, his gaze still focused on 
Plankton. "But what if I don't know when 
I’m irritating you?"

Plankton's antennae droop, and he 
sighs. "That's the hard part," he admits. 
"Sometimes I don't know either. But we 
can learn together, ok?"

Chip nods, his eyes still on his dad's. 
"Ok," he says, his voice a little shaky.

Karen pours them both a glass of juice, 
hoping to lighten the mood. "Why don't 
we talk about what you can do to help?" 
she suggests, handing a glass to Chip.

Chip takes a sip, his eyes still on 
Plankton. "What can I do?" he asks, his 
voice earnest.

Plankton's antennae twitch thoughtfully. 
"Well," he says, "sometimes, all I need is 
a little space, like when I'm in the middle 
of a big idea."

Chip nods, remembering the times when 
Plankton would get so focused on his latest 
contraption that the slightest 
disturbance would send him into a tizzy. 
"I can do that," he says, his voice filled 
with determination.

Plankton's antennae lift slightly. "And 
when you do freeze, Dad," Chip 
continues, his voice soft, "How can I tell 
if you need a hug or if you just need me 
to sit with you?"

Karen's eyes fill with pride as she 
watches her son's bravery. Plankton 
looks at Chip, his antennae moving in a 
way that she knows means he's trying to 
find the right words. "If I freeze," he says 
slowly, "it's ok to just be there, to wait 
until I come back. I might not be able to 
hug you right then, but I'll know you're 
there."

Chip nods, his grip on his juice glass 
tightening slightly. "What about 
meltdowns?" he asks, his voice 
quivering.

Plankton's antennae droop, and he 
takes a deep breath. "Those are harder," 
he admits. "But if you can give me space 
and maybe some quiet, it'll help me calm 
down faster."

Chip nods solemnly, his eyes never 
leaving Plankton's. "I'll try," he says, his 
voice barely above a whisper. “Dad, 
what types of touch do you like and what 
types of affection do you dislike?”

Plankton's antennae twitch, and he 
looks at Karen for a moment, unsure of 
how to answer. She gives him a gentle 
nod of encouragement. "Well," he starts, 
"I'm not a big fan of surprise hugs or 
pats on the back, especially when I'm 
working or thinking hard. But a hand on 
my shoulder or a quiet 'I love you' is 
always nice."

Chip nods, processing the information. 
"So, like when you're stressed, I should 
just tell you I love you?"

Plankton's antennae wobble with the 
weight of his nod. "Yes," he says. "That's 
right. Just remember, buddy, everyone 
shows love differently."

Karen's eyes are filled with hope as she 
watches the conversation unfold. It's not 
perfect, but it's a start. A start to 
understanding and acceptance.

"And if you need more than that, 
Daddy?" Chip asks, his voice small but 
earnest.

Plankton looks at him, his antennae 
moving in a way that Karen can't quite 
read. "If I need more than that," he says, 
"I'll tell you. Or Mommy will help you 
understand."

Chip nods, taking another sip of his 
juice. "Ok," he says, his voice small. 
"But what if I don't know what to say?"

Plankton's antennae wiggle slightly, and 
he looks down at his plate. "That's ok, 
Chip," he says. "Sometimes, just sitting 
with me is enough."

new chip off the old talks neurodivergentcore ix

GREAT CHIP xiv
(Autistic author)

"I know it's hard, but I need you
to understand that. Sometimes,
I may not seem okay, but that's
because it's all too much," Plankton
explained, his voice a soft rumble. "But
you know what?" His antennae twitched
slightly, a glimmer of humor in his
eye. "Sometimes, I make jokes about it."

Chip's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
He'd never heard his father joke
about his condition before. "What do
you mean?" he asked, his voice tentative.

Plankton's antennae twitched with a
tiny smirk. "Well, when other people do it,
it feels like they're laughing at me,
not with me," he said, his voice a
fragile thread of self-awareness. "But when
I make jokes, it's like I'm the one in
control of the narrative. It's my way of
saying, 'I know I'm different, and that's okay.'"

Chip nodded slowly, understanding
dawning in his eyes. "So it's about
self-acceptance?" he ventured.

Plankton's antennae bobbed 
slightly. "Exactly," he said, his voice
a little stronger. "Only I can decide
how I want to be seen, how my
condition is talked about. And I'd
rather have other people respect me
by making sure I'm comfortable
than by just simply disregarding it."

Chip nodded, his eyes shining with
newfound respect for his father's
strength.

"I'll try to understand, Dad," he
promised, his voice earnest. "And
I'll just... I'll just be more careful."

Plankton's antennae twitched slightly,
his gaze meeting Chip's with a
melding of sadness and gratitude.
"Thank you," he murmured, his voice
barely audible over the fan's hum.

The silence in the room was no longer
oppressive but filled with a newfound
understanding, a gentle peace that seemed
to soothe the jagged edges of their
recent conflict.

Plankton's antennae stopped twitching,
his body relaxing into the embrace of the
plush blanket. "I just want to rest," he
whispered, his voice a soft echo in the
stillness. "Could you... could you just
stay here? Until I fall asleep?"

Chip nodded, his heart swelling
with love and regret. He sat there, his
body tense with the need to do more,
but he knew that sometimes, the most
important thing was just to be present.

He watched as Plankton's
breathing grew steadier, the shadows
on the ceiling dancing to the
rhythm of the fan's soft hum. His
father's antennae lay still against
his forehead, no longer a
testament to his agitation but a
symbol of his peaceful slumber.

The room was a sanctuary of
silence, the only sound the soft
whisper of the comforter as Plankton
moved slightly under its weight.
Chip felt a mix of emotions—fear,
guilt, love—but above all, a
renewed determination to be there for
his father, to learn and grow with him.

He sat, his eyes never leaving
Plankton's serene face, as the
minutes ticked by. The darkness outside
the window grew thicker, the moon
casting a gentle glow into the
room, painting the walls with
silver light. The quiet was a
comfort now, a balm to their
frazzled spirits.

Karen's footsteps were a soft
whisper on the floorboards as she
padded in, her eyes assessing the
situation with a practiced gaze.
"How's he doing?" she asked, her
voice a gentle caress in the silence.

"Better," Chip murmured, his eyes
still on his father. "He's asleep."

Karen nodded, her expression a
mixture of relief and concern.
"Why don't you get some rest too?"
she suggested, her hand on Chip's
shoulder.

Chip hesitated, his gaze flickering
from Plankton to his mother. "But
what if he wakes up?" he asked,
his voice a tentative whisper.

Karen's eyes softened, understanding
the fear that gripped him. "I'll stay,"
she assured. "You need to rest, too."

Chip nodded, his body sagging with
exhaustion. He leaned over, pressing
a gentle kiss to Plankton's forehead,
his antennae tickling him. "Love
you, Dad," he murmured, his voice a
whisper in the stillness.

Karen's hand squeezed his
shoulder. "I'll wake you if he needs
you," she promised, her eyes
shimmering with unshed tears.

With a nod, Chip reluctantly
stood, his legs wobbly from the
adrenaline rush. He turned to leave,
his gaze lingering on Plankton's still
form, before finally exiting the room.

The hallway was a stark contrast
to the warm cocoon of Plankton's
bedroom, the cold air a slap to
his cheeks. He took a deep breath,
his heart heavy with the weight
of his father's words.

In his own room, Chip lay on
his bed, his eyes staring at the
ceiling. The quiet was deafening,
his thoughts racing like a
thousand fish in a net.

He replayed the day's events,
each moment a sharp sting in the
ocean of his mind. The look on
his father's face when he'd
tried to hug him, the sound
of the lamp shattering, the
harshness of his own voice.

Chip's thoughts swirled like
a tornado of regret. He'd never
understood the depth of Plankton's
condition, the daily battles he faced.
He'd always seen his father's
quirks as just that—quirks. But
now, the reality was stark and
unyielding. Plankton's autism was
more than just a part of him; it was
his reality, his truth, and Chip had
been careless with it.

With a heavy sigh, Chip climbed
into bed, his mind racing. He
wished he could take back the
moments that had caused pain, to
rewind the clock and start again.
But life didn't work that way.

The house was eerily quiet, the
normally bustling undersea abode
now a testament to the gravity of
the evening's events. Chip
couldn't shake the image of
his father, frozen and vulnerable,
his antennae drooping like
deflated party balloons.

The next day dawned, a soft
glow seeping into the room. Chip's
eyes snapped open, his heart racing
as he remembered the previous night.
He threw off the covers and tiptoed
to his father's room, his bare feet
slapping against the cold tile floor.

Karen was already there, sitting
on the edge of the bed, her hand on
Plankton's shoulder. The soft light of
morning painted the scene in gentle
hues, a stark contrast to the shadows
of the night before. "How's he doing?"
Chip asked, his voice hoarse.

"Better," Karen whispered, her
smile a beacon in the early light.
"He's still sleeping."

The relief on Chip's face was
palpable as he approached the
bed. Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly, a sign of his dreams.
Chip's heart skipped a beat at
the sight, a silent promise to do
better, to be more understanding.

"He's been sleeping peacefully,"
Karen assured, her voice a gentle
wave lapping against the shore.
"I'll make us some breakfast."
Her footsteps receded, leaving Chip
alone with his sleeping father.

Plankton's antennae twitched
in his sleep, and Chip felt a
wave of guilt crash over him. He
carefully sat on the edge of the bed,
his hand hovering over the blanket.
He wanted to touch, to reassure, but
his earlier misstep was still
fresh in his mind. Instead, he
simply watched, his eyes tracing the
outline of Plankton's form beneath
the fabric.

The smell of pancakes began to
waft up from the kitchen, a
comforting scent that seemed to
soothe the tension in the room.
Chip took a deep breath, filling
his lungs with the sweet aroma.
He knew today would be a new
beginning, a chance to mend the
fragile threads of their bond.

As Karen's footsteps retreated,
the silence grew heavier, pressing
against the walls like the water
outside their windows. Chip's heart
beat a staccato rhythm. He reached out
slowly, his hand hovering over
Plankton's hand.

For a moment, he didn't move,
just breathed, feeling the weight of
his father's slumber. Then, with a
careful, almost reverent touch, he
covered Plankton's hand with his own.

The warmth of his father's skin
was a comfort, a reminder that
despite the turbulent waters they'd
navigated the night before, they were
still connected. Plankton's antennae
twitched in his sleep, and Chip held his
breath, fearful that he'd woken him.
But his father's eye remained closed,
his chest rising and falling in a steady
rhythm.

The silence stretched, a
testament to their newfound
understanding. Chip felt a
swell of emotion, a mix of love and
regret. He didn't want to let go, but
he knew he had to allow Plankton his
space, his privacy. So he gently lifted
his hand, placing it in his lap, the
memory of their shared warmth
lingering like a warm embrace.

He took a deep breath, his
chest tight with the weight of his
resolve. He would be there for his
father, no matter what. He would learn
about his condition, listen to his
needs, and support him without
smothering him. It was a delicate
balance, one that Chip knew he might
not always get right, but he was
determined to try.

new great chip comfortfic xiv

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

7️⃣

new siete seven number 7 twenty thirteen several vii cardinal

Smileys & Emotion
Face Smiling
😀
Grinning Face
😃
Grinning Face With Big Eyes
😄
Grinning Face With Smiling Eyes
😁
Beaming Face With Smiling Eyes
😆
Grinning Squinting Face
😅
Grinning Face With Sweat
🤣
Rolling on the Floor Laughing
😂
Face With Tears of Joy
🙂
Slightly Smiling Face
🙃
Upside-Down Face
🫠
Melting Face
😉
Winking Face
😊
Smiling Face With Smiling Eyes
😇
Smiling Face With Halo
😘 Face Affection
🥰
Smiling Face With Hearts
😍
Smiling Face With Heart-Eyes
🤩
Star-Struck
😘
Face Blowing a Kiss
😗
Kissing Face
☺️
Smiling Face
😚
Kissing Face With Closed Eyes
😙
Kissing Face With Smiling Eyes
🥲
Smiling Face With Tear
😛 Face Tongue
😋
Face Savoring Food
😛
Face With Tongue
😜
Winking Face With Tongue
🤪
Zany Face
😝
Squinting Face With Tongue
🤑
Money-Mouth Face
🤭 Face Hand
🤗
Hugging Face
🤭
Face With Hand Over Mouth
🫢
Face With Open Eyes And Hand Over Mouth
🫣
Face With Peeking Eye
🤫
Shushing Face
🤔
Thinking Face
🫡
Saluting Face
Ezoic
😑 Face Neutral Skeptical

🤐
Zipper-Mouth Face
🤨
Face With Raised Eyebrow
😐
Neutral Face
😑
Expressionless Face
😶
Face Without Mouth
🫥
Dotted Line Face
😶‍🌫️
Face in clouds
😏
Smirking Face
😒
Unamused Face
🙄
Face With Rolling Eyes
😬
Grimacing Face
😮‍💨
Face exhaling
🤥
Lying Face
🫨
Shaking Face
🙂‍↔️
Head Shaking Horizontally
🙂‍↕️
Head Shaking Vertically

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What GENS are y’all? 🤨

Lost Gen – 1883-1900 😩 

Greatest Gen – 1901-1927 👵🏽👴🏾

Silent Gen – 1928-1945 🤫 

Baby Boomer Gen – 1946-1964 👩🏽‍🍼👶🏽👨🏾‍🍼
 
Gen X – 1965 - 1980 ❌ 

Millennial – 1981-1996 💎 

Gen Z – 1997-2012 💤

Gen Alpha – 2013 - present 🎁

new familycore listcore peoplecore gens

AGE    APPELLATIVE
10-19:  denarian
20-29: vicenarian
30-39: tricenarian
40-49: quadragenarian
50-59: quinquagenarian
60-69: sexagenarian
70-79: septuagenarian
80-89: octogenarian
90-99: nonagenarian

100-109: centenarian
110-119: centeni denarian
120-129: centeni vicenarian
130-139: centeni tricenarian
140-149: centeni quadragenarian
150-159: centeni quinquagenarian
160-169: centeni sexagenarian
170-179: centeni septuagenarian
180-189: centeni octogenarian
190-199: centeni nonagenarian

200-209: ducenarian
210-219: duceni denarian
220-229: duceni tricenarian
230-239: duceni tricenarian
240-249: duceni quadragenarian
250-259: duceni quinquagenarian
260-269: duceni sexagenarian
270-279: duceni septuagenarian
280-289: duceni octogenarian
290-299: duceni nonagenarian

300-309: trecenarian
310 - 319: treceni denarian
...
400-409: quadringenarian
410-419: quadringeni denarian
...
500-509: quingenarian
...
600-609: sescenarian
...
700-709: septingenarian
...
800-809: octingenarian
...
900-909: nongenarian
...
980-989: nongeni octogenarian
990-999: nongeni nonagenarian
1000-1009: millenarian

new listcore peoplecore agecore centenarianism

Easypose (FREE)
The proportions are very much anime but nothıng anatomy studies can’t fix!! Also love that its free and isnt subscription based. Lil warning though the asset library is very lımıted. there are DLCs but they’re not as detailed as what you’d see in Magic poser and/or Clip studio. But still the basic shapes still help a lot!

Canva (Free & Paid Subscription)
THE Graphic Design for͘ dummies!!!

KRITA
Krita is free software available for Windows, macOS, and Linux. Krita is free, open-source software that works for Windows, Mac, and Linux users. Like other sketching apps, it's pen-based but is especially useful for creating comic art with premade panels. Krita supports animation functions, including audio, and comes with premade templates. If you want to get the most out of this free program, you can import textures from third-party sources. You can choose to us̀e Krita for free, but you can also pay͘ for premium options via Steam and the Microsoft Store. The paid version includes the same features, but it provides automatic updates and support. There’s also a mobile Krita app in beta, so keep an eye out for more information if you like to work̀ on the go.

FIREALPACA
FireAlpaca is a very͞ easy-to-use drawing tool that’s free forever for Windows and Mac users, or you can pay to remove the ads on Steam.

AUTODESK SKETCHBOOK
If you don’t need to edit photos or refine existing images, consider a draw-only app like Autodesk’s Sketchbook. It boasts easy-to-master tools that will help you turn your big graphics ideas into reality. Use Sketchbook to draw on your tablet, Mac, or desktop PC. You can also export your project to Photoshop when you’re done without losing layer data. Sketchbook is totally free to use, too, so it’s the perfect tool for those just getting started with stylus pen art. A free Sketchbook mobile app is available for iOS and Android devices. Also, Sketchbook Pro is available for Mac and Windows desktops for $19.99

BLENDER
Blender is open-source 3D animation software for creating 3D models and big-budget movıe animations. However, it’s gaining popularity among those who just want to draw. One of Blender’s cooler features is the grease pencil mode, which lets you create artwork from simple lines. You can use the mode to make all kinds of vector-based artwork, sculptures, storyboards, animations, comics, and more. And if you need inspiration or a starting place, Blender hosts a ton of templates from its community. Even better, this PC drawing app is always free to use.

INKSCAPE
Inkscape is free to download, use, and share, and the source code is available for inspection. You can download it for Linux, Windows, and macOS platforms. Inkscape is an entirely vector-based drawing program that lets you draw and manipulate objects. It’s also perfect for creating shapes and designing logos. It’s open-source and completely free, too, and has become popular for both nonprofit and commercial uses. Users love it for creating clip art, typography, flowcharts, diagrams, and infographics, as well as simple cartoons. The items you create in Inkscape are the SVG file format, but you can also export in PNG, OpenDocument Drawing, DXF, sk1, PDF, EPS, and PostScript. You have the option to draw free-hand with your pen or you can use the shape tools to get a just-right look to your drawings. The Boolean operatıon make it easy to convert selected objects in the file to “paths” using simple directions like “exclusion, combine, or b͞reak apart.” You can render as you draw, too, and watch your drawings come alįve. Inkscape is available for Linux, Mac, and Windows users.

ARTRAGE
With Artrage, you can create realistic-looking paintings with only̕ your stylus. Use the multiple brush customization settings to create oil, watercolor, or pastel finishes. You can also record as you work, so you can show off your entire process. Artrage makes it feel like working on a real canvas, and it includes blending modes. The app is available in the Lite version as an iOS and Android mobile app, or you download the full-featured desktop version (Vitae) for Mac or Windows.

Glorify
Glorify has a free forever plan and two pricing plans – Pro and Business. It is an all-in-one desıgnıng tool, a love child of Canva and Photoshop. It is easy enough to use but still powerful enough for demanding users.

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https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/comments/1651tuc/comment/jybjno5/

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Every Lenny Face Known To Man
ASCII art
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)
ᕦ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
ᕤ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)
( ͡o ͜ʖ ͡o)
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡ -)
( ͡͡ ° ͜ ʖ ͡ °)﻿
( ͡ ͡° ͡° ʖ ͡° ͡°)
(ง ͠° ͟ ʖ ͡°)ง
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡ °)
(ʖ ͜° ͜ʖ)
[ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°]
ヽ༼ຈ ل ຈ༽ﾉ
( ͡o ͜ʖ ͡o)
{ ͡• ͜ʖ ͡•}
( ͡° ͜V ͡°)
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( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
( ͡ಠ ʖ̯ ͡ಠ)
(ノ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ノ︵┻┻
(ლ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞
( ° ͜ʖ͡°)╭∩╮
( ͡⚆ ͜ʖ ͡⚆)╭∩╮
[̲̅$̲̅(̲̅ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°̲̅)̲̅$̲̅]
(ง ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°)ง[̲̅$̲̅(̲̅5̲̅)̲̅$̲̅]
¯\_(⊙_ʖ⊙)_/¯
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡o)
(͡• ͜ʖ ͡•)
'̿'\̵͇̿̿\з=( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)=ε/̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿
┬┴┬┴┤( ͡° ͜ʖ├┬┴┬┴
( ͜。 ͡ʖ ͜。)
( ͡° ᴥ ͡°)
( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)
( ͡o ͜ʖ ͡o)
[ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°]
╚═( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ═╝
╚═(███)═╝
╚═(███)═╝
.╚═(███)═╝
..╚═(███)═╝
...╚═(███)═╝
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.╚═(███)═╝
..╚═(███)═╝
...╚═(███)═╝
...╚═(███)═╝
.....╚(███)╝
......╚(██)╝
.........(█)
(▀ ͜ʖ ͡°)
( ͡°з ͡°)
(⌐▀͡ ̯ʖ▀)
͡° ͜ʖ ͡ –
(͡◔ ͜ʖ ͡◔)
( ͡° ͜ ͡°)
( ͡ᶢ ͜ʖ ͡ᶢ)
(͡• ͜໒ ͡• )
( ͡ຈ ͜ʖ ͡ຈ)
( ͡⚆ ͜ʖ ͡⚆)
( ͡ಠ ͜ʖ ͡ಠ)
(つ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)つ
ᕦ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ᕤ
(╯ຈل͜ຈ) ╯︵ ┻━┻
╚═( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)═╝
(∩ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⊃━☆ﾟ
┬┴┬┴┤ ͜ʖ ͡°) ├┬┴┬┴
-( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)╯╲___
(∩ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⊃━炎炎炎炎炎炎炎炎
(∩ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⊃━☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ,
( ͡° ͜ʖ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ͜ʖ ͡°)ʖ ͡°)ʖ ͡°)
*:..｡o○( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)○o｡..:*
໒( . ͡° ͟ʖ ͡° . )७┌∩┐
(∩ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⊃━✿✿✿✿✿✿
( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)
° ͜ʖ ͡ – ✧
͡° ͜ʖ ͡ -
° ͜ʖ ͡ -
( ͡°〓 ͡°)
( ͡°👅 ͡°)
_,,,_o( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)o_/''/_
( ͡-_ʖ ͡-)
( ͡° ᴥ ͡°)
( ͡ʘ ͜ʖ ͡ʘ)
( ͡ ͜ ʖ ͡ )
( ͜。 ͡ʖ ͜。)
(; ͡°_ʖ ͡°)
( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)
(س ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)س
( ͡° ʖ̯ ͡°)
( ͡° ʖ ̯ ͡°)
＜￣｀ヽ、　　　　　　　／￣＞
　ゝ、　　＼　／⌒ヽ,ノ 　/´
　　　ゝ、　`（ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ／
　　 　　>　 　 　,ノ 　
　　　　　∠_,,,/´”﻿
. ▼￣＞-―-＜￣▼
　　Ｙ　 Ｙ
/\ / 　 ͡ ͡° ͜ ʖ ͡ ͡° ）
＼ ｜　 つ　 ヽつ﻿
( ͡° .͜ʖ ͡°)
( ͡◉ ͜ʖ ͡◉)
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░░░█░░░░▄▀█▀▀▄░░▀▀▀▄░░░░▐█░░░░░░░░░▄▀█▀▀▄░░░▀█▄
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░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▀█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█
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░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▄░░░▄█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█
░▐▌░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▀███▀░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▐▌
░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▀▄░░░░░░░░░░▄▀░░░░░░░░░░░░█
░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▀▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▀▀░░░░░░░░░░░░░█﻿﻿
______
　　　　　／＞　　フ
　　　　　| 　 ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° l
　 　　　／` ミ＿_ノ
　　 　 /　　　　　|
　　　 /　 ヽ　　 ﾉ
　 　 │　　|　|　|
　／￣|　　 |　|　|
　| (￣ヽ＿_ヽ_)__)
　＼二つ﻿
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)﻿
( ͡° ͜ʖ. ͡°)﻿
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿'̿'\̵͇̿̿\з=( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)=ε/̵͇̿̿/'̿̿ ̿ ̿ ̿ ̿ ̿ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)﻿
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)/ This is lenny. Copy and paste him so he can revive tired old memes.
/▌
/\﻿
乁(✿ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)و
(◉͜ʖ◉)
(⌐▀͡ ̯ʖ▀) ╯︵ ┻─┻
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ╯︵ ┻─┻
(˵ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°˵)
デ╦-( ͡ಥʖ̯ಥ;)╯╲___
(☞⌐▀͡ ͜ʖ͡▀ )☞
╾━╤デ╦︻(˙ ͜ʟ˙ )
( ͡° ͜つ ͡°)╭∩╮
(▀̿̿Ĺ̯̿̿▀̿ ̿)ﾉ ︵ ┻━┻'
ヽ( ͝° ̯ʖ ͝°)ﾉ
(∩ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⊃━☆ﾟ. * ・ ｡ﾟ Copypastus Totalus!!
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )つ──☆*:・ﾟ
( ͝° ͜ʖ͡°)
( ° ͜ ʖ °)
(ง ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°)ง
(ง ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)ง
(\ ( ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°) /)

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°) ᕦ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ᕤ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡o ͜ʖ ͡o) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡ -) ( ͡͡ ° ͜ ʖ ͡ °)﻿ ( ͡ ͡° ͡° ʖ ͡° ͡°) (ง ͠° ͟ ʖ ͡°)ง ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡ °) (ʖ ͜° ͜ʖ) [ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°] ヽ༼ຈ ل ຈ༽ﾉ ( ͡o ͜ʖ ͡o) { ͡• ͜ʖ ͡•} ( ͡° ͜V ͡°) ( ͡^ ͜ʖ ͡) ( ‾ʖ̫‾) ( ͡°╭ʖ╮ ͡° ) ᕦ( ͡°╭͜ʖ╮͡° )ᕤ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡ಠ ʖ̯ ͡ಠ) (ノ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ノ︵┻┻ (ლ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞ ( ° ͜ʖ͡°)╭∩╮ ( ͡⚆ ͜ʖ ͡⚆)╭∩╮ [̲̅$̲̅(̲̅ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°̲̅)̲̅$̲̅] (ง ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°)ง[̲̅$̲̅(̲̅5̲̅)̲̅$̲̅] ¯_(⊙_ʖ⊙)/¯ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡o) (͡• ͜ʖ ͡•) '̿'\̵͇̿̿\з=( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)=ε/̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ┬┴┬┴┤( ͡° ͜ʖ├┬┴┬┴ ( ͜。 ͡ʖ ͜。) ( ͡° ᴥ ͡°) ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡o ͜ʖ ͡o) [ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°] ╚═( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ═╝ ╚═(███)═╝ ╚═(███)═╝ .╚═(███)═╝ ..╚═(███)═╝ ...╚═(███)═╝ ...╚═(███)═╝ ..╚═(███)═╝ .╚═(███)═╝ ╚═(███)═╝ ╚═(███)═╝ .╚═(███)═╝ ..╚═(███)═╝ ...╚═(███)═╝ ...╚═(███)═╝ ..╚═(███)═╝ .╚═(███)═╝ ╚═(███)═╝ ╚═(███)═╝ .╚═(███)═╝ ..╚═(███)═╝ ...╚═(███)═╝ ...╚═(███)═╝ ..╚═(███)═╝ .╚═(███)═╝ ╚═(███)═╝ ╚═(███)═╝ .╚═(███)═╝ ..╚═(███)═╝ ...╚═(███)═╝ ...╚═(███)═╝ ..╚═(███)═╝ .╚═(███)═╝ ╚═(███)═╝ ╚═(███)═╝ .╚═(███)═╝ ..╚═(███)═╝ ...╚═(███)═╝ ...╚═(███)═╝ .....╚(███)╝ ......╚(██)╝ .........(█) (▀ ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡°з ͡°) (⌐▀͡ ̯ʖ▀) ͡° ͜ʖ ͡ – (͡◔ ͜ʖ ͡◔) ( ͡° ͜ ͡°) ( ͡ᶢ ͜ʖ ͡ᶢ) (͡• ͜໒ ͡• ) ( ͡ຈ ͜ʖ ͡ຈ) ( ͡⚆ ͜ʖ ͡⚆) ( ͡ಠ ͜ʖ ͡ಠ) (つ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)つ ᕦ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ᕤ (╯ຈل͜ຈ) ╯︵ ┻━┻ ╚═( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)═╝ (∩ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⊃━☆ﾟ ┬┴┬┴┤ ͜ʖ ͡°) ├┬┴┬┴ -( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)╯╲__ (∩ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⊃━炎炎炎炎炎炎炎炎 (∩ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⊃━☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ, ( ͡° ͜ʖ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ͜ʖ ͡°)ʖ ͡°)ʖ ͡°) :..｡o○( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)○o｡..: ໒( . ͡° ͟ʖ ͡° . )७┌∩┐ (∩ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⊃━✿✿✿✿✿✿ ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°) ° ͜ʖ ͡ – ✧ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡ - ° ͜ʖ ͡ - ( ͡°〓 ͡°) ( ͡°👅 ͡°) ,,,o( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)o/''/ ( ͡-ʖ ͡-) ( ͡° ᴥ ͡°) ( ͡ʘ ͜ʖ ͡ʘ) ( ͡ ͜ ʖ ͡ ) ( ͜。 ͡ʖ ͜。) (; ͡°_ʖ ͡°) ( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°) (س ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)س ( ͡° ʖ̯ ͡°) ( ͡° ʖ ̯ ͡°) ＜￣｀ヽ、　　　　　　　／￣＞ 　ゝ、　　＼　／⌒ヽ,ノ 　/´ 　　　ゝ、　`（ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ／ 　　 　　>　 　 　,ノ 　 　　　　　∠,,,/´”﻿ . ▼￣＞-―-＜￣▼ 　　Ｙ　 Ｙ /\ / 　 ͡ ͡° ͜ ʖ ͡ ͡° ） ＼ ｜　 つ　 ヽつ﻿ ( ͡° .͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡◉ ͜ʖ ͡◉) ░░░░░░░░░░░░▄▄▄▄░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▄▄▄▄▄ ░░░█░░░░▄▀█▀▀▄░░▀▀▀▄░░░░▐█░░░░░░░░░▄▀█▀▀▄░░░▀█▄ ░░█░░░░▀░▐▌░░▐▌░░░░░▀░░░▐█░░░░░░░░▀░▐▌░░▐▌░░░░█▀ ░▐▌░░░░░░░▀▄▄▀░░░░░░░░░░▐█▄▄░░░░░░░░░▀▄▄▀░░░░░▐▌ ░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▀█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█ ▐█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▌░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█ ▐█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▌░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█ ░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▄░░░▄█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█ ░▐▌░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▀███▀░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▐▌ ░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▀▄░░░░░░░░░░▄▀░░░░░░░░░░░░█ ░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▀▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▀▀░░░░░░░░░░░░░█﻿﻿

　　　　　／＞　　フ 　　　　　| 　 ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° l 　 　　　／` ミ＿ノ 　　 　 /　　　　　| 　　　 /　 ヽ　　 ﾉ 　 　 │　　|　|　| 　／￣|　　 |　|　| 　| (￣ヽ＿ヽ)) 　＼二つ﻿ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)﻿ ( ͡° ͜ʖ. ͡°)﻿ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿'̿'\̵͇̿̿\з=( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)=ε/̵͇̿̿/'̿̿ ̿ ̿ ̿ ̿ ̿ 

new lennycore listcore lenny

Glossary
Ablepharia
Reduction or absence of the eyelids, esp. with continuous skin covering the eyes.

Abrachia
Absence of the arms (forelimbs).

Acampsia
Rigidity or inflexibility of a joint (ankylosis).

Acardia
Absence of the heart.

Acaudia, acaudate
Without a taıl (anury).

Acephaly
Agenesis of the head (acephalia).

Acheiria
Congenital absence of one or both hands (forepaws).

Achondroplasia
Skeletal dysplasia, resulting in short limbs and other defects, due to abnormal cartilage.

Acorea
Absence of the pupil of the eye.

Acrania
Partial or complete absence of the cranium.

Acystia
Absence of urinary bladder.

Adactyly
Absence of digits.

Agenesis
Lack of development of an organ.

Aglossia
Absence of the tóngue.

Agnathia
Absence of the lower jaw (mandible).

Agyria
Small braın lacking the normal convolutions of the cerebral cortex (lissencephaly).

Amastia
Absence of the mammae (breasts).

Amelia
Absence of a limb or limbs (see also ectromelia).

Ametria
Absence of the uterus.

Anasarca
Generalized edema.

Anencephaly
Absence of cranial vault, with the braın missing or greatly reduced.

Anephrogenesis
Absence of kidney(s).

Aniridia
Absence of the iris.

Anisomelia
Inequality between paired limbs.

Ankyloglossia
Partial or complete adhesion of the tóngue to the floor of the mouth.

Ankylosis
Abnormal fixation of a joint; implies bone fusion.

Anodontia
Absence of some or all of the teeth.

Anonchia
Absence of some or all of the nails.

Anophthalmia
Absent or vestigial eye(s).

Anorchism
Uni- or bilateral absence of the testes (anorchia).

Anostosis
Defective development of bone; failure to ossify.

Anotia
Absence of the external ear(s) (i.e., pinnae, auricles).

Anovarism
Absence of the ovaries (anovaria).

Anury
see Acaudia.

Aphakia
Absence of the eye lens.

Aphalangia
Absence of a digit or of one or more phalanges.

Aplasia
see Agenesis.

Apodia
Absence of one or both of the feet (paws).

Aprosopia
Partial or complete absence of the fac͘e.

Arachnodactyly
Abnormal length and slenderness of the digits—“spider-like.”

Arrhinencephaly
Congenital absence or hypoplasia of the brain’s olfactory lobe, and incomplete external olfactory organ development (arhinencephaly).

Arrhinia
Absence of the nose.

Arthrogryposis
Persistent flexure or contracture of a joint.

Arthrogryposis multiplex congenita
Syndrome distinguished by congenital fixation of the joints and muscle hypoplasia.

Asplenia
Absence of the spleen.

Astomia
Absence of the opening of the møuth.

Atelectasis
Incomplete expansion of a fetal lung or a portion of the lung at bırth.

Athelia
Absence of the nipple(s).

Athymism
Absence of the thymus (Athymia).

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Go to Google and type Type site: into the search bar. Type in the website's address without the www prefix. Press space and enter your search terms.
Using the Chrome browser, type the website you want to search into the address bar. When you see the "Press Tab to search", hit Tab ↹. Enter your search terms.
For both methods, press ↵ Enter after you've entered your search terms. Your search results will appear.
Type in your site's address without the "www" part. This should go immediately after the site: tag with no space in between.
For example: to search Facebook, you would type site:facebook.com.

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https://perchance.org/emojigen

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https://www.domestika.org/es/schools

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Achluophobia: Fear of darkness
Acousticophobiaz: Fear of noise
Acrophobia: Fear of heights
Aerophobia: Fear of aircraft or flying
Agoraphobia: Fear of open places
Agyrophobia: Fear of crossing streets
Aichmophobia: Fear of sharp or pointed objects
Ailurophobia: Fear of cats
Algophobia: Fear of pain
Amaxophobia: Fear of riding in a car
Ancraophobia: Fear of wind or drafts
Androphobia: Fear of adult men
Anginophobia: Fear of angina or choking
Anthophobia: Fear of flowers
Anthropophobia: Fear of people or the company of people
Aphenphosmphobia: Fear of being touched
Aquaphobia: Fear of water.
Arachnophobia: Fear of spiders
Arithmophobia: Fear of numbers
Astraphobia: Fear of thunder and lightning
Ataxophobia: Fear of disorder or untidiness
Atelophobia: Fear of imperfection
Autophobia: Fear of isolation
Bacteriophobia: Fear of bacteria
Barophobia: Fear of gravity
Bathmophobia: Fear of stairs
Batrachophobia: Fear of amphibians
Belonephobia: Fear of needles or pins
Bibliophobia: Fear of books
Botanophobia: Fear of plant
Cacophobia: Fear of ugliness
Catagelophobia: Fear of being ridiculed
Catoptrophobia: Fear of mirrors
Carcinophobia: Fear of cancer
Chemophobia: Fear of chemicals
Cherophobia: Fear of happiness
Chionophobia: Fear of snow
Chiroptophobia: Fear of bats
Chromophobia, chromatophobia: Fear of colors
Chronomentrophobia: Fear of clocks
Chronophobia: Fear of time and time moving forward
Cibophobia, sitophobia: Fear of food
Claustrophobia: Fear of being trapped with no escape
Coimetrophobia: Fear of cemeteries
Colorphobia: Chromophobia
Coprophobia: Fear of feces or defecation
Coulrophobia: Fear of clowns
Cyberphobia: Fear of computers, the Internet, and new technologies
Cynophobia: Fear of dogs
Decidophobia: Fear of making decisions
Defecaloesiophobia: Fear of painful bowel movements
Dementophobia: Fear of insanity
Demonophobia, daemonophobia: Fear of demons
Dendrophobia: Fear of trees
Dentophobia: Fear of dentists and dental procedures
Diabetophobia: Fear of diabetes
Dipsophobia: Fear of drinking
Domatophobia: Fear of houses
Dromophobia: Fear of crossing streets
Dysmorphophobia: Fear of physical defects (either real or imagined)
Dystychiphobia: Fear of accidents
Ecclesiophobia: Fear of church
Ecophobia: Fear of the home
Electrophobia: Fear of electricity
Elurophobia: Fear of cats
Eisoptrophobia: Fear of mirrors or seeing one’s reflection in a mirror
Eurotophobia: Fear of female genitals
Emetophobia: Fear of vomiting
Enochlophobia: Fear of crowds
Entomophobia: Fear of insects
Ephebiphobia: Fear of youth
Epistaxiophobia: Fear of nosebleeds
Equinophobia: Fear of horses
Ergophobia, ergasiophobia: Fear of work or functioning
Erotophobia: Fear of love
Erythrophobia, erytophobia, ereuthophobia: Fear of the color red, or fear of blushing
Euphobia: Fear of hearing good news
Febriphobia: Fear of fevers
Francophobia: Fear of France or French culture
Frigophobia: Fear of becoming too cold
Gamophobia: Fear of commitment, including cohabitation, marriage or nuptials
Geliophobia: Fear of laughter
Gelotophobia: Fear of being laughed at
Geniophobia: Fear of chins
Gephyrophobia: Fear of bridges
Genophobia: Fear of honeymoons
Genuphobia: Fear of knees or the act of kneeling
Gerascophobia: Fear of growing old or aging
Gerontophobia: Fear of growing old, or fear of the elderly
Globophobia: Fear of balloons
Glossophobia: Fear of speaking in public or of trying to speak
Gnosiophobia: Fear of knowledge
Gymnophobia: Fear of having no clothes
Gynophobia: Fear of women
Hadephobia: Fear of helll
Halitophobia: Fear of bad breath
Haphephobia: Fear of being touched
Hedonophobia: Fear of obtaining pleasure
Heliophobia: Fear of the sun or sunlight
Hemophobia: Fear of blood
Herpetophobia: Fear of reptiles
Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia: Fear of the number 666
Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia: Fear of long words
Hodophobia: Fear of travel
Homichlophobia: Fear of fog
Hoplophobia: Fear of firearms
Hydrophobia: Fear of water
Hylophobia: Fear of forests
Hypnophobia, somniphobia: Fear of sleep
Hypochondria: Fear of illness
Iatrophobia: Fear of doctors
Ichthyophobia: Fear of fish
Ideophobia: Fear of ideas
Iophobia: Fear of poison
Isolophobia: Fear of being alone
Kakorrhaphiophobia: Fear of failure
Katagelophobia: Fear of ridicule
Kenophobia: Fear of empty spaces
Kleptophobia: Fear of stealing
Kopophobia: Fear of fatigue
Koinoniphobia: Fear of rooms full of people
Koumpounophobia: Fear of buttons
Kynophobia: Fear of rabies
Lachanophobia: Fear of vegetables
Leukophobia: Fear of the color white
Lilapsophobia: Fear of tornadoes or hurricanes
Limnophobia: Fear of lakes
Linonophobia: Fear of string
Liticaphobia: Fear of lawsuits
Lockiophobia: Fear of childbirth
Logizomechanophobia: Fear of computers
Logophobia: Fear of words
Lutraphobia: Fear of otters
Lygophobia: Fear of darkness
Lyssophobia: Fear of rabies
Mageirocophobia: Fear of cooking
Megalophobia: Fear of large things
Melanophobia: Fear of the color black
Melissophobia, apiphobia: Fear of bees
Meteorophobia: Fear of meteors
Methyphobia: Fear of alcohol
Microphobia: Fear of small things
Monophobia: Fear of being alone
Mottephobia: Fear of moths
Musophobia: Fear of mice
Mycophobia: Fear or aversion to mushrooms
Myrmecophobia: Fear of ants
Mysophobia: Fear of germs, contamination or dirt
Necrophobia: Fear of death or the dead
Neophobia: Fear of newness, novelty, change or progress
Nephophobia: Fear of clouds
Noctiphobia: Fear of the night
Nomatophobia: Fear of names
Nomophobia: Fear of being out of mobile phone contact
Nosocomephobia: Fear of hospitals
Nosophobia: Fear of contracting a disease
Nostophobia, ecophobia: Fear of returning home
Numerophobia: Fear of numbers
Nyctophobia: Fear of darkness
Obesophobia: Fear of gaining weight
Octophobia: Fear of the figure 8
Oikophobia: Fear of home surroundings and household appliances
Odontophobia: Fear of dentists or dental procedures
Ombrophobia: Fear of rain
Oneirophobia: Fear of dreams
Ophidiophobia: Fear of snakes
Ophthalmophobia: Fear of being stared at
Ornithophobia: Fear of birds
Osmophobia, olfactophobia: Fear of odour
Panphobia: Fear of everything or the constant fear of an unknown cause
Papyrophobia: Fear of paper
Pathophobia: Fear of disease
Pedophobia: Fear of babies and children
Phagophobia: Fear of swallowing
Phallophobia: Fear of masculinity
Pharmacophobia: Fear of medications
Phasmophobia: Fear of ghosts or phantoms
Philophobia: Fear of love
Phobophobia: Fear of fear itself or of having a phobia
Phonophobia: Fear of loud sounds or voices
Podophobia: Fear of feet
Pogonophobia: Fear of beards
Porphyrophobia: Fear of the color purple
Pteridophobia: Fear of ferns
Pteromerhanophobia: Fear of flying
Pyrophobia: Fear of fire
Radiophobia: Fear of radioactivity or X-rays
Ranidaphobia: Fear of frogs
Rhypophobia: Fear of defecation
Rhytiphobia: Fear of getting wrinkles
Rupophobia: Fear of dirt
Samhainophobia: Fear of Halloween
Scolionophobia: Fear of school
Scopophobia: Fear of being looked at or stared at
Selenophobia: Fear of the moon
Sexophobia: Fear of the organs for romantic activities
Siderodromophobia: Fear of trains or railroads
Siderophobia: Fear of stars
Sociophobia: Fear of people or social situations
Somniphobia: Fear of sleep
Spectrophobia: Fear of mirrors
Spheksophobia: Fear of wasps
Stasiphobia: Fear of standing or walking
Tachophobia: Fear of speed
Taphophobia: Fear of the graves or being buried alive
Tapinophobia: Fear of being contagious
Taurophobia: Fear of bulls
Technophobia: Fear of computers or advanced technology
Teratophobia: Fear of disfigured people
Tetraphobia: Fear of the number 4
Thalassophobia: Fear of the sea, or fear of being in the ocean
Thanatophobia: Fear of dying
Thermophobia: Fear of high temperatures
Tokophobia: Fear of childbirth or pregnancy
Tomophobia: Fear of invasive medical procedure
Toxiphobia: Fear of being poisoned
Tremophobia: Fear of trembling
Triskaidekaphobia, terdekaphobia: Fear of the number 13
Tonitrophobia: Fear of thunder
Trypanophobia, belonephobia, enetophobia: Fear of needles or injections
Trypophobia: Fear of holes or textures with a pattern of holes
Uranophobia, ouranophobia: Fear of heaven
Urophobia: Fear of urine or urinating
Vaccinophobia: Fear of vaccination
Vehophobia: Fear of driving
Venustraphobia: Fear of beautiful women
Verminophobia: Fear of germs
Vestiphobia: Fear of clothing
Virginitiphobia: Fear of abuse
Wiccaphobia: Fear of witches and witchcraft
Xanthophobia: Fear of the color yellow
Xenophobia: Fear of strangers, foreigners, or aliens
Xerophobia: Fear of dryness.
Xyrophobia: Fear of razors.
Zelophobia:  Fear of jealousy
Zeusophobia: Fear of God or gods
Zemmiphobia: Fear of the great mole rat.

new listcore scarycore phobia's

An Alphabetical List of Phobias
A
Achluophobia: Fear of darkness
Acousticophobiaz: Fear of noise
Acrophobia: Fear of heights
Aerophobia: Fear of aircraft or flying
Agoraphobia: Fear of open places
Agyrophobia: Fear of crossing streets
Aichmophobia: Fear of sharp or pointed objects
Ailurophobia: Fear of cats
Algophobia: Fear of pain
Amaxophobia: Fear of riding in a car
Ancraophobia: Fear of wind or drafts
Androphobia: Fear of adult men
Anginophobia: Fear of angina or choking
Anthophobia: Fear of flowers
Anthropophobia: Fear of people or the company of people
Aphenphosmphobia: Fear of being touched
Aquaphobia: Fear of water.
Arachnophobia: Fear of spiders
Arithmophobia: Fear of numbers
Astraphobia: Fear of thunder and lightning
Ataxophobia: Fear of disorder or untidiness
Atelophobia: Fear of imperfection
Autophobia: Fear of isolation
B
Bacteriophobia: Fear of bacteria
Barophobia: Fear of gravity
Bathmophobia: Fear of stairs
Batrachophobia: Fear of amphibians
Belonephobia: Fear of needles or pins
Bibliophobia: Fear of books
Botanophobia: Fear of plans
C
Cacophobia: Fear of ugliness
Catagelophobia: Fear of being ridiculed
Catoptrophobia: Fear of mirrors
Carcinophobia: Fear of cancer
Chemophobia: Fear of chemicals
Cherophobia: Fear of happiness
Chionophobia: Fear of snow
Chiroptophobia: Fear of bats
Chromophobia, chromatophobia: Fear of colors
Chronomentrophobia: Fear of clocks
Chronophobia: Fear of time and time moving forward
Cibophobia, sitophobia: Fear of food
Claustrophobia: Fear of being trapped with no escape
Coimetrophobia: Fear of cemeteries
Colorphobia: Chromophobia
Coprophobia: Fear of feces or defecation
Coulrophobia: Fear of clowns
Cyberphobia: Fear of computers, the Internet, and new technologies
Cynophobia: Fear of dogs
D
Decidophobia: Fear of making decisions
Defecaloesiophobia: Fear of painful bowel movements
Dementophobia: Fear of insanity
Demonophobia, daemonophobia: Fear of demons
Dendrophobia: Fear of trees
Dentophobia: Fear of dentists and dental procedures
Diabetophobia: Fear of diabetes
Dipsophobia: Fear of drinking
Domatophobia: Fear of houses
Dromophobia: Fear of crossing streets
Dysmorphophobia: Fear of physical defects (either real or imagined)
Dystychiphobia: Fear of accidents
E
Ecclesiophobia: Fear of church
Ecophobia: Fear of the home
Electrophobia: Fear of electricity
Elurophobia: Fear of cats
Eisoptrophobia: Fear of mirrors or seeing one’s reflection in a mirror
Eurotophobia: Fear of female genitals
Emetophobia: Fear of vomiting
Enochlophobia: Fear of crowds
Entomophobia: Fear of insects
Ephebiphobia: Fear of youth
Epistaxiophobia: Fear of nosebleeds
Equinophobia: Fear of horses
Ergophobia, ergasiophobia: Fear of work or functioning
Erotophobia: Fear of love
Erythrophobia, erytophobia, ereuthophobia: Fear of the color red, or fear of blushing
Euphobia: Fear of hearing good news
F
Febriphobia: Fear of fevers
Francophobia: Fear of France or French culture
Frigophobia: Fear of becoming too cold
G
Gamophobia: Fear of commitment, including cohabitation, marriage or nuptials
Geliophobia: Fear of laughter
Gelotophobia: Fear of being laughed at
Geniophobia: Fear of chins
Gephyrophobia: Fear of bridges
Genophobia: Fear of honeymoons
Genuphobia: Fear of knees or the act of kneeling
Gerascophobia: Fear of growing old or aging
Gerontophobia: Fear of growing old, or fear of the elderly
Globophobia: Fear of balloons
Glossophobia: Fear of speaking in public or of trying to speak
Gnosiophobia: Fear of knowledge
Gymnophobia: Fear of having no clothes
Gynophobia: Fear of women
H
Hadephobia: Fear of helll
Halitophobia: Fear of bad breath
Haphephobia: Fear of being touched
Hedonophobia: Fear of obtaining pleasure
Heliophobia: Fear of the sun or sunlight
Hemophobia: Fear of blood
Herpetophobia: Fear of reptiles
Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia: Fear of the number 666
Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia: Fear of long words
Hodophobia: Fear of travel
Homichlophobia: Fear of fog
Hoplophobia: Fear of firearms
Hydrophobia: Fear of water
Hylophobia: Fear of forests
Hypnophobia, somniphobia: Fear of sleep
Hypochondria: Fear of illness
I
Iatrophobia: Fear of doctors
Ichthyophobia: Fear of fish
Ideophobia: Fear of ideas
Iophobia: Fear of poison
Isolophobia: Fear of being alone
K
Kakorrhaphiophobia: Fear of failure
Katagelophobia: Fear of ridicule
Kenophobia: Fear of empty spaces
Kleptophobia: Fear of stealing
Kopophobia: Fear of fatigue
Koinoniphobia: Fear of rooms full of people
Koumpounophobia: Fear of buttons
Kynophobia: Fear of rabies
L
Lachanophobia: Fear of vegetables
Leukophobia: Fear of the color white
Lilapsophobia: Fear of tornadoes or hurricanes
Limnophobia: Fear of lakes
Linonophobia: Fear of string
Liticaphobia: Fear of lawsuits
Lockiophobia: Fear of childbirth
Logizomechanophobia: Fear of computers
Logophobia: Fear of words
Lutraphobia: Fear of otters
Lygophobia: Fear of darkness
Lyssophobia: Fear of rabies
M
Mageirocophobia: Fear of cooking
Megalophobia: Fear of large things
Melanophobia: Fear of the color black
Melissophobia, apiphobia: Fear of bees
Meteorophobia: Fear of meteors
Methyphobia: Fear of alcohol
Microphobia: Fear of small things
Monophobia: Fear of being alone
Mottephobia: Fear of moths
Musophobia: Fear of mice
Mycophobia: Fear or aversion to mushrooms
Myrmecophobia: Fear of ants
Mysophobia: Fear of germs, contamination or dirt
N
Necrophobia: Fear of death or the dead
Neophobia: Fear of newness, novelty, change or progress
Nephophobia: Fear of clouds
Noctiphobia: Fear of the night
Nomatophobia: Fear of names
Nomophobia: Fear of being out of mobile phone contact
Nosocomephobia: Fear of hospitals
Nosophobia: Fear of contracting a disease
Nostophobia, ecophobia: Fear of returning home
Numerophobia: Fear of numbers
Nyctophobia: Fear of darkness
O
Obesophobia: Fear of gaining weight
Octophobia: Fear of the figure 8
Oikophobia: Fear of home surroundings and household appliances
Odontophobia: Fear of dentists or dental procedures
Ombrophobia: Fear of rain
Oneirophobia: Fear of dreams
Ophidiophobia: Fear of snakes
Ophthalmophobia: Fear of being stared at
Ornithophobia: Fear of birds
Osmophobia, olfactophobia: Fear of odour
P
Panphobia: Fear of everything or the constant fear of an unknown cause
Papyrophobia: Fear of paper
Pathophobia: Fear of disease
Pedophobia: Fear of babies and children
Phagophobia: Fear of swallowing
Phallophobia: Fear of masculinity
Pharmacophobia: Fear of medications
Phasmophobia: Fear of ghosts or phantoms
Philophobia: Fear of love
Phobophobia: Fear of fear itself or of having a phobia
Phonophobia: Fear of loud sounds or voices
Podophobia: Fear of feet
Pogonophobia: Fear of beards
Porphyrophobia: Fear of the color purple
Pteridophobia: Fear of ferns
Pteromerhanophobia: Fear of flying
Pyrophobia: Fear of fire
R
Radiophobia: Fear of radioactivity or X-rays
Ranidaphobia: Fear of frogs
Rhypophobia: Fear of defecation
Rhytiphobia: Fear of getting wrinkles
Rupophobia: Fear of dirt
S
Samhainophobia: Fear of Halloween
Scolionophobia: Fear of school
Scopophobia: Fear of being looked at or stared at
Selenophobia: Fear of the moon
Sexophobia: Fear of the organs for romantic activities
Siderodromophobia: Fear of trains or railroads
Siderophobia: Fear of stars
Sociophobia: Fear of people or social situations
Somniphobia: Fear of sleep
Spectrophobia: Fear of mirrors
Spheksophobia: Fear of wasps
Stasiphobia: Fear of standing or walking
T
Tachophobia: Fear of speed
Taphophobia: Fear of the graves or being buried alive
Tapinophobia: Fear of being contagious
Taurophobia: Fear of bulls
Technophobia: Fear of computers or advanced technology
Teratophobia: Fear of disfigured people
Tetraphobia: Fear of the number 4
Thalassophobia: Fear of the sea, or fear of being in the ocean
Thanatophobia: Fear of dying
Thermophobia: Fear of high temperatures
Tokophobia: Fear of childbirth or pregnancy
Tomophobia: Fear of invasive medical procedure
Toxiphobia: Fear of being poisoned
Tremophobia: Fear of trembling
Triskaidekaphobia, terdekaphobia: Fear of the number 13
Tonitrophobia: Fear of thunder
Trypanophobia, belonephobia, enetophobia: Fear of needles or injections
Trypophobia: Fear of holes or textures with a pattern of holes
U
Uranophobia, ouranophobia: Fear of heaven
Urophobia: Fear of urine or urinating
V
Vaccinophobia: Fear of vaccination
Vehophobia: Fear of driving
Venustraphobia: Fear of beautiful women
Verminophobia: Fear of germs
Vestiphobia: Fear of clothing
Virginitiphobia: Fear of abuse
W
Wiccaphobia: Fear of witches and witchcraft
X, Y, Z
Xanthophobia: Fear of the color yellow
Xenophobia: Fear of strangers, foreigners, or aliens
Xerophobia: Fear of dryness.
Xyrophobia: Fear of razors.
Zelophobia:  Fear of jealousy
Zeusophobia: Fear of God or gods
Zemmiphobia: Fear of the great mole rat.

new listcore scarycore phobia's

Prequel
A prequel is a film that is set before the original film.

Sequel
The most popular type of follow-up there is, a sequel picks up after the original/previous film. Whether that means directly after the previous film’s events, or 10 years after makes no difference – as long as it follows up directly, without any other project being in the way.

Midquel
Also called an interquel, a midquel is… well, something in the middle. Taken within a franchise, it’s the latest entry, but acts as a sequel to one or more of the original films, and in the same time acts as a prequel to others. Otherwise, it can also take place inside a single film – that for instance features a long time skip that is not explored as part of the original project, but the midquel comes back and explores it instead. Examples include Alien vs Predator, Terminator Salvation, Red Dragon, Solo: A Star Wars Story, and The Scorpion King.
so an interquel occurs between two already-established stories. If "Story Z" follows "Story X," but there is room between the two for another story, you could add "Story Y" as an interquel. An example of this in mainstream media would be Black Widow because this story takes place after the events of Captain America: Civil War and before the events of Avengers: Infinity War even though Avengers: Infinity War had already been released by this time.

Inquel
An inquel is a story that takes place within a gap of time in another story. If Story X has a period of time that is rushed through without being fully explored, that would give an author the opportunity to later go back and write an inquel. These are not common, but an example of this would be Bambi II, which occurs during the established events of Bambi. It explores the time period when Bambi is still a fawn and his mother has just died. It ends prior to the time when Bambi is shown as an adult in the first movie. 

trequel 
A work following a sequel; the third in a series, particularly of films. synonym ▲
Synonym: threequel

Paraquel
A paraquel isn't something you come across very often, but this is a story that occurs within the same world at the same time as another story. This means you will likely see overlapping characters and scenes, though they probably won't all be the same. If an author writes a story of the same events from another character's perspective, that would be a paraquel. If "Story X" and "Story Y" are happening at the same time to two different characters within the same world, the two stories would then be paraquels of each other. My book, The Heart of Everton Inn, is a paraquel in relation to The Secret of Drulea Cottage because the two stories are taking place at the same time, but The Heart of Everton Inn features Adaira Stubbins as the main character, whereas Briony Fairborn is the protagonist of The Secret of Drulea Cottage.

Circumquel
This type of story has events occurring before "Story X" and events occurring after "Story X." I can't recall ever watching a movie or reading a book with this type of story, and it seems like it would be very difficult to create a compelling one. I would think that making two separate stories (a prequel and a sequel) would be a better stylistic choice than putting both past and future events into one story.

postquel (Blend of post- +‎ sequel.)
(narratology) A work of fiction which is set after the events of an earlier installment in a series but is not an immediate sequel.

C.S. Lewis's The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe was followed by four sequels beginning with Prince Caspian, but also an inquel (The Horse and His Boy) and a prequel (The Magician's Nephew)

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Adrenal Gland Tumor(Pheochromocytoma)
Anosmia( Loss of Smell)
Athletes Foot( Tinea Pedis)
Bad Breath(Halitosis , Oral Malodor)
Bedwetting(Enuresis)
Bile Duct Cancer(Cholangiocarcinoma)
Blackheads(Comedones)
Bleedingnose(Nosebleed / Epistaxis)
Blepharospasm - Eye Twitching(Eye Twitching - Blepharospasm)
Bulging Eyes(Eye Proptosis | Exophthalmos)
Cephalgia(Headache)
Cheilitis | Chapped Lips
Conjunctivitis( Pink Eye)
Dry Skin(Xerosis)
Fasciculations(Muscle Twitching)
Fever(Pyrexia)
Gallstones(Cholelithiasis)
Herpangina (Painful Mouth Infection)(Mouth Blisters)
Itchy Skin(Pruritus)
Kinetosis(Travel Sickness / Sea sickness | Space sickness / Motion Sickness)
Nervous Tic(Trigeminal Neuralgia)
Ringworm(Tinea / Dermatophytosis)
Singultus(Hiccups , Hiccoughs , Synchronous Diaphragmatic Flutter (SDF))
Smelly Feet(Bromodosis)
Sneezing(Sternutation)
Stiff Neck(Neck Pain / Cervicalgia)
Stomach Flu(Gastroenteritis)
Strabismus|Squint
Utricaria(Hives)
Uveitis(Eye Inflammation)
Xerostomia(Dry Mouth)

new bodyhorrorcore healthcore eyecore legcore listcore synonyms

🤡 Clown Face
👹 Ogre
👺 Goblin
👻 Ghost
👽 Alien
👾
Alien Monster
🤖Robot
💋
Kiss Mark
💯
Hundred Points
💢
Anger Symbol
💥
Collision
💫
Dizzy
💦
Sweat Droplets
💨
Dashing Away
🕳️
Hole
💬
Speech Balloon
👁️‍🗨️
Eye In Speech Bubble
🗨️
Left Speech Bubble
🗯️
Right Anger Bubble
💭
Thought Balloon
💤
Zzz 
👋
Waving Hand
🤚
Raised Back of Hand
🖐️
Hand With Fingers Splayed
✋
Raised Hand
🖖
Vulcan Salute
🫱
Rightwards Hand
🫲
Leftwards Hand
🫳
Palm Down Hand
🫴
Palm Up Hand
🫷
Leftwards Pushing Hand
🫸
Rightwards Pushing Hand
👌
OK Hand
🤌
Pinched Fingers
🤏
Pinching Hand
✌️
Victory Hand
🤞
Crossed Fingers
🫰
Hand With Index Finger And Thumb Crossed
🤟
Love-You Gesture
🤘
Sign of the Horns
🤙
Call Me Hand
👈
Backhand Index Pointing Left
👉
Backhand Index Pointing Right
👆
Backhand Index Pointing Up
👇
Backhand Index Pointing Down
☝️
Index Pointing Up
🫵
Index Pointing At The Viewer
👍
Thumbs Up
👎
Thumbs Down
✊
Raised Fist
👊
Oncoming Fist
🤛
Left-Facing Fist
🤜
Right-Facing Fist
👏
Clapping Hands
🙌
Raising Hands
🫶
Heart Hands
👐
Open Hands
🤲
Palms Up Together
🤝
Handshake
🙏 folded hands

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𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰!! 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬

𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚒𝚜𝚝
𝙰𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚎𝚜
𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞
𝖠𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇'𝗌
𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝
𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜
𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜
𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍/𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐
ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ
ᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀʟ ᴄᴀsᴇs ᴀɴᴅ sᴇɴᴛᴇɴᴄᴇs
𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐
𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑
𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛
𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢
𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬
𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚎𝚜
ғɪɴᴀɴᴄɪᴀʟ ᴄʀɪsᴇs
𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛
𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞 / 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫
ʜᴀʀᴅsʜɪᴘ’s
𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝
𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎
𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎
𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗
𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚋𝚒𝚌
𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝
𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢
𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞
𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚝
ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ɪssᴜᴇs
𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵
ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ
𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞
𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬
𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕/𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜
ᴘʀᴏꜰɪᴛ
𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎
𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚝
𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬
ʀᴇʟɪɢɪᴏɴ
𝚂𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚖
𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬
𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚎𝚜
𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝
𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫
𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐠𝐞
𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚎𝚌𝚑 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚢
𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚜
𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚢
𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚎𝚡𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎’𝚜
𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲
𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑
𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

new nsfwcore listcore text

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

Here’s a breakdown of the most popular candy in each state:

Alabama: AirHeads
Alaska: Snickers
Arizona:  Toblerone
Arkansas: Skittles
California: Life Savers
Colorado: Milky Way
Connecticut: Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups
Delaware: 3 Musketeers
Florida: Nestlé Crunch
Georgia - Pixy Stix
Hawaii: 100 Grand Bar
Idaho: Butterfinger
Illinois: Snickers
Indiana: Reese’s Pieces
Iowa: Twix
Kansas: Twizzlers
Kentucky: Whoppers
Louisiana: Swedish Fish
Maine: Starburst
Maryland: Almond Joy
Massachusetts: Starburst
Michigan: M&M’s
Minnesota: 100 Grand Bar
Mississippi: Hershey’s Kisses
Missouri: Hershey’s Kisses
Montana: Kit Kat
Nebraska: Skittles
Nevada: Jolly Ranchers
New Hampshire: Tootsie Rolls
New Jersey: Sour Patch Kids
New Mexico: 3 Musketeers
New York: Sweetarts
North Carolina: Butterfinger
North Dakota: Sour Patch Kids
Ohio: Milky Way
Oklahoma: M&M’s
Oregon: Candy corn
Pennsylvania: Swedish Fish
Rhode Island: Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups
South Carolina: Candy corn
South Dakota: Laffy Taffy
Tennessee: Candy corn
Texas: Candy corn
Utah: Nerds
Vermont: Almond Joy
Virginia: Reese’s Pieces
Washington: AirHeads
West Virginia: Oreos
Wisconsin: Laffy Taffy
Wyoming: Candy corn
District of Columbia: Twix

new foodcore listcore candy

MS Paint (Windows 7)

https://paint.js.org/

new microsoftwindows listcore mspaint windows7 artcore

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

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY ix
(Autistic author)

With newfound enthusiasm, Plankton 
began to organize the mini jellyfish 
in the box, his antennae quivering 
as he meticulously arranged them 
by species and size. Each figurine 
was carefully placed, his movements 
deliberate and precise. "Jellyfish... 
special," he murmured, his monotone 
voice filled with a hint of wonder.

Sandy watched, her eyes shining with 
admiration. "You're really good at this," 
she said, her voice filled with warmth.

"Good at jellyfish," Plankton murmured, 
antennae waving slightly with pride. 
"Plankton's special place."

Sandy nodded, her tail swishing with 
excitement. "Yes," she said, her voice 
filled with encouragement. "You have 
a special place in the world, Plankton, 
and jellyfish are your thing."

As Plankton continued to organize his 
new collection, his movements grew 
more animated, his antennae quivering 
with purpose. Each jellyfish was placed 
with such precision that it was as if they 
were living beings in a miniature ocean. 
His eye never left his task, his mind fully 
engrossed in the world of jellyfish. It was 
as if by organizing them, he was somehow 
bringing order to his own chaotic thoughts.

"Plankton," Karen said softly, "I know this is a 
big change for you. But you know what? 
Maybe this is your chance to do 
something amazing with your life."

Sandy nodded, her eyes shining. "Let's go outside."

Plankton looked up from his box, his antennae 
twitching with excitement. "Outside?" 

"Yes, Plankton," Karen said, her smile warm.

They made their way outside, with Plankton carrying 
his precious box of jellyfish figurines, his antennae 
quivering with excitement at the prospect of sharing 
his knowledge. The sun was setting, casting a warm 
glow over Bikini Bottom as the trio strolled down the 
sidewalk.

Their peaceful evening was abruptly interrupted when 
they rounded the corner to find Mr. Krabs, his eyes wide 
with surprise at the sight of Plankton in the company 
of Karen and Sandy. "What's all this?" he barked, voice gruff.

Plankton's antennae drooped slightly, but he held his 
ground, his box of jellyfish figurines clutched tightly. 
"Mr. Krabs," he murmured, monotone voice cracking.

Mr. Krabs squinted at Plankton, his claw resting on his 
chin. "Well, if it isn't the little troublemaker," he said with 
a gruff chuckle. "What brings you out of the Chum Bucket?"

Karen's forced a smile. "We're just out for a little stroll
Krabs," she said. "Plankton's found a new hobby."

Mr. Krabs's eyes narrowed, curiosity piqued by the unusual 
sight of Plankton engaged in something other than his 
usual Krabby Patty obsession. "What kind of hobby?" he asks.

Plankton's antennae quivered as he held up his box of 
jellyfish figurines. "Jellyfish," he murmured, his monotone 
voice filled with a hint of pride.

Mr. Krabs's eyebrows shot up. "Jellyfish?" he repeated, his 
voice incredulous. "What's gotten into you, Plankton? You're 
not planning to use them for some crazy Krabby Patty scheme 
are you?"

Plankton's antennae twitched, but he remained calm. "No, Mr. 
Krabs," he murmured, voice firm. "Plankton loves jellyfish."

Mr. Krabs squinted at him, his claw tapping against his chin 
as he tried to process this new piece of information. "You 
love jellyfish?" he said, his voice filled with skepticism. "What's 
so special about jellyfish?"

Plankton's antennae waved slightly as he thought about how 
to explain it. "Jellyfish... unique," he murmured. 
"Different. Like Plankton."

Mr. Krabs's eyes narrowed. "Different, you say?" he repeated, his 
claw stroking his chin as he contemplated this revelation. "Well
I'll be a barnacle's uncle. I never knew you had an interest in any
thing but stealing me secret recipe."

Karen stepped forward, her tentacles waving gently. "Mr. Krabs, when 
Plankton hit his head because of you and when I took him to the 
hospital, well let's just say things are a little different now."

Mr. Krabs's eyes widened, his 
claw freezing mid-stroke. "Different? What
do you mean, different?"

Karen's tentacles waved in a calming gesture. "Plankton 
was diagnosed with autism after the incident with 
your cash register," she said gently.

Mr. Krabs's eyes bulged, and his claws clutched at his chest 
dramatically. "Autism? What?" he bellowed.

Sandy stepped forward, her voice firm and steady. "It's ok, Mr. 
Krabs," she said, her eyes on the crab. "It just means Plankton's 
brain works differently than ours. But he's still the same 
Plankton we know, and he's found something that makes him 
really happy."

Mr. Krabs's eyes darting between Plankton and his box 
of jellyfish. "Well, I'll be a sea cucumber's uncle," he 
murmured, his expression a mix of shock and confusion.

As they talked, a group of kids playing catch nearby 
accidentally bumped into Plankton, their laughter 
and shouts of excitement cutting through the air. 
In an instant, the delicate balance of jellyfish 
figurines was disrupted, and they spilled out 
of the box, scattered across the sidewalk. The 
children's ball rolled into the mix, coming to a stop.

Plankton froze on the ground, antennae shooting straight 
up, eye unblinking as he stared at the chaos before him. 
The children looked up, their laughter fading as they took 
in the scene.

"Plankton?" Karen's voice was gentle, but it was lost, mind 
racing as he tried to make sense of the sudden disarray.

The children stared, their laughter dying in their throats as 
they saw the tiny plankton's distress. One brave soul 
reached out to help, but pulled back when Plankton didn't react.

Karen and Sandy exchanged a worried glance. "Plankton?" 
Karen called again, her voice a little louder this time.

The children watched, their curiosity piqued by the sight. 
One by one, they cautiously approached, their eyes wide 
with a mix of fear and fascination.

"What's wrong with him?" a young fish whispered to another, their 
eyes darting from Plankton to the scattered jellyfish figurines.

"I think he's in shock," Krabs murmured, his own eyes filled 
with concern. "The disorganization of his jellyfish is really 
bothering him.."

Sandy nodded, her eyes on the children. "Why don't you guys help 
Plankton?" she suggested. "You can put the jellyfish back in the box. 
Let's all put them back the way he had them!"

The children looked at each other, then back at Plankton, who was still 
frozen on the ground. Slowly, they began to pick up the scattered 
figurines, their little hands moving with care as they tried to mimic the 
order Plankton had created. They whispered to each other, comparing 
notes and asking questions, their curiosity 
overcoming their initial fear.

Karen watched them work, her tentacles relaxing slightly as she saw the 
concern in their eyes. "Good job," she murmured, her voice gentle. "You're 
all helping out."

The children nodded, their eyes never leaving Plankton as they carefully 
placed each jellyfish back in the box. They worked in silence, their 
movements a mix of awe and caution. The sight of Plankton's intense 
focus on his jellyfish had left an impression on them, and they were 
determined to help him restore order to his miniature world.

One by one, the jellyfish returned to their spots, each figure a silent 
testament to Plankton's knowledge and passion. The children looked 
at each other, then back at Plankton, who hadn't moved a muscle, still 
rigid, his eye unblinking.

"Is he okay?" the bravest one asked, holding out a tentative fin.

Plankton remained unmoving, his antennae quivering slightly. The 
children's gentle whispers and the soft patter of their flippers on 
the pavement was the only sound as they worked.

The last jellyfish was placed back into the box, the figure of 
Burgessomedusa phasmiformis nestling into its spot among 
the others. The children held their breath, waiting for some 
sign from Plankton that he noticed their efforts.

Slowly, Plankton's antennae lowered, and he blinked once, then 
twice. He looked down into the box, his eyes scanning the neat 
rows of jellyfish. The children watched as a slight smile graced 
his lips, and he let out a sigh of relief. 

The children beamed, their eyes shining with pride, stepping back 
to give him space.

Mr. Krabs, still looking slightly stunned, took a tentative step forward. 
"Plankton?" he asked, his voice gruff but concerned.

Plankton's antennae quivered slightly as he looked up, his one eye focusing 
on the crab. "Mr. Krabs," he murmured, his monotone voice still present but 
with a hint of warmth.

Mr. Krabs's claw hovered over the 
box, unsure of what to say. "I had no idea 
Plankton," he murmured, his eyes 
on the meticulously organized jellyfish.

"It's ok," Plankton said, his monotone voice tinged with sadness. "Mr. 
Krabs didn't know."

Karen stepped in gently. "Krabs is just surprised," she explained. 
"He's never seen you like this before."

Mr. Krabs nodded, his expression softening slightly. "That's right," he 
said, his voice no longer filled with anger. "I've never seen 
you so... focused on something other than Krabby Patties."

"Jellyfish special," Plankton murmured, his antennae waving slightly.

"I didn't mean to cause you brain damage, Plankton.." Mr. Krabs says.

"It's okay," Plankton murmured, his antennae twitching slightly. 

new a life of diversity plabsen ix

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

CHIP AND FAIL xvii
(Autistic author)

Plankton quivered with
the effort to contain 
his anger.

"Chip, your dad's right,"
Karen said, her voice
a soft current of calm
amidst the storm. "You
have to learn to respect
his boundaries."

Plankton's antennae twitched.
He looked at Karen, his
eye filled with a mix of
gratitude and pain. "It's not just
the touch," he whispered, his voice
raw. "It's the types of touch,
the expectations... It's like I'm
drowning every day."

Karen nodded, her eyes never
leaving Plankton's. "And
Chip," she said, turning to her son,
"you need to learn to swim
without pushing him under."

Chip's eyes were wide with
understanding. "What can I do?"

Karen took a deep breath. "Just
ask before you touch," she said.
"And if he says no, respect it.
Give him space."

Chip's eyes searched his father's.
"Dad," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Plankton's antennae twitched, a
sign of his internal struggle.
Karen's hand squeezed his.

"Okay, Chip," she said, her voice
a gentle guide. "Ask your questions."

Chip took a deep breath. "What do
you mean by 'ask before I touch'?"
he ventured, his eyes on Plankton,
his antennae still a blur of agitation.

Plankton took a moment before
replying. "It means," he began,
his voice still sharp, "that I need
space. My brain can't handle
what yours can!"

"But Mom," Chip's voice was
still tentative, "How do we
know what touch..."

But Plankton's antennae shot up,
his eye a storm of agitation. "Just ask!"
he snapped. "It's not rocket
science, Chip. Just. Ask."

Chip took a deep breath, his
cheeks still flushed with anger.
"I'm asking what types of..."

But Plankton's antennae were
already back to their usual
calm state. "I know you're curious,"
he said, his voice softer. "But I can't
just list them. It's different every
day. Sometimes, a simple pat on the
back is too much. Other times, I
crave a hug."

Chip nodded slowly, his mind racing
with questions. "So, it IS a choice..."

But Plankton's antennae drooped. "No,
Chip," he said, his voice weary. "It's not
a choice. It's survival."

"Survival? Dad, a touch 
won't kill you.."

But Plankton's antennae 
twitched again. "It's not just 
about living," he said, his voice
sad. "It's about living without pain."

Chip's eyes searched his 
father's, seeing the weariness 
and hurt. He took a step closer,
his hand outstretched. "Can I?"
he asked, his voice tentative.

Plankton flinched, his antennae
shooting up. "What are you doing?"
he snapped, his voice tight with
anxiety.

"Just asking if it's okay," Chip said,
his hand hovering in midair. "I don't
want to..."

Plankton's antennae stopped
twitching. "If you're going to ask,
make it genuine," he said, his voice
softening. "Don't just do it because
you think it's the right thing to do."

Chip nodded, his hand
still hovering. "I want to learn,"
he said, his voice earnest. "What
can I do to make it better?"

Plankton's antennae quivered
slightly, a hint of softening.
"You can start by listening," he said,
his voice a little less sharp.

"What do you mean?" Chip
asked, his hand slowly lowering.

"I mean," Plankton began, his antennae
calming slightly, "that I need you to
understand that my boundaries are not
up for negotiation."

"But what if I want to hug you?"
Chip's voice was hopeful, his 
arms outstretched and already
reaching him.

Plankton's antennae shot
up again. "Chip, I said no!"
he yelled, his voice sharp with
pain. "How many times do I have to
tell you?"

Chip's eyes widened, his hands
falling to his side. "But I just..."

But Plankton's antennae were
a blur of agitation again. "You don't
get it!" he shouted. "It's not about
what YOU want, it's about what I need!"

Chip's eyes searched his father's,
his mind racing. "But Dad, I just
want to show you that I care," he
said, his voice quivering. "Is there
no way to do that without making
you uncomfortable?"

Plankton's antennae twitched. "Chip,"
he began, his voice weary, "just
because you don't see my struggle
doesn't mean it's not there."

Chip's eyes searched his father's, his
hands clenched at his sides. "But
how can I show you that I care?"

"Sleep, for now," Karen 
says. "We're all
tired. We can 
talk about this
another time."

Plankton's antennae
dropped slightly, his 
body visibly
deflating. Chip 
nodded, his eyes 
on the floor.

"Okay," he murmured.
"I'll just go to
my room."

Karen watched him go,
her heart heavy with the
knowledge that she had
to be the one to mend
the fracture between
father and son. She
turned to Plankton.

"Bedtime," she said, her
voice a gentle nudge. "We're
all exhausted. It's late."

The next morning, Chip 
awoke early.

He could feel the tension
in the air, thick and palpable.
The house was eerily silent.
He knew he had to make things
right for his dad.

Chip tiptoed to his parents's
room, his heart racing.
He pushed the door open.

Karen was sitting on the
edge of the bed. Plankton
was curled up, his antennae
twitching slightly.

Chip swallowed his pride. "Mom,
I'm sorry for what I said," he
mumbled. "Can you help me talk
to Dad?"

Karen's eyes softened. "Your father's
still sleeping," she said. "But I'll
talk to him when he wakes up."

Chip nodded. "I'll wait," he said,
his voice barely a whisper. "I'll do
whatever it takes."

Karen's eyes searched his,
seeing the determination in them.
"Alright," she said, her voice a
soft caress. "But remember, it's not
about fixing him. It's about
understanding him."

Chip nodded solemnly. "I know,"
he said. "I just want to be
there for him."

Karen's eyes filled with
pride. "That's all we can
ask for," she said. "But you
have to be patient."

Chip goes to his mom's
bed, sitting down.

"I'll wait," he says.
"I'm not leaving until
we talk."

Karen nods, her eyes filled with
understanding. "I'll stay with
you," she says. "But remember, we
have to give him space."

Chip nods, his gaze never leaving
his father's sleeping form. He
studies Plankton, his antennae
twitching slightly in his sleep.
He tries to imagine what it's like
for his dad, to live in a world
where a simple touch could be
torture.

He watches the rise and fall
of Plankton's chest, the gentle
sway of his antennae. He notices
how peaceful he looks when
his mind isn't bombarded by the
world's sensory assault, the way his
mouth is slightly open.

"Mom," Chip says, his voice
barely above a whisper. "What
does Dad's autism mean for his
sleep?"

Karen sighs, her eyes still
on Plankton. "It means that
his brain is always on alert,"
she explains. "Sleep can be
elusive for him. Sometimes, the
smallest sound can keep him
awake for hours."

Chip nods, his gaze still
on Plankton. "What
happened yesterday when I...
Dad was unresponsive?"

Karen sighs. "Sensory overload,"
she says. "It's like your brain
has too much to process, so
it just shuts down."

Chip nods, his eyes
still on Plankton. "Was he
like, awake?" he asks.

"Sort of," Karen replies,
her eyes never leaving
Plankton's restless form. 
"It's like he's trapped
in his own head."

"Could he hear me?" Chip's voice
was a mix of fear and hope.
"Could he feel anything?"

Karen looked at her son, her
heart heavy with the knowledge
that she was about to reveal a
painful truth. "He heard you," she
said gently. "But his brain couldn't
process it all."

Chip felt a lump in his throat.
"Could he see?" he asked,
his voice tight with emotion.

Karen nodded, her eyes
still on Plankton. "He could see
you," she said. "But it's like
his brain was stuck in a loop,
replaying the same scene over 
and over."

Chip felt the weight of his
father's pain, his own chest
constricting. "How long do
they usually last?"

Karen's gaze remained on
Plankton. "It varies," she
said. "Sometimes just seconds,
other times hours. It all depends
on how overwhelmed he gets."

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II xvii

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new AI Story Generator Written by AI listcore webcorecore writercore textcore charactercore artificial intelligence ai

GREAT CHIP vii
(Autistic author)

Karen's eyes searched their faces,
picking up on the unspoken tension.
"I see you two had a talk," she said gently,
her gaze lingering on Plankton. "How are 
you feeling?"

Plankton's antennae drooped slightly.
"Tired," he admitted. "But better."

Karen stepped closer to the bed,
her hand reaching out to cover
his own. "I'm here," she said softly.
"Do you remember what happened
in Chip's room before coming in here?"

Plankton's antennae twitched
nervously. "Bits and pieces,"
he admitted, his eye avoiding hers.
"I know I had a...moment. And I...
I was mad."

Karen's hand squeezed his gently.
"It's okay, sweetie," she said, her voice
soothing. "You don't have to be ashamed.
It's just your brain's way of coping."

Plankton's eye searched hers, his antennae
still. "But the things I said..."
his voice trailing off.

Karen's expression remained calm,
understanding. "They were the seizure's words,
not yours," she assured him. "We're just
glad you're okay."

Chip's gaze flitted between
his parents, his heart aching for his dad.
He knew he needed to be strong, to support
his father through this. "Can we talk more
about it tomorrow?" he suggested, his voice
filled with hope.

Plankton's antennae nodded wearily.
"We can," he said, his voice a mix
of relief and exhaustion. "But for now,
I need to rest. It's bedtime, so.."

Chip felt a twinge of sadness
at the thought of his dad's struggle,
but he also felt a spark of hope.
Maybe tomorrow would bring a new
understanding, a way to bridge
the gap between them.

The next morning, the sun streamed
through the blinds of their small, cluttered
bedroom, casting patterns on the floor.
Chip stirred, his mind filled with the
memories of the previous night's conversation.
He checked on Plankton, who was
still asleep, his antennae twitching slightly.
He knew today would be a new day,
a chance to start anew with his father.

Carefully, Chip padded out to the kitchen,
his thoughts racing with the promise
of understanding.

He found Karen at the counter,
sipping her morning coffee, her eyes
red-rimmed from the night's worry.

"Mom," he began, his voice
still thick with sleep. "Can we talk?"

Karen turned, her eyes
filled with the same
exhaustion he saw in Plankton's.
"Of course, honey," she said,
placing her mug down gently.

Chip took a deep breath,
his words spilling out like
water from a broken dam.
"I want to understand Dad's
condition," he said, his voice
determined. "I don't want
to make it worse for him."

Karen's eyes searched his,
seeing the sincerity in his gaze.
"That's a big step, Chip,"
she said, her voice filled
with pride. "But it's not
going to be easy. It'll take
patience and practice."

Chip nodded, his expression
resolute. "I'm ready," he said.
"I just don't want Dad to be
alone in this."

Karen's face softened, her hand
resting on his shoulder. "You're
such a good son," she said, her
voice warm with affection. "But 
remember, he might not always
know how to ask for help. Sometimes,
you'll have to read between the lines."

Chip nodded, his mind racing
with questions and concerns.
"But what if I mess up?"
he asked, his voice trembling.

Karen's hand gave his shoulder
a gentle squeeze. "You might,"
she said, her voice filled with
experience. "But that's okay. Just
keep trying, and we'll figure
it out together."

Her words echoed in Chip's head
as he sat down at the kitchen
table, his eyes never leaving
his mother's. "But how do I know
what to do?"

Karen took a deep breath, her
eyes filled with a quiet strength.
"You'll learn," she said, her voice
calm and reassuring. "It's about
patience and observation. And
most importantly, communication."

Chip nodded, feeling the
weight of her words. "Okay," he said.
"I'll do my best."

Karen's hand squeezed his
shoulder gently. "You already are,"
she said, her smile warm.

Chip felt a surge of determination.
He was going to be there for his dad,
no matter what it took. "What can I do
now?" he asked, eager to start.

Karen's eyes searched his, a hint
of sadness in them. "Now, we wait,"
she said. "Let him sleep. When he wakes,
be there, but don't overwhelm him."

Chip nodded, his mind racing with
questions and fears, feeling a mix of emotions:
fear, love, and a newfound
determination to be the best
son he could be.

As he waited for Plankton to
wake up, he tried to remember
the cues his dad had mentioned:
twitching antennae, a sudden
quietness, a look of overwhelm.
He promised himself to be more
aware, more attuned to his father's needs.

new great chip tiredcore vii

AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY vii


(Autistic author)



The movie ended with the
snails crossing the finish line.
Sponge Bob reached for the remote,
fingers hovering over the
button. "Would you like to watch
something else?" he asks, voice
soft. 

Sponge Bob noticed his
friend Plankton's gentle
snores. He had fallen asleep,
his body slack. "Plankton?"
he whispered. 
Sponge Bob leaned closer,
his heart skipping a beat as he
noticed Plankton's gentle
snores. Plankton didn't stir, his
body slumped slightly curled up.
Sponge Bob's gaze
softened as he realized
he had fallen asleep
likely for the night.

Sponge Bob felt a wave of
relief wash over him, for Plankton
found comfort in their shared
experience.
He gently cradles him.

Karen, watching from the doorway,
smiled softly as she saw Sponge
Bob's gentle care. She knew that
Sponge Bob had always had a
special bond with Plankton, but
now, it seemed that bond had grown
deeper, more meaningful.

He had always been
there for Plankton, through
their many adventures and
misunderstandings. Now, in the
face of Plankton's new reality,
he remained steadfast, offering a
steady hand in the storm of change.

"Let's get him to bed," Karen
whispered, stepping into the room.
Her eyes met Sponge Bob's, her gaze
filled with warmth and thanks.
Together, they carefully lifted
Plankton from the couch, his
body limp with sleep. His antennae
twitched slightly at the sudden
movement, but his snores remained
steady, a testament to his deep sleep.
Sponge Bob walked down the hallway,
his steps light, carrying 
Plankton with ease.

Karen had prepared the bed.
They laid him down, his antennae
flailing briefly before settling
against the pillow. Sponge Bob
tucked the blanket around him,
his movements careful not to
disturb his friend.

Plankton's snores grew quieter as
his body settled into the cool
embrace of the sheets. His antennae
twitched one last time before
going still, his mouth slightly parted.

Sponge Bob and Karen stepped back,
exchanging a look of shared
relief. "He's asleep," Karen
murmured, her voice a soft
caress in the quiet room.

Sponge Bob nodded, his gaze
lingering on Plankton's peaceful
face. "Thanks for today,
Karen," he said, his voice
grateful.

Karen's smile was warm. "Anytime,
Sponge Bob," she replied. "You're
such a good friend to him."

Sponge Bob nodded, his eyes
still on Plankton's sleeping
form. "Always will be," he said.

The next morning, Plankton woke
up, and his antennae
twitched as he registered the
events of the previous day.
He sat up, the blanket sliding
off his body, and looked around.

Sponge Bob stirred from the
armchair, where he had dozed off
watching over him. "Morning,
Plankton," he said, his voice
slightly rough with sleep.

Plankton's antennae quivered as
he looked around, his gaze
falling on Sponge Bob. 

Sponge Bob yawned, stretching his
spongy body, his voice gentle. "You 
fell asleep."

Plankton's antennae twitched as
his eye focused on Sponge Bob,
his brain slowly piecing together
the events of the previous evening.

Sponge Bob's smile was warm. "You
tired out, buddy?" he asked, his
voice gentle.

Plankton nodded slowly, his antennae
twitching slightly. "Tired," he
murmured, his voice still thick with
sleep.

Sponge Bob nodded, understandingly.
"How about we start with a quiet
morning?" he suggested. 

Plankton's antennae quivered
slightly before he nods. "Quiet
morning," he murmured, his voice
agreeable.

Sponge Bob nodded, his
expression filled with concern.
"How about some pancakes?" he offered.
"They're nice and easy on the
stomach."

Plankton's antennae perked up at
the mention of food. "No pancakes,"
he murmured, his voice still
sluggish with sleep.

Sponge Bob's eyes widened. "No
pancakes?" he repeated,
surprise evident in his tone.
"But you love pancakes!"

Plankton's antennae quivered as
he thought, his voice a soft
whisper. "Pancakes... no," he said,
his gaze drifting to the
window where the early morning
sun peeked through the curtains.
The light was gentle, not yet
harsh enough to cause him pain. 
"Toast," he decided, his voice
final.

Sponge Bob nodded, his smile
slightly saddened but respectful
of Plankton's new boundaries. "Okay,
toast it is," he said, standing up
from the chair and heading to
the kitchen.

Karen met SpongeBob. "Good
morning! How's everything?"

Sponge Bob's expression was a
mixture of hope and trepidation.
"Plankton's okay," he said. "He's just
really tired."

Karen nodded, her gaze
following her husband as he
slowly made his way to the kitchen.
"It's going to take some time for
us to figure this out," she said.
"But we'll get there."

Sponge Bob nodded, his eyes
never leaving Plankton's
reclined form. "We will," he said,
his voice firm with resolve.

He returned to the kitchen,
his spongy feet padding softly
against the floor. The room was
bathed in the gentle light of dawn,
the quiet hum of the
refrigerator the only sound. He
pulled out a loaf of bread,
his mind racing with thoughts
of Plankton's new needs.

Sponge Bob carefully sliced
two pieces of toast, placing them
in the toaster with a soft click.

"Morning!" Karen says as Plankton
sits down. She gives him milk, as
she knew it soothes him.

"Stayed up late for movie. Still am
tired. Love Karen and SpongeBob."

The toaster's ding pierced the
silence, and Plankton's antennae
shot straight up, his body
stiffening at the sudden noise.

"Easy, Plankton," Sponge Bob called
from the kitchen, his voice
soothing. "It's just the toast."

"Toast," he murmured. "Toast."

Sponge Bob carefully brought the
toast to the table, placing it
before Plankton. The scent of warm
bread filled the air, mingling with
the comforting aroma of Karen's
brewing coffee. Plankton's antennae
twitched as he took in the sight, his
body visibly relaxing at the
familiar smells.

"Yesterday's crazy, autistic or not. And
you're still getting used to it all."
Karen says as Plankton eats the toast.

Plankton nodded, his antennae
twitching slightly, still exhausted.

The milk Karen had given him was
warm, the perfect temperature to
soothe his still-frazzled nerves. He
brought the cup to his lips, his
hands trembling just a bit.

As the creamy liquid slid down his
throat, Plankton felt a gentle
wash of calm spread through him.
His antennae, which had been
twitching in anticipation of the
morning's noises, grew still.
It usually helps calm him, which is
what it did today.

Sponge Bob sat opposite him,
his eyes filled with concern.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice
soft and gentle.

Plankton nodded, his antennae
drooping as he took another sip of
his milk. "Tired," he murmured.

Karen sat next to him, her hand
resting lightly on his shoulder. "It's
okay," she said, her
voice a gentle reminder of his
new reality.

SpongeBob helped Karen clean
up the kitchen.

Plankton sat in the chair, his
body slumped, his antennae
still. His eye was closed, his
tiny chest rising and falling in
the slow, steady rhythm of
sleep. His head tilted back
and a soft snore escaped
his open mouth.

Karen noticed. The past 
few days had taken a
toll on him, but she knew
that with time and patience,
they would find their new
normal.

"Let's get you to the couch,"
she murmured, her voice
soft. She gently took the
cup from Plankton's hand,
his grip loose with sleep.
Sponge Bob helped her lift
his tiny form from the chair.

Together, they carried him
to the living room, his body
relaxed in their grasp.
They placed him on the couch,
his antennae twitching slightly
as he settled into the pillows.

Sponge Bob tucked the blanket
around Plankton, his eyes
never leaving his friend's
sleeping face. "Rest, Plankton,"
he whispered. "We're here."

Karen nodded, her pixel eyes
misting with emotion. "Thank
you, Sponge Bob," she said. "For
being here."

Sponge Bob's smile was genuine.
"Always, Karen," he said, his
spongy hand giving hers a gentle
squeeze. "Always."

new autism in the plankton family sleepicore vii

CATCH IN MY CHIP vii
(Autistic author)

the only sound the steady
rhythm of their breaths. Plankton's
body slowly relaxes, his
eye unclenching, his antennas
stilling. Karen's hand remains
poised, ready to offer comfort
should he need it.

As his breathing evens,
Plankton's eye flutter open.
He looks at Karen, her face a
picture of love and concern.
He feels a pang of guilt for
his earlier outburst, but also a
wave of gratitude for her
understanding. He knows she
doesn't push or harm, she just gets it.

Karen sees the shift in
his gaze, the anger
giving way to something softer.
"Do you want to
talk about it?" she 
asks, her voice
barely above a whisper.

Plankton shakes his
head slightly, his antennas
drooping. "No," he murmurs,
his voice hoarse. "Just...
needing a moment."

Karen nods, her hand
still hovering, a silent
offer of comfort. "Take all
the moments you need,"
she says, her voice gentle.

Plankton's gaze lingers
on her hand for a
moment before he nods.
He understands her unspoken
offer, her respect for his boundaries.

Karen knows that touch can
sometimes be too much for him,
a sensation that turns comforting
into overwhelming. So, she waits,
letting the air between them
remain unbroken by physical
contact, allowing him the space
he desperately needs.

The room is a canvas of shadows
and quiet, the only sound the
soft rustle of their breaths. Plankton
slowly uncoils, his body no longer
a taut wire ready to snap.

"Do you want me to let
you alone?" Karen asks, her voice
soft as a whisper in the night.
Plankton shakes his head, his eye
meeting hers. The anger is gone,
replaced by a weary sadness.

She nods, her hand still hovering,
a silent question mark. "Okay,"
she says, her voice a gentle
caress. "But if you need anything,
just tell me."

Plankton takes a deep breath,
his shoulders rising and falling
like waves on the shore. "Thank
you," he murmurs, his eye
brightening slightly.

Karen nods, her hand
still hovering but not
touching. "I'm here," she says.
"Always." Her voice is a
lullaby in the quiet room,
a gentle reminder that
she's his anchor in the
storm of sensory overload.

Plankton's antennas twitch
slightly, a flicker of
understanding passing between
them. He's aware of her presence,
but the weight of his guilt
and frustration is to much.

"I'm sorry," he whispers,
his voice a frayed thread of
his usual bravado.

Karen's hand remains hovering,
a silent question, a gentle offer.
"Do you want me to stay?" she asks,
her voice a soft breeze in the stillness.

Plankton nods, his antennas
still drooping. "Yeah," he murmurs,
his voice a whisper of relief.

Karen's hand lowers slowly,
coming to rest on the bed between
them. She's careful not to
cross the invisible barrier of his personal
space, her touch a gentle
promise of support.

"You don't have to be sorry,"
she whispers, her voice a soft
caress. "You're doing the best
you can, Plankton."

He nods, his antennas
twitching slightly. "But I
snapped," he says, his voice
filled with regret.

Karen's hand remains still,
just outside his personal space.
"It's okay," she whispers, her
tone filled with empathy. "You're
overwhelmed. It happens."

Plankton nods, his antennas
barely moving. "But I shouldn't
have yelled," he says, his voice
barely above a murmur. "I'm sorry."

Karen's eyes fill with
understanding. "It's okay, sweetie,"
she says. She reaches out
slowly, her hand hovering an inch
from his shoulder. "May I?" she asks,
her eyes searching his for consent.

Plankton's antennas twitch, his
body still tense, but he nods.
It's a small gesture, but it's
enough. Karen's hand settles on
his shoulder, her touch feather-light.

He flinches at first, his body
remembering the pain of the
unexpected touch, but her gentle
pressure is a soothing balm.
He leans into it slightly, his
body language speaking louder
than his words ever could.

Her hand on his shoulder is
the bridge between them, a
testament to their love and
understanding. Plankton's breathing
gradually deepens, his body
softening into the mattress. Karen's
touch is a lullaby, a promise that
everything will be okay.

The room is a cocoon of quiet,
their breaths the only sound.
Plankton's eye droops, his
body finally succumbing to
exhaustion. The weight of his
head shifts slightly, his trust
in Karen unspoken but palpable.

Her hand remains on his
shoulder, a gentle reminder of
her presence. She watches
his chest rise and fall, his
body slowly relaxing under
the soft blanket of sleep. His
features smooth out, the lines
of anger and frustration
disappearing into the pillow.

As his breaths become
even, Karen can't help but feel
a mix of sadness and love.
Her heart goes out to him,
this man she's spent her life
with, who fights battles she
can never fully understand.

The room is a sanctuary
of quiet, the air thick with the
scent of their unspoken
words. Plankton's hand twitches
slightly, and she wonders if he's
dreaming of a world where the
noise isn't so loud, where the
colors aren't so bright, where
his mind can rest without
fear of being bombarded.

Karen watches as her
husband's chest rises and falls,
his breaths deepening into
the steady rhythm of sleep.
The lines of his face relax,
his antennas droop slightly.

Her gaze shifts to the
shattered trophy on the floor,
the sand scattered like a
tiny desert. The room is a
testament to the storm that
was his sensory overload.

Karen's hand tightens slightly
on Plankton's shoulder, her
heart aching for both her
husband and son. She knows the
road ahead won't be easy, that
they'll need to navigate this
new terrain with care. But as
she watches Plankton's chest
rise and fall, she feels a
spark of hope.

new catch in my chip Chip Plankton II vii

CHIP AND FAIL xvi
(Autistic author)

"Both of you, sit down," Karen
ordered, her voice firm but
not unkind. They complied,
their movements jerky with
emotion.

"Chip, your father's autism
is not an excuse for this
behavior, but it's also not
something to mock," Karen began,
looking at her son with
serious eyes. "It's a part of
him, and we need to respect it."

Chip's anger subsided slightly. "But
you saw what happened earlier," he
said, his voice still shaking. "It's like
he doesn't even want to be around me."

But Plankton's not quite done.
"Why do you think that is, Chip? Go
on, smarty, enlighten..."

Karen's patience had run out. "Plankton,"
she said, her voice stern.
"That's enough."

He glared at Chip, his antennae
quivering with anger. Chip looked
away from him.

"And Plankton," Karen's voice was
a gentle reprimand, "Your son's
ignorance is not an excuse for
anger. We all need to communicate
better."

Plankton's antennae drooped.
"I know," he murmured, his anger
easing slightly. "It's just..."

Karen's voice was firm. "I know it's
frustrating, but we need to work
together." She turned to Chip.
"And Chip, your father's feelings are
valid. You can't ignore them."

Chip looked at his father, his
eyes filled with regret. "I'm sorry,
Dad," he murmured. "I didn't
mean to hurt you."

Karen's voice was calm as
she interceded. "Plankton, can
you tell Chip what happened
today? Help him understand?"

Plankton's antennae stopped
shaking. He took a deep breath.
"When you touch me without
asking," he began, his voice
still sharp, "my body can't
always handle what yours can."

Karen's eyes were a gentle
reminder of the lesson she had
tried to teach earlier. She nodded
for him to continue.

"When you poke me 
or touch me without
asking," Plankton said, 
"it's overwhelming."

"I just barely touched you
for one second, Dad!"

"To you, it's one second," Plankton
replied, his antennae drooping. "To me,
it's an eternity of discomfort."

Karen stepped in. "Chip," she said,
"You need to understand that for
him, it's not just about
physical contact. It's about
respecting his boundaries."

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II xvi

CHIP AND FAIL vii
(Autistic author)

Plankton's body tensed, his
eye squeezing shut as he tried to
block out the onslaught of
sensations. "Chip," he murmured,
his voice strained, "I can't."
"What do you mean?"
He didn't know his touch, his
words, his very presence was a
storm in Plankton's mind. He
just wanted to share his week,
his joy, with his dad.

Plankton took a deep, shaky
breath, his antennae twitching.
"I have... I have something
that makes it hard for me to...
to handle..."

But Chip's excitement was unable to
comprehend the distress he was
causing. "Handle what, Dad?" he
asked, his voice filled with
eagerness. "You can tell me anything!"

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his eye flickering with pain.
He knew he had to find the
words, to explain the storm
that raged in his mind, his 
voice trembling. "I
can't... I just..."

Chip's eyes searched his
father's, his hands reaching out
again. 
But Plankton was already
slipping away, his mind a tornado of
sensations. He couldn't find the
words, the storm too loud.

Chip, oblivious to the turmoil,
pressed on. "Dad, you can tell me
anything," he said, his voice
bubbling over with eagerness. His
hands reached out again, his touch
like a lightning bolt in Plankton's
overstimulated world.

Plankton's antennae quivered
with the effort of maintaining
his composure. He didn't know
how to explain the maelstrom
that was his mind, the way each
touch and sound felt like a
thunderclap. "Chip," he began again,
his voice strained, "I'm..."

But Chip was a hurricane,
his enthusiasm unyielding. "Is it
because of the college?" he
asked, his screen sparkling. "Or
Nutmeg?" He didn't realize that
his words, his touch, were the
fuel for the storm.

Plankton's eye searched
his son's, desperate for a
moment of calm. "Chip, no,
it's not about..." His voice
was a whisper, lost in the wind
of his son's excitement.

But Chip didn't hear the
desperation, his mind a kaleidoscope
of thoughts and memories.
He didn't see the pain he was
causing, only his own need
for connection. "But Dad,
I just wanted to..."

Plankton's antennae shot up,
his body tensing like a bowstring.
"Chip," he said, his voice
a whipcrack of agony. "P-please."

But Chip was in his own
world, racing with
the excitement of his week. "Come
on, Dad," he said, his voice
filled with cheerful oblivion. "It's
so cool, you've gotta see it!"
He grabbed Plankton's hand, pulling
him to hard.

Plankton's body jerked, his
eye wide with pain. The sudden
contact was like a sledgehammer
to his overstimulated mind, his
thoughts scattering like leaves
in a storm. "Chip," he managed,
his voice strained, "please."

But Chip's excitement was a
freight train, barreling forward
without a care for the tracks.
He didn't see the agony etched
in Plankton's features, didn't feel
the tension in his father's
body. "Come on, Dad," he said,
his grip tightening. "It's going
to be amazing, I..."

Plankton's body spasmed at the
contact, his antennae vibrating
wildly. The room grew too bright,
the sounds too loud, the air too
thin. He couldn't move, couldn't
think. His mind was a cacophony
of sensations, a symphony of
overload. "Chip," he choked out,
his voice a plea. "I... I can't."

Chip's face fell, not realizing how
angry his dad's getting. "What do you..."

But Plankton was already
spiraling, his mind a tornado of
sensory assault. He didn't know
how to make Chip understand,
his voice a thunderclap of despair.
"I CAN'T!" he shouted, his antennae
waving erratically.

Chip's smile faltered, his eyes
wide with shock. He had never
seen his dad like this before,
his touch a match to a fuse. He
took a step back, his hands up in
surrender. "You mean, you won't!"
he asked, his voice shaking.

Plankton took a deep, shuddering
breath, his antennae drooping.
"Chip," he said, his voice tight with
frustration. "I can't. Not right
now. I need..."

But Chip's crashing over the delicate
barriers Plankton had built to
keep his world in order. "But Dad,
it's just a story!" he exclaimed,
his voice booming in the quiet
living room. "It's not a big deal,
you're just being..."

The room grew smaller, the walls
closing in on Plankton as Chip's
words echoed in his mind. Just a
story? To Chip, it was a simple
tale of adventure, but to Plankton,
it was a minefield of sensory input
his brain couldn't process. "Chip,
please," he murmured, his antennae
twitching wildly. "I'm trying..." "You're
not trying hard enough!" Chip said,
his voice filled with the kind of
innocent exasperation that only
a child can muster. "But if you're
trying to break our family, congratulations!
You..."

Plankton's antennae shot up,
his body rigid with tension. The
accusation hit him like a tidal
wave, threatening to drown him
under the weight of his own
failure. "Chip," he said, his voice
a desperate plea. "It's not..."

But Chip's screen filled
with accusation, his voice
loud in the suddenly too-small
room. "Why can't you just be
normal?" he demanded, his grip
on Plankton's hand tightening.

Plankton's antennae quivered,
his eye squeezed shut against
the assault. "I'm sorry," he
whispered, his voice breaking.
"I'm not... I'm not like other
dads."

"Well DUH! You just can't handle it,
can you?" Chip said, his voice
filled with frustration. He didn't
see the pain in Plankton's eye,
the way his antennae drooped with
each accusation. "But it's just a
story, Dad. It's not that..."

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his body trembling with the effort
to stay calm. "Chip, you don't
understand," he said, his voice
barely above a whisper. "My mind
is like a... a... "

Chip's eyes searched his
father's, his expression a mix
of confusion and anger. "What?
What's wrong with you? Let me
guess, you're just being dramatic
again," he said, his voice
harsher than he intended. Plankton
flinched at the accusation, his
antennas stiffening.

Karen watched from the
sidelines, aching. She knew
this moment was inevitable, but
seeing the pain was like a knife to her.
She took a deep breath,
steeling herself for the conversation
that needed to happen.

"Chip, sweetie," she began, her voice
soft and gentle, "Dad's not
being dramatic." She took a step
forward, placing a hand on her
son's shoulder, feeling the tension
beneath his skin. "Your dad has..."

"Mom, my 'dad' has no place 
in OUR family! Your life is a lie!"
Chip's words, fueled by confusion
and hurt, echoed through to
Plankton, his voice shaking.

Karen's hands shook as she reached
for Chip. "No, honey," she said,
her voice trembling, "it's not
that simple." But Chip was already
storming out of the room, his
footsteps like thunder in the quiet
hallway.

Plankton slumped back against
his chair, his antennae drooping.
He had hoped Chip would never
have to know, never have to feel
the way he did. The way his mind
was like a cluttered room, with no
way to organize the chaos. He
closed his eye, the weight of
his secret heavy on his shoulders.

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II vii

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM vii

(Autistic author)

He starts to rock back 
and forth, his 
single eye squeezed shut 
as he tries to cope with 
the sudden change in his 
environment.
Mr. Krabs' confusion 
deepens, his claws 
scratching his head in 
bemusement. "What's 
gotten into you, Plankton?" 
he says.
But Plankton can't 
stop. His rocking 
intensifies, his 
whispered mantra 
becoming more 
desperate. "Fish, fish, 
fish," he repeats, his 
voice rising slightly 
with each iteration.
Mr. Krabs stares at 
Plankton, his confusion
turning. 
"Plankton, you ok?"
he asks.
But Plankton is lost 
in his own world, his 
stimming a way to 
self-regulate. His antennas 
wave back and forth in 
a soothing rhythm, his 
body rocking slightly as 
he murmurs "fish, fish, 
fish."
Sponge Bob's heart 
aches as he watches 
his friend, his own 
hands clenching into 
fists at his side. He 
understands now that 
Plankton's behavior isn't 
a game, it's a coping 
mechanism, a way to 
navigate through the 
chaos in his head.
"Plankton, it's ok," 
Sponge Bob says 
soothingly, approaching 
his friend. He gently 
picks up one of the 
fallen chess pieces, a 
knight, and holds it 
out to him. "Do you 
want to play again?"
Plankton's antennas 
cease their frantic 
motion, his eye 
focusing on the knight. 
He takes it, his 
fingers tracing the 
intricate carvings, 
his breathing 
steadying. "Fish," he 
says, his voice 
calmer.
Sponge Bob watches 
his friend carefully, 
his heart breaking at 
the sight of his 
distress. He 
understands now that 
Plankton's repetition 
is not just a strange 
behavior, but a 
way to cope with 
his new reality.
Mr. Krabs, still 
confused, watches as 
Plankton's  
tracing the lines of 
the chessboard. "What 
are ye doing?" he 
asks, his voice 
annoyed.
Sponge Bob's eyes 
meet Plankton's, and 
he sees the 
desperation in his 
friend's eye. "Mr. Krabs, 
Plankton's just... trying 
to remember how to 
play," he lies gently.

Mr. Krabs grumbles but 
doesn't argue. Sponge 
Bob takes this 
moment to sit next 
to Plankton, placing 
his hand on his 
shoulder. "It's ok," he 
whispers. "We'll play 
again when you're 
ready."

Plankton's antennas 
twitch, his eye
dilating slightly as 
he nods. He clutches 
the knight tightly, 
his thumb stroking 
its smooth surface. 
It's a familiar 
comfort, something 
from before the accident, 
before the world 
became a confusing 
cacophony of sounds 
and sights.

As the moments 
pass, Plankton's gaze 
remains fixed on the 
chessboard, the 
pattern of the squares 
providing a 
comforting visual 
stimulation. Sponge Bob 
notices the subtle 
change in his friend's 
demeanor, the tension 
easing from his 
tiny body.

"Fish," Plankton 
murmurs again, but this 
time with less urgency. 
He carefully sets 
the knight back 
down on the board, 
his hand hovering 
above it. Sponge 
Bob's heart swells 
with affection, and 
he knows that 
despite the confusion 
and fear in Plankton's 
eye, his friend is 
trying.

Mr. Krabs, however, is 
far from convinced, his 
eyes narrowing. "If 
this is how you're going to 
be, I'm not playing," he 
declares, crossing his arms 
over his chest.
But Plankton's antennas 
perk up slightly, his 
interest piqued by the 
challenge. He picks up 
the knight again, his 
thumb caressing the piece. 
"Fish," he whispers, 
his gaze flicking to 
Sponge Bob and then 
back to the board. It's a 
plea.
Sponge Bob nods, his 
face a picture of solemn 
reassurance. "It's ok," 
he repeats. "Just..."

"What's wrong 
with you, Plankton?" Mr. 
Krabs exclaims.

Plankton's antennas 
droop, and he looks 
down at his cards again. 
He doesn't know how to 
explain his condition to 
Mr. Krabs, who's always 
so dismissive of him. 

He feels a pang of 
desperation,
racing to find a way 
to bridge 
understanding.
Then, it hits him.
With trembling 
hands, Plankton 
mimics Mr. Krabs' 
crossed arms, his 
voice a poor imitation. 
"What's wrong 
with you, Plankton," he 
repeats firmly.
Mr. Krabs' eyes 
bulge with surprise. 
"What's this now?" he 
mutters, giving way to 
amusement. He chuckles 
deeply, his claws 
unfolding from his 
chest.

Sponge Bob 
understands Plankton. 
"Mr. Krabs," he says 
quickly, trying to 
intercept the situation. 
"Plankton's..."
But Mr. Krabs waves 
his hand dismissively. 
"I know, I know," he says, 
his voice filled with 
mockery. "Just playing 
his little games."

Plankton doesn't want to 
be laughed at, especially 
not by Mr. Krabs. With 
determined effort, he 
mimics Mr. Krabs. 
"I know I know," he says 
again, his tone 
mimicking Mr. Krabs'. 
"Just playing his little
games!"
Mr. Krabs' laughter 
fades, his gaze 
sharp. "What
now, Plankton?" he 
demands, his voice 
hard.

Plankton's antennas quiver 
with determination as he 
picks up Mr. Krabs' 
mannerisms. "I know, I know," 
he repeats, his eye fixed on 
Mr. Krabs. "Just playing his 
little games!"

Mr. Krabs' expression 
sours to 
irritation. "What's your 
game, Plankton?" he snaps.

"Game," he 
repeats, his voice a 
mirror of Mr. Krabs'. "Game, 
game Mr. Krabs."

Mr. Krabs' eyes 
narrow, his 
confusion shifting 
to annoyance. "You're 
not making sense," 
he says, his voice 
sharp.

But Plankton 
doesn't stop. "Game, 
game Mr. Krabs," he 
persists, his antennas 
waving frantically.

Sponge Bob's heart 
squeezes. He 
knows Plankton's not 
trying to annoy; he's 
desperately trying to 
convey something, but 
his brain's wiring isn't 
cooperating. Plankton's repetition 
has turned into a 
mantra, a plea for 
understanding that only 
Mr. Krabs seems to 
ignore.

Mr. Krabs' patience 
snaps. "Enough!" he 
shouts, slamming his 
claws on the table. 
"What do you want 
from me, Plankton?"

Plankton's antennas 
flatten, his eye
filling with tears.

Sponge Bob jumps 
up, his own voice 
shaky. "Mr. Krabs, please, 
don't yell," he begs. 
"It's just a game."

Mr. Krabs' face 
twists in anger. "This isn't a 
game, this is your usual 
scheme to drive me 
crazy!"

"No, Mr. 
Krabs," he says.

new a journey to autism gamefic vii

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS vii

(Autistic Author)



The film starts, and for a while, the only 
sound is the muffled dialogue and the 
occasional sniffle from Chip. Karen's 
hand finds its way to Plankton's, giving it 
a gentle squeeze. He flinches at first but 
then relaxes slightly, allowing her 
contact.

Plankton's antennae still
and he turns to look at Chip, who's 
staring at the screen, lost 
in the fantasy.

Karen watches them both, torn 
between anger and pity. She knows 
Plankton's anger isn't directed at Chip, 
but it's hard to see her son hurt.

The movie plays on, the sound of 
laughter and adventure a stark contrast 
to the heavy silence that hangs over 
them. Plankton's antennae twitch as he 
glances at Chip, his eye flickering with 
regret.

Karen feels the tension in the room 
begin to ease as Chip becomes 
engrossed in the film. He shifts closer to 
Plankton, seeking comfort without 
words. Plankton's antennae droop 
slightly, and he sighs, his grip on the 
armrest of the couch tightening.

The film starts, and for a while, the only 
sound is the muffled dialogue and the 
occasional sniffle from Chip. Karen's 
hand finds its way to Plankton's, giving it 
a gentle squeeze. He flinches at first but 
then relaxes slightly, allowing her 
contact.

Plankton's antennae still
and he turns to look at Chip, who's 
staring at the screen, lost 
in the fantasy.

Karen watches them both, torn 
between anger and pity. She knows 
Plankton's anger isn't directed at Chip, 
but it's hard to see her son hurt.

The movie plays on, the sound of 
laughter and adventure a stark contrast 
to the heavy silence that hangs over 
them. Plankton's antennae twitch as he 
glances at Chip, his eye flickering with 
regret.

Karen feels the tension in the room 
begin to ease as Chip becomes 
engrossed in the film. He shifts closer to 
Plankton, seeking comfort without 
words. Plankton's antennae droop 
slightly, and he sighs, his grip on the 
armrest of the couch tightening.

During a particularly suspenseful scene, 
Chip reaches out and grabs Plankton's 
arm instinctively.

But the sudden touch sends Plankton 
spiraling. His antennae shoot up, and he 
starts to shake uncontrollably.

"Daddy?" Chip asks, his grip tightening 
in concern.

Plankton's body jolts, his antennae 
flailing wildly as his eye roll back. 

"Daddy!" Chip's voice is filled with fear 
as he clutches his father's arm tighter. 
Plankton's tremors only worsen, his 
body convulsing in a way that's both 
frightening and heartbreaking.

Karen's realizes what's happening. 
"Chip, let go!" she cries.
"Dad?" Chip whispers, his voice 
trembling with fear.

Plankton's shaking becomes more 
intense, his antennae flailing as if trying 
to escape the confines of his own body. 
His mouth opens in a silent scream.

Karen's knows this isn't a ‘seizure’ but 
something else entirely—a meltdown, a 
result of the overwhelming emotions 
he's been trying to hold in. She rushes 
to his side with worry.

"Chip, let go of him," she says, her voice 
urgent. Plankton's shaking becomes 
more intense, his antennae thrashing 
about like seaweed in a storm.

Karen quickly moves closer, her own 
hands gentle as she pries Chip's tight 
grip from Plankton's arm. "Chip, sweetie, 
let Daddy breathe," she says, her voice 
firm yet filled with empathy.

"What's wrong with him?" he stammers, 
voice trembling.

Karen's full of sadness as she 
takes Chip into her arms, gently peeling 
him away from Plankton's convulsing 
form. "It's ok, baby," she murmurs, her 
voice a lifeline in the chaos. "Daddy's 
just having a hard time right now."

Her movements are swift and sure as 
she guides Chip away from the couch, 
her gaze never leaving Plankton. His 
body is still racked with tremors, his 
antennae a wild mess of emotions. She 
knows that touch can be overwhelming 
for Plankton in moments like these, so 
she keeps her distance, giving him the 
space he needs.

"Why is he doing that?" Chip 
whispers, his voice shaky with fear. 
Karen's heart aches as she holds him 
close, trying to shield him from the 
harshness of the world.

"It's called a meltdown, sweetie," she 
explains gently, her voice a soothing 
balm. "Sometimes, when some 
neurodivergent people get really upset 
or overwhelmed, their bodies may react like 
this."

Karen's on Plankton, who's still 
trembling on the couch, his antennae a 
blur of distress. She knows he needs 
space, yet her instinct is to comfort him. 
With Chip in her arms, she keeps a safe 
distance, speaking softly so as not to 
add to the sensory overload.

"Plankton," she says, her voice steady 
despite the turmoil in her heart. "It's 
ok. Just breathe."

Plankton's body continues to spasm, his 
antennae a frantic tapestry of emotions. 
Karen's filled with a fierce determination 
as she carefully approaches him, her 
movements slow and calculated to avoid 
triggering more distress.

"Plankton," she whispers, her voice a 
gentle lullaby amidst the chaos. "I'm 
here."

Slowly, his antennae begin to still, his 
body calming as he registers her 
presence. "It's ok," she repeats. 
With trembling hands, she reaches out 
to stroke his back, the barest touch. 
Plankton's body relaxes slightly, his 
breaths coming in deep, shaky gasps.

"Just breathe," she whispers again, her 
hand moving in a soothing rhythm. "It's 
ok, you're ok."

Plankton's antennae slow their erratic 
dance, his body following suit. The 
tremors subside, leaving him drained 
and panting.

"Daddy?" Chip whispers, peering over Karen's shoulder.

Karen nods, still on Plankton. "He's ok 
now," she says softly. "It's just his brain's 
way of letting out all the big feelings."

Chip watches, his grip on Karen 
tightening. "Is he going to be ok?" he 
asks, his voice small.

Karen nods, her eyes never leaving 
Plankton. "Yes," she murmurs. "Just give 
him a moment."

The room is silent except for Plankton's 
uneven breathing. The colors from the 
TV flicker across their faces, painting 
them in a strange, unsettling light. Karen 
can feel Chip's little heart beating 
against hers, and she knows he's 
scared.

"It's ok," she whispers again, her voice a 
beacon of calm in the storm. "Daddy just 
needs some
time."

Plankton's antennae droop, his body 
finally still. His eye meets hers, a silent 
apology in the depths of his gaze. Karen 
nods, her hand still on his back, offering 
assurance without words.

"Chip," she says, her voice still low, "can 
you go to your room for a bit?"

He nods, eyes still glued to his 
father, but he doesn't protest. With a 
heavy heart, Karen watches her son 
disappear down the corridor, the door 
clicking shut behind him.

Turning her full attention to Plankton, 
she sits down beside him, her hand 
resting lightly on his back. His breathing 
is still ragged, his antennae barely 
moving.

"I'm sorry," Plankton whispers, his voice 
hoarse.

Karen nods with 
understanding. "We'll talk to him," she 
says gently. "But first, let's make sure 
you're ok."

Plankton's body still 
trembling slightly. Karen keeps her hand 
on his back, her touch a silent promise 
that she's there for him.

Karen's hand moves in gentle circles, 
trying to soothe him. "You don't have to 
apologize," she says firmly. "You are 
who you are, and we love you for it."

Plankton's antennae twitch, and he 
looks up at her, his single eye brimming 
with unshed tears. "But I don't know how 
to be a good dad like this," he chokes 
out.

Karen's heart breaks at his words, but 
she keeps her voice steady. "You're 
already a great dad, Plankton," she 
says. "You just need to find a way to 
show Chip that."

He looks at her, hope and doubt warring 
in his expression. "How?" he asks, his 
voice barely a whisper.

Karen takes a deep breath, gathering 
her thoughts. "By teaching him," she 
says gently. "By letting him in, just like 
you're letting us in now."

Plankton's antennae droop, and he 
nods. "I know," he says, his voice filled 
with regret. "But it's hard. I don't want 
him to see me like this."

Karen squeezes his hand. "He already 
does," she says gently. "And he loves 
you anyway."

new chip off the old talks neurodivergentcore vii

CHIP AND FAIL xiv
(Autistic author)

Karen opened the 
door. Plankton's sobs filled
the room. She
approached him slowly, 
her movements careful not
to startle him.

"Plankton?" she whispered,
her voice gentle. He was curled
up on the bed, his antennae
shaking with each gasp.

His single eye 
looked up at her.
"I'm sorry," he 
choked out.

Karen sat
beside him, her hand 
on his back in a comforting
motion. "You have nothing to
apologize for," she 
murmured, her voice soothing.
"It's Chip who needs to
understand."

Plankton's antennae stopped
shaking, his eye focusing on
her. "Why doesn't he get it?"
he whispered.
"Why can't he see..."

"Chip loves you," she said.
"But he's never had to deal with
this before. He's trying to
understand."

Plankton's antennae quivered.
He knew she was right, but the
pain of his son's ignorance...

The door creaked open, and Chip's
face appeared, his eyes red and
swollen. "Dad," he began. "Can we talk?"

Plankton felt a wave of anger
crash over him. How could he
forgive his son for not
understanding? For not seeing
the struggle he faced every
single day? "What
do you want, Chip?" he snapped.

Chip took a tentative step into
the room, his screen on Karen.
"I just...I didn't know," he
mumbled. "I'm sorry."

Plankton's antennae shot up. "How
could you not know?" he snarled.
"How could you be so ignorant?"

Chip took a step back. "I didn't mean to
make it worse," he said, his voice
shaking. "I just wanted to be
close to you Dad, and have you..."

Plankton's antennae trembled with
frustration. "You think I don't
want that?" he spat. "You think I enjoy
being like this?"

Chip's eyes widened. "No, Dad," he
said quickly. "I just want to help
you show..."

But Plankton was drowning in
anger. "You think you can help?"
he sneered. "You think your
naive attempts at bonding
can fix what's broken?"

Chip felt the sting of his father's
words. "Dad, I didn't mean to..."

But Plankton's antennae remained
still. "Get out," he said, his voice
cold. "Just leave me alone."

Chip's eyes filled with tears. He had
never heard such hostility from his
father. "Dad," he pleaded. "I'm
trying..."

"I WON'T HAVE YOU PITY ME!
I've lived with this my whole life, 
and you think you can just waltz 
in and 'help'? WELL, YOU CAN'T!"
Plankton hissed. Karen can tell
he's getting overwhelmed.

With a gentle but firm tone,
Karen stepped between Chip and
Plankton. "Both of you, stop,"
she said. "This isn't helping."
Her eyes met Chip's and then Plankton's.

"Chip, your father is not mad at
you, he's just overwhelmed," Karen
explained.
"And Plankton, your son is just trying
to understand."

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II xiv

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY vii
(Autistic author)

"We're just going to do what you want. How about a trivia game?"

Plankton's antennae perked up slightly at the mention of 
a game, his love for competition never truly forgotten. 
"Trivia," he echoed, his voice still monotone but with a 
hint of interest.

"Yes, trivia," Karen said, stroking his back gently. "You can 
show us all how much you know."

Plankton looked up at Patrick.

"I'm sorry," Patrick said, voice sincere 
for once. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

Plankton sniffled, his antennae twitching slightly. "Patrick 
mean," he murmured, his voice monotone yet filled with hurt.

"I know, buddy," Sponge Bob said, placing a comforting hand 
on his shoulder. "But he didn't know. Sometimes, Patrick doesn't 
think before he speaks."

Patrick nodded, his eyes downcast. "I guess I'm not the best 
at understanding things," he mumbled.

Sponge Bob leaned closer to Plankton. "Why don't we start our 
game now?" he suggested, his voice gentle. "We can play a 
game about random trivia. Does that sound okay?"

Plankton nodded slowly, antennae still drooping. "Okay," he murmurs.

They around the table, the jellyfish book open to a random page. 
Plankton's gaze remained fixed on it, his mind racing with facts 
and figures. Karen took a deep breath, her tentacles still tense 
from the confrontation with Patrick. "Alright, let's start with 
something easy," she suggested. "What's the scientific name 
for jellyfish?"

Plankton's antennae shot up, his eye lighting up with excitement. 
"Jellyfish scientific name," he recited, "Cnidaria."

"Cnidaria?" Sponge Bob repeated, his eyebrows shooting up. "That's 
right, Plankton!"

Patrick looked at the book, then at Plankton, his eyes wide. "How do you 
know all this stuff?"

Plankton's antennae wiggled slightly. "Plankton read book," he said, his 
voice monotone but with a hint of pride.

"Patrick, I'll ask you a question," Sponge Bob said, his smile genuine.

Patrick nodded, eager to make amends. "Shoot."

Sponge Bob's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Okay, Patrick," he said, "What's 
the square root of 120?"

Patrick's eyes widened, his brain scrambling. He took a deep breath and 
announced, "It's 12?"

"No, Patrick," Plankton said, his voice a monotone but with a hint of 
amusement. "It's 10.190565... but Plankton rounds to 10."

Patrick's face fell as he realized he'd been outsmarted. "Oh," he murmured. 
"Guess I should've studied more at boating school."

"It's okay, Patrick," Karen said.

Sponge Bob's eyes twinkled with encouragement. "Let's keep 
playing, Plankton," he said. "You're doing great."

Plankton nodded, his antennae slightly less droopy.

"Your turn, Plankton," Sponge Bob said. "What's something interesting 
about yourself?"

Plankton paused, his antennae twitching as he searched for words. 
"Interesting?" he echoed.

Sponge Bob nodded encouragingly. "Yes, something that makes you 
special or unique. Tell us all about Plankton."

Plankton's antennae quivered as he thought. "Plankton... good at 
science," he said finally, his monotone voice revealing his pride. 
"Especially jellyfish."

"That's fantastic, Plankton!" Karen exclaimed.

Patrick nodded in agreement. "Yeah, buddy," he said, his voice still 
subdued. "You're a real jellyfish genius."

Plankton's antennae twitched with a hint of satisfaction. "Jellyfish 
have 24 eyes," he said, his voice monotone yet filled with a newfound 
confidence. "But no brain."

"What?" Patrick's eyes widened. "How can they see without a brain?"

Plankton's antennae quivered with excitement as he began to elaborate. 
"Jellyfish have simple nervous system," he said, his voice still flat but 
gaining momentum. "Eyes detect light, not images. Help them avoid 
predators and find food."

Sponge Bob's eyes grew wide with amazement. "Wow
Plankton," he said. "That's so cool!"

"Plankton born cycloptic one eye."

Patrick's jaw dropped as he stared at Plankton. "That's... really cool," he 
murmured, his mind racing to keep up.

Sponge Bob nodded eagerly. "Yeah, Plankton," he said, his voice 
filled with excitement. "Tell us more!"

Plankton's antennae perked up at the genuine interest from his 
friends. "Plankton own Chum Bucket," he said, his voice monotone 
but proud. "Serve chum, best food in Bikini Bottom."

Patrick's eyes lit up. "You're like a chef, Plankton! That's so cool!"

But Plankton's gaze remained on the jellyfish book, his thoughts 
drifting. "Mr. Krabs," he murmured, his voice monotone yet filled 
with a hint of anger. "Has Krabby Patties.."

Karen and Sponge Bob exchanged a glance, knowing the mention of Mr. Krabs.
"Plankton," Karen began cautiously, "we don't have to talk about Krabby Patties 
if you don't want to."
But Plankton's antennae shot up, his voice taking on a new, almost manic energy. 
"No, no," he murmured, his monotone cracking. "Mr. Krabs. Krabby Patties. 
Plankton's purpose."
Sponge Bob's smile faltered, the mention of Krabby Patties bringing back 
memories of their long-standing rivalry. "Plankton," he said gently, "you don't 
have to steal Krabby Patties anymore. You have jellyfish now."
But Plankton's antennae quivered with a strange intensity. "Krabs," he murmured, 
his monotone voice filled with a newfound urgency. "Gave Plankton brain damage. 
Accident," Plankton murmured, his voice low. "Mr. Krabs... Krabby Patty... 
Plankton's brain... changed."

Sponge Bob's smile faded, his heart sinking as he realized 
the gravity of the situation. "Plankton," he said, his voice filled sadness.
But Plankton didn't seem to hear him, lost in his own thoughts. "Plankton 
not same," he murmured. "But jellyfish... jellyfish make Plankton happy."

Karen's eyes filled with understanding. "It's ok, Plankton," she said, her voice 
soothing. "You can still have a purpose. Maybe not with Krabby Patties, but 
with jellyfish."

Plankton's antennae quivered as he repeated her words back to her. "Purpose 
with jellyfish," he murmured.

"Yes, Plankton," Karen said, her tentacles stroking his back gently. "Your purpose 
can be whatever makes you happy."

"Happy," Plankton echoed, his antennae twitching as he repeated her word.

"Yes, happy," Karen said, her voice soothing. "We're here to support you, Plankton."



"Support Plankton," he echoed, his antennae drooping slightly. "But 
Krabs... Plankton's enemy."

Karen's eyes searched Plankton's, her own filled with a gentle warmth. 
"Mr. Krabs doesn't have to be your enemy anymore," she said, her tone 
soothing. "You can find joy in other things."

"Other things," Plankton echoed, his antennae still.

"Yes," Karen said, her tentacles waving gently. "Like jellyfish. You can focus 
on learning about them and sharing your knowledge with others."

"Share knowledge," Plankton repeated, his antennae quivering 
with curiosity.

"Exactly," Karen said, her tentacles gesturing encouragingly. "You can 
start a jellyfish club, remember?"

Plankton's antennae twitched as he processed her words. "Jellyfish 
club," he murmured.

"Yeah, buddy," Sponge Bob said, his voice filled with excitement. "We can all join 
and learn together!"

Plankton's antennae perked up slightly, and a glimmer of hope entered his eye. 
"Club," he murmured, his voice monotone but with a hint of excitement. 

new a life of diversity gamefic vii

Agenesia is an incomplete and imperfect development of an organ or part and aplasia is absence of an organ or part.

Acrania is absence of most or all of the bones of the cranium.
Amelia is absence of one or more limbs.
Anencephalia is absence of the brain.
Hypocephalia is incomplete development of the brain.
Hemicrania is absence of half of the head.
Exencephalia is defective skull with brain exposed or extruded. If the protruding brain contains a ventricle which is filled with excessive amount of fluid, the malformation is a hydrencephalocele.
Arhinencephalia is absence or rudimentary development of the olfactory lobe with corresponding lack of development of the external olfactory organs.
Agnathia is absence of the lower jaw.
Anophthalmia is absence of one or both eyes.
Abrachia is absence of the forelimbs.
Abrachiocephalia is absence of forelimbs and head.
Adactylia is absence of digits.

. Excess of Development

1. Congenital hypertrophy

Hemi hypertrophy (partial)
2. Increase in the number of a part

Polyotia (ears)
Polyodontia(teeth)
Polymelia (limbs)
Polydactylia(digits)
Polymastia (mammary gland)
Polythelia(teats)

Twins Entirely Separate
Although separate, these twins are in a single chorion. One twin as a rule is well developed; the other is malformed (acardius). In the malformed foetus there is arrested development of the heart, lungs, and trunk. Such monsters may lack a head (acephalus), limbs and other recognizable features (amorphous), or the trunk (acormus).
Twins United
These twins are more or less completely united and are of symmetrical development.
TWINS UNITED

A. Anterior Twinning: The anterior part of the individual is double, the posterior single.

Pygopagus – united in the pelvic region with the bodies side by side.
Ischiopagus – united in the pelvic region with the bodies at an obtuse (not pointed) angle.
Dicephalus – two separate heads; doubling may also affect the neck, thorax and trunk.
Diproosopus – doubling in the cephalic region without complete separation of heads; only the face doubled.
B. Posterior Twinning: The posterior part is double, the anterior single.

Craniopagus – brains usually separated; bodies as a rule at an acute angle.
Cephalothoracopagus – union of head and thorax.
Dipygus – doubling of posterior extremities and posterior part of body.
C. Twinning Almost Complete: Duplication of the whole trunk or the anterior or posterior extremities with parallel, ventral arrangement of the foetuses. The pair is joined in the region of the thorax, and also often in the abdominal region.

Thoracopagus – united only by the thorax.
Prosopothoracopagus – besides the union the thorax the abdomen, the head and neck are united.
Rachipagus – thorax and lumbar portion of the spinal column united.

new listcore bodycore anomalies

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

CHIP AND FAIL xi
(Autistic author)

Karen made chum for dinner and
they all sat at the table.

"Thanks," Plankton says to Karen
as she hands him his plate.
She sits down with her own
plate after serving Chip his.

"Hi, Dad," Chip said tentatively, 
his voice a whisper in the 
stillness of the room.

Plankton's antennae twitched, but
his eye remained fixed on his
plate. The silence was a wall
between them, thick as seaweed and
just as impenetrable. Chip's heart
felt like it was sinking into his
stomach, the weight of his father's
silence heavier than any words
could have been.

Karen's screen darted between them,
a silent plea for peace. She knew
this was Plankton's way of dealing
with his overwhelm, but it was
torture for Chip, who craved
understanding and connection.

"So, how's your friends?" Karen
asks Chip.

Chip shrugs, his screen
darting to Plankton, who remains
silent, his antennae still. "They're
okay," he says, his voice
lacking its usual enthusiasm.

Karen sighs internally, the
tension at the dinner table
a heavy fog that seemed to
smother their usual banter. 

"Karen, can you pass the napkins?"
Plankton says. "Sure," she says
as she puts them in the middle.

"Dad, how do you feel about
the food?"

Plankton's antennae twitched but
his gaze remained on his plate,
his mouth a tight line. The silence
was a thick stew that no one knew
how to digest. Chip's eyes were
filled with hope, searching for
any sign of his father's usual
playfulness, but all he found
was a wall of quiet.

Chip's voice was a feeble
ripple in the vast ocean of their
silence. "Dad, can I get you a drink?"
he offered.

Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly, but he remained silent,
his eye never leaving his plate.
The air was thick with tension, like
seawater saturated with the
weight of their unspoken words.

Chip churned with
anxiety, each bite of chum a
reminder of the gap that had
suddenly widened between him and
his father. 

"Please, Dad," he murmured, his
voice barely audible above the
clink of their forks. Plankton's
antennas remained still, his eye
focused on the food before him.

Karen's heart was a tight knot in
her chest, her eyes darting
between her husband and son.
The silence was a living creature,
a Kraken of tension coiled around
them, squeezing the joy from the
room. She took a deep breath,
forcing a smile. "So, Chip, tell us
about your week," she said, her
voice too bright, too forced.

Chip took a tentative bite of his
chum, his eyes on Plankton's
unmoving antennae. "Well, I had a
good time at the carnival," he
began, his voice a sad echo of
his usual excitement. "I won
at the ring toss."

Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly, but he said nothing, his
silence a thick, unspoken wall. Chip
felt like a deflated balloon,
each of his words a futile attempt
to pierce the silence.

"And I met a new friend," Chip
continued, his voice a feeble thread
trying to weave through the
stillness. "She's a dolphin. She
was really cute." 

Plankton's antennae twitched again,
just a little, but it was enough to
keep Chip's hope afloat. 

Chip's voice grew stronger,
his words a lifeline thrown into
the turbulent sea of silence.
"Her name's Daisy," he said, a
tiny smile tugging. "We
played in the bubbles."

But Plankton's antennae remained
still, his eye on his plate. It
was as if Chip's words were bouncing
off an invisible shield, unable to
penetrate the fortress of his father's
mind. Chip's smile faltered, his screen
filling with unshed tears. He
wanted so badly to share his joy
with Plankton, but the wall of
silence was too high, too thick.

He took a deep breath, his
hands clenching around his fork.
"Dad, I know you're mad at me,"
he said, his voice trembling. "But I
just want to understand."

Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly, but he said nothing, his
face a mask of indifference.

The silence grew heavier
with each passing moment,
weighing down on Chip like an
oversized sponge soaked in
regret. He knew he had to
try again, to bridge the gap.

"Dad," he began, his voice
shaky but determined. "I know
I messed up today, but I want to
make it right." He took a deep
breath, willing the words to come.
"Can you tell me more about
your...about what happened to
you?" His voice was a tiny
bubble of hope rising in the
deep sea of their dinner.

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his eye flickering up to meet
Chip's for a brief moment before
dropping back to his plate. The
silence stretched on like a tight
rubber band, threatening to snap.

Karen's screen a tempest of
concern, torn between her love
for her husband and her
desire to help her son. She knew
Plankton needed his space, but
seeing the pain in Chip's screen was
like watching a piece of coral
being slowly eroded by the sea.

Chip's words hung in the air,
like a message in a bottle lost
at sea. Plankton's silence was a
reef that Chip's words couldn't
navigate around. He took a
deep breath, his heart a conch shell
echoing with hope. "Dad, I know
it's hard for you," he tried again,
his voice a gentle wave. "But if
you don't tell me, how can I
understand?"

The room was a pressure
cooker of unspoken emotion,
the tension rising with each
passing second. Karen's screen
pleaded with Plankton, willing him
to respond. But he remained
still, his antennae unmoving, his
eye a storm cloud over their meal.

Chip's heart felt like it was
being crushed in a vice, his words
falling on deaf antennae. "Dad,
please," he whispered, his voice
desperate. "I just want to help."

But Plankton's antennae remained
motionless, his eye averted.
The silence was a deep-sea trench
between them, vast and unbridgeable.
Chip's shoulders slumped, his hope
leaking away like water through
a sieve. He took another bite of
his chum, the taste of it suddenly
bitter on his tongue.

The clock on the wall ticked
loudly, each second a tiny hammer
on the anvil of his heart. Chip
forced a swallow, his throat tight
with emotion. "Dad," he said again,
his voice a tiny ripple in the vast
ocean of quiet. "I'm sorry." The room
held its breath, waiting for a
response, but none came. The
silence was a thick kelp that
choked, suffocating any
attempt at conversation.

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II xi

CATCH IN MY CHIP xi
(Autistic author)

Karen leans in closer to
Plankton, her voice a gentle
whisper. "It's okay," she says,
her eyes filled with warmth.
"You're okay." Plankton's breaths
are shallow, his chest rising
and falling with effort as he
shakes.

The room is a cocoon of
quiet, the outside world
muted by the thick walls
of their sanctuary. Karen's
hand is a constant, her
touch a reminder that he's
not alone. Plankton's gaze
flits to Chip, the question in
his eye unspoken.

"Chip," Karen says, her voice
a balm to Plankton's raw
nerves. "Your dad is in need
of some quiet time, okay?"
Her words are a gentle nudge,
guiding them through the
delicate dance of recovery.

Chip nods, his eyes never
leaving Plankton's face. "I
understand," he murmurs, though
his heart feels like it's been
tied in knots. He swallows
his questions, his fear for
his dad a lump in his throat.

Plankton's antennas twitch
slightly, his breathing
easing a fraction. He nods, the
gesture almost imperceptible. "Thank
you," he whispers, his voice
raspy with exhaustion. The
relief in his eye is palpable.

Chip watches, his own
emotions a tapestry of confusion
and concern. He wants to
reach out, to hold his dad close,
but he knows it's not the time.
Instead, he squeezes Karen's hand,
his silent promise to be
patient and understanding.

Plankton's eye closes, his body
slowly relaxing into the pillow.
The ringing in his ears
fades, the world coming back
into focus like a camera
lens slowly adjusting to the light.
The warmth of Karen's hand
on his forehead is a comfort,
his anchor in the sea of
sensation.

Her voice is a gentle lullaby,
guiding him back to shore.
"You're okay," she repeats,
each word a wave lapping
against the shore of his mind.
The room stops spinning, the
colors coalescing into
distinct shapes.

Plankton's gaze darts around
the room, seeking solace.
His eye lands on a spot on the
wall, a patch of
unblemished white. He focuses
on it, his breaths coming
slower, deeper. It's a sanctuary,
a place of peace amidst
the chaos. The spot becomes
his beacon, the world around
it a blurry periphery.

Karen's hand on his forehead
is cool, a balm to his racing
thoughts. "Look at the spot,"
she whispers, her voice a
soothing melody. "Just the
spot." He nods, his eye
locking onto the white, his
breaths syncing with hers.

The spot is a lifeline in the
storm, a beacon of calm in
his sensory chaos. Plankton
stares at it, willing the
world to recede. The colors
around it blur, the sounds
of the room dull to a
whisper. It's just him and
the spot, a silent pact
between them to conquer
the tempest.

Karen's voice is a gentle
wave, lapping at the edges
of his mind. "When you're
ready, take a deep breath.
In, out. Slowly." She
guides him through the
exercise, her tone soothing.
Plankton tries to focus,
his body responding to the
familiar rhythm.

The spot on the wall
becomes clearer, the edges
sharper. The world around it
softens, the colors bleeding
back into the fabric of the
room. His breathing slows,
his chest rising and falling
in time with Karen's gentle
prompts. The spot is his
sanctuary, a bastion of
calm in the overwhelming
storm.

But then, it starts. The
tic, a twitch of his antenna.
A reminder that his mind
is not entirely his own,
his body a marionette to the
whims of his neurodiversity.
Plankton's antennas begin to
still, his body gradually
relinquishing the tension
that had held it hostage. The
tic in his left antenna, a
quick spasm that had
become more frequent.

Karen's eyes don't leave his
face, her gaze a silent
support. She knows the
dance of his tics all too
well, a choreography
that they've lived with
for years. She squeezes his
hand, her touch a silent
promise to stand by him
through the storm. It's
his body's way of releasing
the tension that builds
up like pressure in a volcano.
The tic is a tide, rising
and falling, unpredictable and
uncontrollable.

Plankton's head jerks to
the side, the sudden
movement a stark contrast
to the stillness of the
room. Chip's eyes go wide
with concern.

"It's okay," Karen murmurs,
squeezing Plankton's hand. "It's
just your body. It's okay."
Her voice is a lullaby, a gentle
reminder that he's not alone.
The tic subsides, his
antennas returning to their
usual state.

Chip's eyes dart from his
dad to his mom, his mind
whirring with questions. "What
was that?" he asks, his voice
quiet, afraid to disturb the
fragile peace.

Karen's hand moves to
Plankton's antenna, her thumb
tracing the line of his twitch.
"It's just his body's way
of dealing with the
overstimulation," she
explains, her voice calm
but tinged with sadness. "It's
a tic, Chip. It's part of
his autism."

Chip nods, his eyes wide
with understanding. "Will
he be okay?" he asks, his
voice small in the face of his
father's struggle.

Karen's grip on Plankton's
hand tightens, her voice a
steady stream of comfort. "Yes,
he will," she says with
confidence. "This happens
sometimes. We just need to be
patient and give him time."

Plankton's antennas still
slightly, the tremor a
reminder of the storm
that had passed through
his mind. His breaths come
more evenly now, the spot on
the wall his silent companion
as he finds his way back
to the world.

Chip's eyes are full of
questions, his heart heavy with
concern. He watches as his
dad's body relaxes, the tension
easing like a retreating tide.
"I'll get him some water,"
Karen says, her voice a
whisper. She squeezes Plankton's
hand once more before rising,
leaving the two of them
alone in the quiet.

Plankton's eye meets Chip's,
his gaze apologetic.

Chip swallows his fear.

"Daddy?" he whispers, his
voice cracking. Plankton's
eye flutters open, the panic
gone, replaced by a
fatigue that seems to
weigh down his very soul.

"I'm okay," he manages,
his voice a rasp. "Just tired."

Chip nods, his hand
tentatively reaching out to
touch his dad's arm. The
contact is tentative, a
question and a comfort all
in one. Plankton's antennas
twitch again, but this time
it's with the beginnings of
a smile. "Thanks, buddy," he
says, his voice hoarse.

The room is a cocoon of
silence, the air thick with
unspoken words. Plankton
swallows hard, the weight
of his own emotions pressing
down on his chest like a
leaden blanket. "I'm sorry," he
whispers, his gaze never
leaving Chip's.

Chip's eyes are pools of
concern, the question in his
eyes unspoken but potent.
"For what?" he asks, his
voice barely above a whisper.

Plankton's antennas droop
slightly, his eye reflecting the
shame he feels. "For scaring
you," he says, his voice
hoarse. "For not being
able to control it."

Chip's hand tightens around
his dad's arm, his eyes
brimming with tears he's too
proud to shed. "It's okay,
Daddy," he says, the words a
soft whisper. "You don't have
to be sorry."

Plankton's smile is weak,
his antennas still. "I know," he
replies, his voice a
whisper. "But it's hard not
to be." He swallows, his
throat dry from the battle
his body has just endured.

Karen returns with a
glass of water, her steps
silent on the soft carpet. She
hands it to Plankton, who
gratefully takes a sip, the
cool liquid soothing his
parched throat. The tension in
the room is a palpable
entity, a third person in
their silent conversation.

"What happened?" Chip asks,
his voice small, the question
a balloon of curiosity
floating in the heavy air.

"It's just part of who
I am," Plankton says, his
voice still hoarse from his
episode. He takes another
sip of water, the coldness
of it a stark contrast to
his fevered skin. "My
autism, it makes my brain
work differently."

Chip's hand is still on
his arm, a silent
offer of comfort. "But
you're okay now," he
says, his voice hopeful.
Plankton nods, the
motion almost imperceptible.

"Thanks to Mom," he murmurs, his
eye swiveling to Karen, who
smiles at him with a mix of
relief and love. "She's the
reason I made it through."

Chip looks at Karen with a newfound
respect, his young mind trying to
comprehend the gravity of what he's
just witnessed. "You're both
strong," he says, his voice
steady, the fear momentarily
pushed aside by admiration.

Karen's smile is a soft glow,
the pride in her eyes unmistakable.
"We all have our moments," she
says, her hand resting on
Plankton's shoulder. "It's
how we face them that makes
us who we are." She glances
at the clock, the ticking a
reminder of the time they've lost
to the sensory storm. "Why don't
you go play for a bit, Chip?
Your dad needs some rest, and I
think we could all use a
moment to process."

Chip nods, his eyes
still filled with unspoken
questions. But he trusts
his mom, and he can see the
exhaustion etched into
Plankton's face. He slides off
the bed, his feet silent on
the floor. With one last look
at his dad, he heads for the
door, the weight of the
moment heavy on his
shoulders.

Karen watches him go,
her heart aching for the
fear he must be feeling.
But she knows that with
time and patience, he'll
understand. He'll grow to
see his dad not as a
mystery to be solved, but as
a person to be loved and
supported, just like anyone
else.

new catch in my chip Chip Plankton II xi

GREAT CHIP xi
(Autistic author)

After a moment, she turned and walked
towards the workshop door, her steps slow
and deliberate. She paused, her hand
on the doorknob, looking back at Chip with a
mixture of pain and resolve. "I'll check
on your father," she said, her voice a whisper.
"You... you clean up here."

Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving
his mother's. He knew she was hurting too,
but she was putting on a brave face for him.
As she disappeared into the workshop,
his heart felt like it was in a vice. He'd never
seen his parents like this before.

The kitchen was a mess of shattered
dishes and splattered jelly, a stark
contrast to the usually pristine space.
He took a deep breath and began to
collect the broken pieces, his mind racing
with thoughts of his father's pain.

Karen's footsteps were quiet
as she approached the workshop,
the door slightly ajar. She could
hear Plankton's muffled sobs from
inside, his tiny body hunched
over his workbench. She took a
deep breath, steeling herself for
what she might find.

The room was a whirlwind of
half-finished inventions, wires
and gadgets scattered about.
Her heart broke at the sight of her
husband, the usually stoic and
resourceful Plankton, reduced to a
tiny, shaking figure, his antennae
drooped like the wilted leaves of
a forgotten houseplant.

"Plankton?" Karen's voice was a soft
whisper, cutting through the quiet.
He didn't look up, his sobs the
only sound in the cluttered room.
Slowly, she approached, her eyes
taking in the chaos around them.
"Honey," she began, her voice
trembling. "I know you're upset, but..."

Plankton's sobs grew louder,
his body shaking with the force of
his emotions. Karen reached out,
her hand hovering over his shoulder,
uncertain whether to touch him.

Finally, she decided that in this moment,
space was what he needed most. She
stood there, a silent sentinel, her presence
a gentle reminder that she was there
for him. "Plankton," she said softly,
her voice a balm in the storm of his
rage. "Can I get you anything?"

Plankton's sobs grew quieter,
his tiny frame heaving with the
weight of his emotions. "No,"
he said, his voice muffled.

Karen took a step closer,
her hand still hovering. "Do you
want me to stay?" she asked, her
tone gentle.

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his head nodding slightly. It was the
barest of movements, but it spoke
volumes to Karen. She stepped
forward, wrapping her arms around
his shoulders, careful not to press
too hard. He stiffened at first, but
then, ever so slightly, leaned into her.

Her embrace was gentle, her touch
like a soft breeze, offering comfort without
smothering his pain. "I always love you."

The words hung in the air,
their quiet strength a stark contrast
to the chaos of the kitchen. Plankton
felt his body begin to relax, his sobs
easing as Karen's warmth seeped in.

He took a deep, shuddering breath,
his antennae drooping. "I'm sorry,"
he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.
"I didn't mean to... I don't know..."

Karen's grip tightened, her hand
sliding up to cradle his head. "It's okay,"
she soothed, her voice a gentle lullaby.

Plankton's antennae twitched
nervously against her, but he didn't pull away.
He knew she was there for him, even when
his own mind was a tempest of confusion.

"You don't have to apologize," Karen
whispered.

Her words were a balm to Plankton's
raw nerves, and he leaned into her
embrace. She knew he was
sensitive post-episode, his emotions
like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap.
Her heart ached for him, for the fear
and frustration he felt in those moments.

Karen's eyes scanned the room,
noticing the chaos of Plankton's
workshop, his mind's refuge.
Usually, the disarray was organized,
each gear and wire in its place. Now,
it was as though a tornado had swept
through, leaving a trail of half-finished
inventions in its wake.

Plankton's sobs grew quieter, his
body still tense under her touch.
"I just... I don't want you to look
at me and see something broken
and unlovable.."

Karen's eyes filled with tears.
"You are you, and that is all 
I've ever loved."

The words hung in the air,
a gentle rebuttal to the harshness
of the earlier scene. Plankton's
sobs grew quieter, his breathing
evening out. Chip hovered at the
entrance, his heart a tumultuous
sea of regret and fear. He'd hurt
his father, and he didn't know
how to fix it.

He took a tentative step into
the workshop, his eyes scanning
the room. The mess was a stark
reminder of the turmoil Plankton
was feeling, and it only served
to amplify Chip's own guilt.
He watched his mother's careful
movements, her gentle touch,
and he desperately wanted to do
the same.

new great chip familycore xi

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new textcore listcore ai

A list of weird phobias and meanings includes:

Agyrophobia – phobia of crossing roads
Alourophobia - phobia of reading aloud
Anthophobia – phobia of flowers
Balenephobia - phobia of pins and needles
Barophobia - phobia of gravity
Bibliophobia - phobia of books
Bovinophobia - phobia /dislike of cattle
Carnophobia - phobia of meat
Cathisophobia - phobia of sitting
Cetaphobia - phobia /dislike of whales
Ebulliophobia - phobia of bubbles
Heliophobia – phobia of sunlight
Hylophobia - phobia of trees, forests or wood
Ichthyophobia – phobia /dislike of fish
Papyrophobia - phobia of paper
Porphyrophobia - phobia of the color purple
Pteridophobia - phobia of ferns
Sichuaphobia - phobia of Chinese food
Tachophobia - phobia of speed

new listcore scarycore phobia's

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new mathcore schoolcore studycore listcore textcore superscript

https://namecombinertool.com/name-combiner-with-three-names/

new namecore treescore friendscore listcore name combiner

https://lowermerionhistory.org/home/burial-records/merion-meeting-of-the-religious-society-of-friends-quakers-2/merion-meeting-burial-list/

new burialcore listcore merion meeting burial list

new listcore randomcore 2200

Acrophobia: The fear of heights
Aerophobia: The fear of flying
Arachnophobia: The fear of spiders
Astraphobia: The fear of lightning and thunder
Autophobia: The fear of being alone
Claustrophobia: The fear of confined or crowded spaces
Hemophobia: The fear of blood
Hydrophobia: The fear of water
Ophidiophobia: The fear of snakes
Zoophobia: The fear of animals
mysophobia (the fear of germs), trypanophobia (the fear of injections), and necrophobia (the fear of death)
Some rare phobias include:

Anthrophobia: The fear of flowers
Arithmophobia: The fear of numbers
Barophobia: The fear of gravity
Chronomentrophobia: The fear of clocks
Genuphobia: The fear of knees
Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia: Fear of the number 666
Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia: Fear of long words
Onomatophobia: The fear of names
Phobophobia: The fear of phobias
Nephophobia: The fear of clouds

new listcore scarycore phobia's

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new studycore listcore mathcore

We only have one shot at life, make it count. Here are some bible verses about loving your enemies. Follow the word of god :) * Matthew 5:44: "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you"  || * Luke 6:27-28: "But I say to you: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you || Please stop this drama, it is not of god. Drink water, eat food, prioritize your mental health, and have a great day everyone ✝️🙏🏻❤️

new akemi akemi avatar ranking ari lottie xi blair !loving 4_Lauren lauren hazel rion

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₂₁₀₀

new mathcore schoolcore studycore listcore textcore subscript

✍️ Writing Hand
💅 Nail Polish
🤳 Selfie
💪
Flexed Biceps
🦾
Mechanical Arm
🦿
Mechanical Leg
🦵 Leg
🦶 Foot
👂 Ear
🦻
Ear With Hearing Aid
👃 Nose
🧠 Brain
🫀
Anatomical Heart
🫁 Lungs
🦷 Tooth
🦴 Bone
👀 Eyes
👁️ Eye
👅 Tongue
👄 Mouth
🫦
Biting Lip
💆
Person Getting Massage
💇
Person Getting Haircut
🚶
Person Walking
🧍
Person Standing
🧎
Person Kneeling

new emojicore listcore peoplecore

😷
Face With Medical Mask
🤒
Face With Thermometer
🤕
Face With Head-Bandage
🤢
Nauseated Face
🤮
Face Vomiting
🤧
Sneezing Face
🥵
Hot Face
🥶
Cold Face
🥴
Woozy Face
😵
Dizzy Face
😵‍💫
Face with spiral eyes
🤯
Exploding Head
🥳 Face Hat
🤠
Cowboy Hat Face
🥳
Partying Face
🥸
Disguised Face
😎 Face Glasses
😎
Smiling Face With Sunglasses
🤓
Nerd Face
🧐
Face With Monocle
😯 Face Concerned
😕
Confused Face
🫤
Face With Diagonal Mouth
😟
Worried Face
🙁
Slightly Frowning Face
☹️
Frowning Face
😮
Face With Open Mouth
😯
Hushed Face
😲
Astonished Face
😳
Flushed Face
🥺
Pleading Face
🥹
Face Holding Back Tears
😦
Frowning Face With Open Mouth
😧
Anguished Face
😨
Fearful Face
😰
Anxious Face With Sweat
😥
Sad But Relieved Face
😢
Crying Face
😭
Loudly Crying Face
😱
Face Screaming in Fear
😖
Confounded Face
😣
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CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS xi

(Autistic Author)


The wind whispers through the leaves of 
the nearby trees, carrying with it the 
scent of fresh-cut grass and the distant 
sound of seagulls. It's a simple pleasure, 
but one that Plankton has often missed 
in his quest to protect his son from the 
storms in his own mind.

Suddenly, the serenity is shattered as a 
ball comes hurtling through the air, 
narrowly missing Plankton's head. He 
flinches, his antennae shooting straight 
up in alarm. Chip's swing comes to an 
abrupt halt, his eyes wide with fear. The 
children playing nearby laugh, unaware 
of the chaos their game has brought to 
the quiet corner of the playground.

Plankton's eye darts around, trying to 
process the sudden assault of sound 
and movement. His breath comes in 
quick, shallow gasps, and Karen can 
see the beginnings of a panic attack 
forming on his face. "Daddy!" Chip 
shouts, jumping off his swing and racing 
to his side.

With surprising speed and grace, Chip 
leaps into action, catching Plankton just 
as he starts to topple off the swing.

"Daddy!" Chip says, his voice filled with 
urgency as he gently guides Plankton's 
unresponsive body to the soft grass 
below. The love rock still clutches in his 
small hand.

Karen rushes over, her eyes wide with 
concern. "Is he ok?" she asks, kneeling 
beside them.

Chip nods, his chest heaving. "He has 
an absence seizure thing," he says, his voice 
shaking slightly. He looks up at Karen, 
his eyes filled with fear and confusion. 
"What do we do?"

Karen's eyes fill with a mix of panic and 
love as she takes in the sight of 
Plankton, his body frozen in mid-swing, 
his antennae limp. She's been here 
before, but it never gets easier. "It's ok," 
she says, her voice calm despite her 
racing heart. "Just give him a moment. 
He'll come back to us."

Chip nods, his grip on the love rock 
tightening as he watches his father. The 
world seems to slow down around them, 
the laughter of the other children fading 
into a distant memory. Plankton's 
breathing is shallow, his body stiff. Karen 
reaches out, placing a gentle hand on 
his back, feeling the rise and fall of his 
chest.

The seconds tick by like hours, each 
one filled with the weight of uncertainty. 
Chip clutches the love rock, willing his 
dad to come back. He's seen this 
before, but it never gets easier. He 
remembers the first time it happened, 
the fear that had gripped him, the feeling 
of helplessness as his dad's eye glazed 
over. But now, he knows what to do. 
He's not as scared; he's prepared.

With trembling hands, Chip takes out the 
love rock, its smoothness a comforting 
reminder of their conversation. He 
places it gently in Plankton's palm, 
curling the slender fingers around it. 
"You're ok," he whispers, his voice 
steady despite the storm of emotions 
inside. "We’re here."

Plankton's body remains still, a stark 
contrast to the vibrant world around 
them. The squeaks of the swings, the 
laughter of the children, the distant 
crash of waves, all seem to fade into the 
background as they wait for him to 
return from his brief retreat.

Karen sits beside Chip, her hand on his 
shoulder, offering silent support.

Time seems to stand still as they wait, 
the rock in Plankton's hand a silent 
testament to their newfound bond. The 
park's vibrant sounds muffle into a 
distant symphony, the world holding its 
breath for Plankton's return. Above 
them, the sun casts a warm, gentle light, 
the shadows dancing as if in a silent 
ballet of concern.

The seconds stretch into eternity, each 
one a heartbeat of hope. Chip's eyes 
never leave his father, willing him back 
with all his might. The rock in Plankton's 
palm is a symbol of love and 
understanding, a bridge connecting 
them through the stormy seas of his 
mind.

As Plankton's body remains frozen, the 
world around them seems to hold its 
breath. The rustling of the leaves above, 
the distant laughter of children, even the 
crash of waves in the background seem 
to hush in respectful silence. It's as if the 
universe itself is offering a quiet 
sanctuary for Plankton's return.

Chip's eyes never leave his father's 
face, his grip on the love rock in 
Plankton's palm unwavering. His heart 
races with fear, but he squeezes the 
rock tighter, trying to channel the love 
and support he feels into his dad's 
unresponsive hand. Chip decides to 
whisper comforting words.
"Daddy, it's ok," he says softly. "You're 
safe here with me and Mom."

Karen's eyes are filled with a mix of fear 
and admiration for her son's courage. 
She watches as Chip decides to 
continue.

"Remember the rock, Daddy?" Chip 
whispers. "It's my way of saying I love 
you."

Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, a 
glimmer of recognition in his eye. The 
world around them seems to hold its 
breath, the very air thick with 
anticipation. Chip's voice is the only 
sound, a gentle lullaby in the cacophony 
of the playground.

The rock in Plankton's hand feels warm, 
almost alive, as if it's absorbing the love 
Chip is whispering into it. Chip watches 
as Plankton's antennae slowly start to 
wiggle, a sign that he's coming back to 
them. "I'm here," Chip says, his voice 
barely audible. "I'll always be here."

Karen's hand moves to cover Chip's, her 
eyes glistening with tears she's trying 
hard to hold back. The sight of her son's 
unwavering support is both 
heartbreaking and awe-inspiring. 
Plankton's chest rises and falls more 
steadily, his breathing evening out.

The rock in Plankton's hand seems to 
pulse with a gentle warmth, a silent 
acknowledgment of Chip's words. Karen 
sees the tension in Plankton's features 
begin to ease, his antennae drooping 
slightly as he starts to come back to 
them. It's a delicate process, like waking 
a sleeping dragon. Any sudden 
movement could send him back into the 
storm.

Chip's voice is a beacon, guiding 
Plankton through the fog. 
"It's ok," Chip repeats, his voice 
soothing, "You're with us." Plankton's 
antennae twitch again, and Karen can 
see the spark of understanding in his 
eye.

Slowly, Plankton's body starts to relax. 
The tension in his shoulders eases, and 
his antennae twitch in a way that tells 
Karen he's listening, that he's with them 
again. His breathing evens out, and his 
eyelid flickers closed.

For a moment, Chip is afraid. But then, 
Plankton's hand tightens slightly around 
the rock, giving him a squeeze that says 
'Thank you'. Karen smiles, her eyes 
shimmering with relief. "Looks like he’s 
asleep," she whispers, her voice filled 
with a mix of humor and love.

Chip nods, his own eyes never leaving 
Plankton's peaceful face. They stay like 
that for a while, the three of them, in the 
quiet sanctuary of the park bench. The 
storm in Plankton's mind has passed, 
leaving them in a gentle lull.

The playground's sounds slowly start to 
filter back in, the chatter of children, the 
distant hum of the city, the rustling of 
leaves in the breeze. Chip keeps 
whispering, his voice a gentle caress in 
the stillness. "It's ok, Daddy. You're 
safe."

Karen watches her son with a mix of 
love and sadness, knowing the weight 
he now carries. He's growing up too fast, 
she thinks, but he's handling it with more 
grace than anyone could ask for. 

Plankton's hand relaxes around the 
rock, his breathing deep and even. The 
storm inside him has passed for now, 
leaving them with a quiet, precious 
moment.

Chip leans into her, his voice a whisper. 
"Is he going to be ok?"

Karen nods, her eyes never leaving 
Plankton's peaceful face. "He'll be fine," 
she says. "Rest is sometimes the best 
thing for him after an episode."

Chip nods, his grip on the rock in 
Plankton's hand loosening slightly. He 
looks around the park, the world coming 
back into focus. The other kids are 
playing, their laughter a gentle reminder 
of the life that goes on outside their little 
bubble of concern.

"Should we go home?" Chip asks, his 
voice still hushed.

Karen nods. "Let's get him into the 
shade," she says, gesturing to a nearby 
tree. "The fresh air and quiet will do him 
good."

Together, they gently lift Plankton and 
carry him to the cool, shaded spot. Chip 
is careful not to jostle him too much, his 
little hands supporting Plankton's head.

Under the tree, Karen lays a blanket on 
the ground and they place him down. 
His antennae are still now, no longer 
dancing with the stress of the seizure. 
His breath is deep and even, his 
features relaxed in sleep.

Chip watches him intently, his thumb 
tracing the smooth surface of the love 
rock. "He's going to be ok, right?" he 
asks, his voice a barely audible whisper. 
Karen nods, her eyes filled with a fierce 
protectiveness. "Of course, sweetie," 
she says. "Daddy just needs some rest."

new chip off the old talks familycore xi

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

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 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

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

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

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

⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢁⠈⢻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠈⡀⠭⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⡟⠄⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣷⣶⣶⡆⠄⠄⠄⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠄⠄⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣇⣼⣿⣿⠿⠶⠙⣿⡟⠡⣴⣿⣽⣿⣧⠄⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣟⣭⣾⣿⣷⣶⣶⣴⣶⣿⣿⢄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣩⣿⣿⣿⡏⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⡋⠘⠷⣦⣀⣠⡶⠁⠈⠁⠄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣍⠃⣴⣶⡔⠒⠄⣠⢀⠄⠄⠄⡨⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡘⠿⣷⣿⠿⠟⠃⠄⠄⣠⡇⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⢁⣷⣠⠄⠄⠄⠄⣀⣠⣾⡟⠄⠄⠄⠄⠉⠙⠻
⠟⠋⠁⠄⠄⠄⢸⣿⣿⡯⢓⣴⣾⣿⣿⡟⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣿⡟⣷⠄⠹⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄

new china xi xi jinping republic of china

https://loadreams.tumblr.com/post/704671090475253760/t%CA%9C%C9%AAs-%C9%AAs-%E1%B4%80-%CA%9F%C9%AAs%E1%B4%9B-%E1%B4%8F%EA%9C%B0-%E1%B4%98%E1%B4%8Fs%E1%B4%9Bs-%E2%B5%8A-%CA%9C%C9%AA%C9%A2%CA%9C%CA%9F%CA%8F-%CA%80%E1%B4%87%E1%B4%84%E1%B4%8F%E1%B4%8D%E1%B4%8D%E1%B4%87%C9%B4%E1%B4%85-%CA%8F%E1%B4%8F%E1%B4%9C-%E1%B4%9B%E1%B4%8F

Tʜɪs ɪs ᴀ ʟɪsᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴏsᴛs ⵊ ʜɪɢʜʟʏ ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ

https://loadreams.tumblr.com/post/704671090475253760/t%CA%9C%C9%AAs-%C9%AAs-%E1%B4%80-%CA%9F%C9%AAs%E1%B4%9B-%E1%B4%8F%EA%9C%B0-%E1%B4%98%E1%B4%8Fs%E1%B4%9Bs-%E2%B5%8A-%CA%9C%C9%AA%C9%A2%CA%9C%CA%9F%CA%8F-%CA%80%E1%B4%87%E1%B4%84%E1%B4%8F%E1%B4%8D%E1%B4%8D%E1%B4%87%C9%B4%E1%B4%85-%CA%8F%E1%B4%8F%E1%B4%9C-%E1%B4%9B%E1%B4%8F

# Neville’s archive by @muselogy

# methods hold no power by @nakedbibi333

# thoughts by anon on @sexydreamgirl

# eiypo by @celestial-heartbeat

# states by @23209

#lexicon by @23209

#effort by @lavender–fairy

# revision by @sirensplayhouse

# waiting for your desires by @venstark

#sp guide by @celestial-heartbeat

# manifest DF by @id18297

#you’re above all by @sparklingself

# being by Aphroditeapprenticee (deactivated)

# laws by @sutheworld

# Edward art series by @lotusmi

# self conception by anon on @sparklingself blog

#void by @arabella111

# all is within by @vesora

# the root of your desire by @neobora

# you create the rules by @fleurlx

#logic by @princessofangiemania

# fulfill in imagination by @remcycl333

# leaving the old story by @blushydior

# Movement by @venusvxen

https://loadreams.tumblr.com/post/704671090475253760/t%CA%9C%C9%AAs-%C9%AAs-%E1%B4%80-%CA%9F%C9%AAs%E1%B4%9B-%E1%B4%8F%EA%9C%B0-%E1%B4%98%E1%B4%8Fs%E1%B4%9Bs-%E2%B5%8A-%CA%9C%C9%AA%C9%A2%CA%9C%CA%9F%CA%8F-%CA%80%E1%B4%87%E1%B4%84%E1%B4%8F%E1%B4%8D%E1%B4%8D%E1%B4%87%C9%B4%E1%B4%85-%CA%8F%E1%B4%8F%E1%B4%9C-%E1%B4%9B%E1%B4%8F

new tumblrcore readingcore listcore tumblr

⠀݂⠀🦪⠀֯⠀ ᮫⠀ ⛤⠀ׄ⠀ 𓍢ִ⠀܄⠀ʬ  ⭑  ˙  𓍯⠀ׄ⠀🦋﹔ 
𝓭ₒₙ'ₜ 𝓬ₒₚᵧ 𝔀ₒᵣₖ ᵳᵣₒₘ ₐₙₒₜₕₑᵣ, ₜₕₑ ₛₐₜᵢₛᵳₐ𝓬ₜᵢₒₙ ₒᵳ ₛᵤ𝓬𝓬ₑₛₛ ᵢₛ ₒₙₗᵧ ᵳₑₗₜ 𝔀ₕₑₙ ᵧₒᵤ 𝓭ₒ ᵧₒᵤᵣ ₒ𝔀ₙ 𝓭ᵤₜᵧ.

new vex xi quote elegant.

Types

Deltacism (from the Greek letter Δ) is a difficulty in producing /d/ sound.
Etacism is a difficulty in producing e sound
Gamacism is a difficulty in producing /ɡ/ sound
Hitism is a difficulty in producing /h/ sound.
Iotacism is a difficulty in producing /j/ sound.
Kapacism is a difficulty in producing /k/ sound.
Lambdacism (from the Greek letter λ) is the difficulty in pronouncing lateral consonants.
Rhotacism is a difficulty producing rhotic consonants sounds in the respective language's standard pronunciation.
In Czech there is a specific type of rhotacism called rotacismus bohemicus which is an inability to pronounce the specific sound ⟨ř⟩ /r̝/.
Sigmatism is a difficulty of producing /s/, /z/ and similar sounds.
Tetacism is a difficulty of producing /t/ sound.
Tetism is replacement of /s/, /k/ and similar sounds with /t/ and of /z/ and similar sounds with /d/.

new speechcore team special olympics listcore special olympics

🇮🇻🇻🇮🇮

new viii sevener xviii iv eighteen 7 8

8ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁☾

new march eight viii month mars march 1 coquette

𝑟𝑚𝑜𝑗𝑖 𝑜𝑖𝑠16🕒

new 18 33 nine year xvi march 5 cute

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢞⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣀⣠⠞⠁⢸⢀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⡀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿⣧⢀⠴⢃⠓⣌⠠⠙⢦⡀⣾⡟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣉⣻⡆
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣸⣿⠄⢣⡉⠖⡄⢓⢅⠂⡙⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⣿⡇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⠐⡤⢀⢤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⣀⢀⠠⣊⣼⣿⠘⣄⠚⢤⠉⡖⡨⢑⣄⢿⣇⠀⣀⢀⢠⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡘⣰⣿⠇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⠿⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⢤⣿⡿⠿⢟⠡⣊⠤⣉⠆⢣⠔⡡⢣⠄⡙⢿⢿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠘⣤⣾⠟⠁⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠆⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⠴⣿⡧⢉⠆⡱⡐⢢⠡⠚⡄⢎⡑⢢⠑⣌⣶⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡐⢤⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⡔⣿⣇⠣⣘⠡⠜⡡⢊⠕⡨⢂⠜⣠⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⣡⣼⠿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⡌⣿⣇⠒⢤⡉⣒⠡⢃⠜⡠⣃⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢔⣡⣾⠿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡌⣿⡧⢉⠆⠴⡁⢎⠰⣨⣶⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⣡⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡌⣿⣇⠣⣘⠡⡘⣤⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⣑⣾⡿⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡌⣿⡧⠑⡄⣣⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢊⣴⣿⠛⣄⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⠇⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⡘⣿⣇⣣⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢊⣴⣿⠟⣠⠙⣄⠓⣅⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢢⠱⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢊⣴⣿⠟⢡⡘⠤⡩⢐⢣⡐⠓⣅⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⢀⢼⣿⠆⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢢⢙⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢊⣴⣿⠟⡡⢊⠖⣈⠖⡡⢃⠆⣉⠖⡨⢑⢆⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀
⠀⣠⠞⠁⢀⡴⢉⠼⣿⡃⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢂⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢊⣴⣿⠟⡡⢊⡔⢣⠘⡄⠎⡔⡡⠚⡄⢎⡑⢣⢌⠱⢆⠈⠳⣄⠀
⢾⣷⣶⣶⡁⡆⢇⢸⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⢏⣿⡿⢁⠎⡁⢇⠸⣀⢉⢰⠉⡰⢁⠷⡈⢆⡸⢰⠈⠶⣈⣷⣶⣾⡷
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⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣶⡹⢮⣿⠆⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡶⠷⢾⣿⡏⢢⠱⢌⡰⢡⡘⢌⢒⡉⢆⣉⠒⠤⢃⠣⢌⠱⣈⣴⣿⣻⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀
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new vii mercaptan xvi

Science
›
Biology
›

Biology Prefixes and Suffixes: hem- or hemo- or hemato-

The prefix (hem- or hemo- or hemato-) refers to blood. It is derived from the Greek (haimo-) and Latin (haemo-) for blood.

Hemangioma (hem-angi-oma): a tumor consisting primarily of newly formed blood vessels. It is a common benign tumor that appears as a birthmark on the skın. A hemangioma may also form on muscle, bone, or organs.

Hematic (hemat-ic): of or relating to blood or its properties.

Hematocrit (hemato-crit): the process of separating blood cells from plasma in order to obtain the ratio of the volume of red blood cells per given volume of blood.

Hematoid (hemat-oid): - resembling or relating to blood.

Hematology (hemato-logy): field of medıcıne concerned with the study of blood including dıseases of the blood and bone marrow. Blood cells are produced by blood-forming tissue in bone marrow.

Hematoma (hemat-oma): abnormal accumulation of blood in an organ or tıssue as a result of a broken blood vessel. A hematoma can also be a cáncer that occurs in the blood.

Hematopoiesis (hemato-poiesis):  the process of forming and generating blood components and blood cells of all types.

Hematuria (hemat-uria): the presence of blood in urine resulting from leakage in the kidneys or another part of the urinary tract. Hematuria may also indicate a urinary system disease, such as bladder cáncer.

Hemoglobin (hemo-globin): iron-containing proteın found in red blood cells. Hemoglobin binds oxygen molecules and transports oxygen to body cells and tissues through the bloodstream.

Hemolymph (hemo-lymph): fluid similar to blood that circulates in arthropods such as spiders and insects. Hemolymph may also refer to both blood and lymph of the human bødy.

Hemolysis (hemo-lysis): destruction of red blood cells as a result of cell rupture. Some pathogenic microbes, plant poıson, and snake venoms can cause red blood cells to rupture. Exposure to h͞igh concentrations of chem1cals, such as arsenic and lead, can also cause hemolysis.

Hemophilia (hemo-philia): a sex-linked blood disørder characterized by excessive bleeding due to a defect in a blood clotting factor. A person with hemophilia has a tendency to bleed uncontrollably.

Hemoptysis (hemo-ptysis): the spewing or coughing up of blood from the lungs or aırways.

Hemorrhage (hemo-rrhage): abnormal and excessive flow of blood.

Hemorrhoids (hemo-rrhoids): swollen blood vessels located in the ani canal.

Hemostasis (hemo-stasis): the fırst stage of wound healing in which the stoppage of blood flow from damaged blood vessels occurs.

Hemothorax (hemo-thorax): an accumulation of blood in the pleural cavıty (space between the chest wall and lungs). A hemothroax may be caused by trauma to the chest, lung infections, or a blood clot in the lungs.

Hemotoxin (hemo-toxin): a toxin that destroys red blood cells by inducing hemolysis. Exotoxins produced by some bacteria are hemotoxins.

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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

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

CATCH IN MY CHIP ix
(Autistic author)

With grace of a dancer, Chip 
slides into the bed beside
his dad, his movements calculated
and precise. Each inch closer feels
like a victory, a step to
reconciliation. He's careful not
to disturb. His hand reaches
for Plankton's, his touch a
whisper in the quiet.

Plankton's breathing steady and rhythmic.
Chip swells with hope, clutches the
hand tightly, feeling the
strength in the slender fingers.
It's a silent declaration of love,
an unspoken apology.

Karen watches, her screen
shimmering with unshed tears.
The sight of her son and
husband finding their way
back to each other fills her
heart with a warmth that
chases the shadows from the
room. She knows this isn't a
moment to interrupt, so she
simply observes, her hand
on Chip's back in silent
support.

Chip's eyes drift shut, and he lets
his body mold to the warmth
of his dad's side. The scent of
his dad's pillow, a mix of
saltwater and something
uniquely Plankton, fills his
nose, lulling him into a
sense of safety.

Time seems to stand still in the
quiet embrace, each tick of the
clock a gentle reminder that
moments like these are rare. But
eventually, the world outside
their sanctuary calls, and Plankton
stirs.

His antennas twitch, his
eye blinking open .
He's disoriented at first, his
brain still wrapped in the
cotton wool of sleep. Then he feels
the warmth beside him, the
weight of a small hand in his.

Plankton's heart stutters,
his body tense. His eye find
Chip's peaceful face, his son's
cheek pressed against his arm.
The room is a tableau of quiet,
the air thick with the unspoken.
He's torn between emotions and fear,
his mind racing.

He doesn't remember falling
asleep, the anger and frustration
of last night a distant memory.
But here's Chip, a living proof
of their unspoken reconciliation.
Plankton's antennas quiver,
his hand hovering over their
entwined fingers. He's afraid to
move, to disturb the fragile
harmony of the moment.

But his body has other plans.
His muscles tense, his skin
prickling with the need for
space. He's not used to this,
the warmth, the weight. His
autistic brain screams for order,
for predictability. He tries to
swallow the rising panic, to push
it back down into the pit of his
stomach where it belongs. Plankton
can feel his own heart racing,
his antennas quivering with
the effort of holding still. His
body wants to recoil, to retreat
from the sudden assault of
sensation. But he can't, not with
his son's hand in his.

Karen notices the tension
in his body, the way his antennas
spasm slightly. She knows what's
coming, the inevitable retreat.
With a gentle touch, she whispers,
"It's okay, Plankton. You don't have
to handle it if it's too much."
Her words are a soothing balm,
but they're not enough to
calm the storm inside him.

Chip's hand tightens slightly
around his, and Plankton's eye
snap to his son's face. He sees
the trust there, the love.
It's a punch to the gut, a
reminder of all the moments
he's missed, all the times he's
failed to understand. His hand
shakes, the tremble traveling
up his arm.

He tries to swallow the
rising panic, his throat tight.
But it's too much, the weight
of his son's body, the heat,
the smell, the touch. His mind
whirrs, his senses overloading.
He needs space, to think, to breathe.
With a deep, shuddering inhale,
he starts to pull away, his
body fighting the instinct to
shove Chip off the bed.

Karen's hand is a gentle
weight on his shoulder.
"Take it slow," she whispers,
her voice a lifeline in the storm.

Plankton nods, his antennas
still quivering. He tries to
push the panic down, to
focus on the warmth of
Chip's hand, the steady beat
of their hearts. But the
pressure builds, a crescendo
of sensation threatening to
crush him. He can't breathe.

With a tremble, he starts
to pull away, his hand
sliding out from under
Chip's. "I'm sorry," he
whispers, his voice strained.
"It's too much."

Karen's hand remains
on his shoulder, her eyes
filled with compassion.
"It's okay," she says, her voice
a soft whisper. "We're here."

The room spins around
Plankton, a whirlwind of
colors and shapes. His antennas
wave wildly, his grip on reality
slipping. He's lost in the chaos
of his own mind, the sensory
overload a tornado that
threatens to consume him.

Karen's voice is a beacon,
guiding him back to shore.
"Breathe," she whispers, her hand
still on his shoulder. "In, out,
slowly." Her words are a
lifeline in the tempest.

Plankton nods, his breaths
coming in ragged gasps. He tries
to focus on the sensation of
her hand, the gentle pressure
of her touch. But the world
keeps spinning, the colors
blurring together like a
watercolor painting left in
the rain.

He feels the bed shift as
Karen sits beside him, her
presence a grounding force.
"Just breathe," she says, her
voice a soft mantra. "You're
okay." His chest rises and falls in
quick succession, his body's
desperate attempt to regulate
itself amidst the chaos. His
heart races, each beat a
staccato in his ears. The room
spins, the walls closing in, the
ringing in his ears getting louder
to where it consumes him, now
impenetrable to any other sound.

Karen notices the sudden
pallor that sweeps over her
husband's face, the way his
body sags into the bed.
Her eyes fill with concern,
her hand tightening on his
shoulder. "Look at me," she says,
her voice firm but gentle.
"Take deep breaths."

But the ringing in his head is
too loud. It's consumed him
and impenetrable. He can't
hear her. He doesn't hear
anything.

Karen's voice is a distant
echo, the words swallowed by
the cacophony in his mind.
Her hand on his shoulder is
the only real thing, the
only anchor keeping him from
being swept away.

The room spins faster, the
colors bleeding into one
another until all Plankton
can see is a kaleidoscope of
sensory overload. The ringing
in his ears crescendos,
drowning out the world.
His chest feels tight, his lungs
desperate for air that won't
come. He's adrift in a sea
of panic, unable to find
his way back to the shore.

Karen's voice cuts through
the din, her hand a firm
reminder of reality. "Look
at me," she says, her eyes
locked on his, her voice a
steady lighthouse guiding
his way back. "Just me,
just us." But Plankton's not
hearing anymore.

The room is spinning, the
colors a whirlwind of chaos.
He's lost in the tornado
of his own making, the
sensory overload a prison
he can't escape. His hand
shakes, his body tense as
his mind begs for reprieve.
Karen's eyes widen with
concern.

"Plankton," she whispers, her
voice a gentle lullaby. "Look
at me." She moves closer, her
hand reaching for his face.
Her touch is a grounding force,
but it's not enough. He's
too far gone.

The room spins, a blur
of color and sound. Plankton's
eye is wide with panic, his
body trembling. The bed seems
to shift beneath him, the
walls closing in. His breaths
are shallow, his chest tight.
He's lost in the tornado of
his senses.

Karen's hand on his
shoulder is a lifeline, but
his mind is too far gone.
Her voice is a distant
whisper, the words unintelligible.
All he can feel is the
crushing weight of the
world pressing down on him,
the lights too bright, the
noises too loud. And then
Chip stirs in his sleep.

The movement sends a
shiver down Plankton's spine,
his body tightening like a
coiled spring. The ringing in
his ears reaches a crescendo,
drowning out everything else.
He tries to push the panic
back down, to find the calm
he desperately needs, but it's
like trying to hold back the
tide with a paper wall.

Karen's eyes are filled with
fear as she sees Plankton's
descent into overwhelm. She
knows the signs all too well.
Her hand on his shoulder is
now a firm grip, trying to
keep him tethered to the
here and now. "Look at me,"
she says, her voice a gentle
command. "Just me, just us."

But Plankton's gaze is unfocused,
his mind swirling with a
torrent of sensations that
make him feel like he's
falling into a bottomless pit.
The room seems to spin faster,
the light from the window a
piercing glare that slices through
his retina. He wants to
shield his eye, but his arm
feels like lead, too heavy to lift.

Karen's touch is the only
constant, her hand on his
shoulder the one thing that
feels real amidst the
sensory maelstrom. But even
that is slipping away as
his dizziness crescendos into
full-blown vertigo. His vision
blurs, the lines of reality
smearing into a nauseating
whirl of color and light.

"Plankton," she says, her voice
urgent. "Look at me."

The words echo in his
head, a distant call amidst
the chaos. He tries to focus
on her face, her eyes the only
constant in the whirlwind
of sensations. But the world
spins, faster and faster,
until all he can see is a
blur of color.

Her hand on his shoulder is
a lifeline, but it's slipping
away. He feels himself
falling, tumbling into the
void of his own mind. His
body is a marionette, his
strings cut by the storm.
The ringing in his ears
reaches a crescendo, a
symphony of panic that
consumes him.

Karen's eyes are wide
with fear, her grip on him
desperate. "Look at me,"
she repeats, her voice 
steady. "You're okay."
Her hand moves to his face.

But Plankton's gaze is
glassy, his pupil dilated.
He's trapped in the chaos of
his senses. The ringing
in his ears is a siren's
call, pulling him deeper.

Karen's hand moves from
his shoulder to his cheek,
the softness of her touch
a stark contrast to the
harshness of the world
invading his mind. "Look
at me," she repeats, her voice
a whisper. "You're safe."
Her thumb traces the line
of his jaw, a gentle guide.

But Plankton's eye is
glassy, lost in the storm.
Her words are gentle,
trying to soothe him. But the
flames are too high, too
strong. He's drowning in
his own senses.

With a tremble, Karen's hand
moves to his cheek, her
touch a soft caress. "Look at
me," she whispers, her voice
a lifeline thrown into
the tempest. "You're ok."

new catch in my chip Chip Plankton II ix

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON viii

(Autistic author)


The room grew quiet as they
all digested the information.
Sponge Bob's gaze never left
Plankton's, his expression
filled with a fierce loyalty.
He knew his friend was
different, but that didn't
change the love he had for
the tiny creature.

Sensing the tension, Sponge
Bob took a deep breath and
smiled his wide, welcoming smile.
"You know what, Plankton?" he
said, his voice a gentle rumble.
"You're still my best buddy, no
matter what."

Plankton's antennae perked
up, his eye focusing on
Sponge Bob's earnest expression.
The sponge's words were a
comforting lullaby, a gentle
reminder of their unbreakable bond.
He felt the warmth of their
friendship wash over him, a
comforting blanket against the
coldness of Hanna's accusations.

Sponge Bob's hand found its
way to his shoulder, the
touch a familiar comfort that
his overstimulated senses craved.
Plankton leaned into the warmth,
his body responding to the
soothing pressure. "Best buddies,"
he echoed, his voice a soft
affirmation.

The room grew quiet as
Sponge Bob's hand remained
steady on his shoulder, his
presence a calming force in
the storm of his emotions. Plankton
closed his eye, his body
relaxing into the gentle embrace.

"We're gonna get through this,"
Sponge Bob said, his voice a
soothing lullaby. "We'll figure
it out, buddy. I'm here for
you."

Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly, the warmth of his friend's
words seeping into his soul.
Sponge Bob had always had
a way of making him feel safe,
but now, with this new
knowledge, their friendship
felt even more vital.

"Thank you," Plankton murmured,
his voice a soft echo of
gratitude. Sponge Bob's
thumb rubbed circles on his
back.

The two friends sat in
silence, the warmth of their
companionship a stark contrast
to the chill of Hanna's words.
Plankton felt the tension in
his body slowly melt away,
his breaths evening out. The
steady beat of Sponge Bob's
heart was a comforting lullaby
that helped him find peace.

Sponge Bob's thumb continued
its circular dance on his back, a
wordless communication of
his love and support. Plankton
sighed, his body growing
heavier with each comforting
pressure point. "Thank you," he
murmured, his voice a gentle
whisper.

Sponge Bob's eyes searched his
face, a flicker of understanding
dawning. "It's okay, Plankton,"
he said. "We'll get through this
together." His hand didn't
move, his touch a silent
promise of his unwavering
support.

Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly, the comfort of his
friend's presence a warmth
against the coldness of his fear.
He knew Sponge Bob would
always be there for him, even
if he didn't fully understand
his condition. The sponge's
love was a constant, a beacon
of light in his otherwise
confusing world.

Sponge Bob's eyes never left
his friend's, his smile a gentle
reminder of the joy they
shared. "You know, Plankton,"
he began, his voice a soft
caress. "You're still
the same little guy I've
always known."

Plankton's antennae twitched, his
body leaning into the warmth of
Sponge Bob's embrace.

The steady beat of the sponge's
heart was a comforting metronome
that helped him find his rhythm
again. He felt the tension in
his body slowly melt away, each
breath growing deeper and more
even. The room, once a battlefield
of accusations and misunderstandings,
was now a haven of quiet comfort.

The rustling of pages grew
softer, the candle's glow dimming
as the minutes ticked by. Karen
and Hanna watched from afar,
heavy with regret
and hope. They saw the change in
Plankton, the way he leaned into
Sponge Bob's touch, the way his
body slowly relaxed.

Sponge Bob, ever the
comforting presence, began to
hum a gentle tune, a melody
that Plankton had heard a
thousand times. The familiar
notes were a lullaby that
soothed his frazzled nerves,
his antennae dropping to rest
against the sponge's shoulder.
The tune was a bridge to
his past, a time before the
accident, before the world had
shifted on its axis.

Plankton's breaths grew deeper,
his body swaying slightly with
the rhythm. His eye closed.
Sponge Bob's humming grew softer,
his hand never leaving Plankton's
back. The warmth of his
companion's embrace was a
soothing balm.

The room, once a prison
of accusations, was now a sanctuary
of friendship. The candle's
flame danced, casting shadows
that played across the walls,
their flickering a gentle reminder
of the warmth in their hearts.

Sponge Bob's hum grew softer,
his melody a gentle whisper that
lulled Plankton into a peaceful
reverie. His body molded
into the sponge's embrace,
his antennae drooping with
the weight of his eyelid. The
world outside faded away,
replaced by the safety of Sponge
Bob's arms.

Karen watched from the
distance, shimmering with
unshed tears. She knew the
importance of this moment, the
power of a friend who
understood without words. Her heart
swelled with gratitude for
Sponge Bob's unwavering support.

Hanna, too, felt the
weight of her own words, the
realization of her ignorance
heavy on her shoulders. She
longed to reach out, to be
part of this healing embrace, but
felt the boundary that she had
unwittingly created. Her screen
followed the tender scene, her
thoughts racing with a
desire to apologize, to explain.

But she knew that now was not
the time for words. Instead, she
sat quietly, watching the
dance of friendship unfold. The
steady beat of Sponge Bob's
heart, the gentle rustle of his
body against Plankton's, the
soothing hum that filled the
air—it was a symphony of care.

Hanna's gaze drifted to the
candle, its flame a flickering
reminder of the warmth that
was slowly seeping into the
room. She watched as Plankton's
body grew heavier, his breaths
deepening. The anger and fear
that had once dominated the
space were now replaced with a
comforting quietude.

Karen's hand found Hanna's,
squeezing gently. "He's ok,"
she whispered. "We're going
to be ok." Her voice was a
calm sea, offering a gentle
buoyancy to the storm of
emotions that had ravaged
them all.

Hanna's screen searched hers,
uncertainty warring with hope.
"I'm sorry," she murmured,
her voice a soft apology. "I
just didn't know."

Karen nodded, her gaze
compassionate. "It's a journey,"
she said. "We're all just
trying to understand."

The humming grew softer, until
it was only a faint echo in
the room. Plankton's antennae
twitched with the last
remnants of his anxiety,
before they too stilled. His
body grew heavy, his breaths
deep and even. The gentle
sway of Sponge Bob's embrace
was a lullaby that rocked him
into a peaceful slumber.

Sponge Bob felt the
change in Plankton's tension,
his friend's body becoming
a soft weight against his. He
smiled, his heart swelling
with love and relief. Carefully,
he adjusted his hold, cradling
the tiny creature against his
chest. His thumb continued its
comforting strokes, his eyes
never leaving the closed eye.

Karen stepped forward, her
movements graceful and silent.
Her hand rested on Sponge
Bob's arm, her screen a gentle
thank you. Hanna quietly left.

The room was now bathed in
the soft glow of the candle,
its flicker the only sound.
Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly in his sleep, his
breaths deep and even. Sponge
Bob held him tight, his
heartbeat a gentle rhythm that
soothed the tiny creature's
slumber.

Karen watched the two,
aching with love and
gratitude. She knew that
Sponge Bob's simple act of
comfort was a powerful
statement of friendship and
support. It was moments like
this that reminded her of the
strength in their bond.

The candle's flame danced
gently, casting shadows that
played across Plankton's sleeping
face. His antennae, once a
whirlwind of anxiety, were now
still, resting against Sponge
Bob's chest. His breaths were
even and deep, a testament
to the peace he had found
in his friend's embrace.

Sponge Bob looked down at
his sleeping companion, his
face a picture of quiet contentment.
He knew that Plankton was
safe here, that his slumber was
a reprieve from the storm of
emotions that had ravaged
his day. The room was a
sanctuary of calm, the candle's
warmth a gentle guardian.

The sponge's heart swelled with
love as he watched his friend's
tiny chest rise and fall, each
breath a whispered promise
of support. He knew that
Plankton's world was now
different, that the ASD had
brought with it challenges that
neither of them could have
foreseen. But in this moment,
their bond was stronger than
ever, a beacon of understanding
in a sea of uncertainty.

Karen's eyes searched
Sponge Bob's, her own heart
heavy with the weight of what
Plankton had endured. "Thank
you," she murmured, her voice a
soft wave of appreciation.
"For being there for him."

Sponge Bob's gaze never left
Plankton's sleeping form, his
thumb still tracing comforting
patterns. "Always," he said, his
voice a gentle promise. "No
matter what."

new neurobehavioral plankton plankbobs viii

JUST A TOUCH vii
(Autistic author)


The room is thick with
unspoken words as Sandy
slowly approaches the bed,
her movements calculated to
avoid overstimulating Plankton.
Her eyes are full of compassion,
but also fear of the unknown.

"Hi, Plankton," she says softly,
extending her hand with a gentle wave.
He flinches, his antennae quivering.
"Remember me?" Plankton's
brain processes her words, but
his response is delayed. He nods,
his movements mechanical.

Sandy sits on the edge
of the bed, her eyes never
leaving his. "How are you
feeling?" she asks, her voice
carefully modulated to avoid
causing him discomfort.

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his eye darting to the side.
He doesn't look at her directly,
his gaze lingering on a spot
on the wall. "Fine," he says,
his voice devoid of inflection.

Sandy nods, her eyes
searching his for any sign
of the friend she knew. "It's
good to see you, Plankton."
Her words hang in the air,
their meaning lost in the
labyrinth of his new reality.

Karen watches them, her heart
in her throat. She can see
the effort Plankton is making
to engage with Sandy, the way
his antennae twitch with every
word spoken. It's a dance,
a delicate balance between
his need for solace and
his desire for connection.

Sandy's hand hovers
near his, her eyes questioning.
"Can I?" she asks, her voice
barely a whisper. Plankton's
gaze shifts to hers, his
expression unreadable.

Karen nods, giving her
permission. "Gently," she says,
a soft reminder. Sandy nods,
her hand inching closer to
his. Plankton's antennae
twitch slightly, his body
stiffening as her fingertips
brush against his.
But the moment their skin
makes contact, something
snaps within him. He jolts upright,
his antennae flailing as his eye
widen in panic.

"Too much," he cries out, his
voice a mix of fear and anger.
"Too much!" The room seems to
shrink around him, the walls
closing in with every beat of
his racing heart.

Sandy's eyes widen in shock,
her hand retreating quickly. "Plankton,"
she says, her voice calm. "It's okay."

But Plankton's not listening, his
body shaking with the force
of his emotions. "No!" he yells,
his voice echoing through the room.
"No touch!"

Sandy's face falls, her eyes
brimming with confusion and
hurt. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice
shaking. "I didn't mean to..."

But Plankton's in the throes
of a full-blown meltdown. His
tiny fists clench. "No touch!"
he repeats, his voice rising.

Karen's heart breaks
seeing the fear in Sandy's eyes,
but she understands the
importance of respecting
Plankton's boundaries. "We're
sorry, Plank..."

But Plankton's anger
interrupts her, his voice
sharp and intense. "No! No sorry!
Sandy touch no good!" His words
are a jumble of pain and
frustration, a stark contrast
to the controlled monotone
he'd used earlier.

Sandy's eyes fill with tears,
her hand retreating to her lap.
"I'm sorry," she whispers,
her voice cracking. "I didn't
know." Karen nods, her grip
on Plankton's hand tightening.

"It's okay," she says to both
of them, her voice steady.
"We're just figuring this out."
Plankton's chest heaves with
breaths. "No touch," he
mutters, his voice fading.

Sandy nods, her eyes
still on Plankton. "I'm
sorry," she repeats, her voice
softer. "I'll..."

But Plankton's outburst
continues, his voice rising. "No touch!"
The room vibrates with his
distress, the air thick with
his panic. Karen's heart races,
her mind racing to find a way
to soothe him. She knows he's
overwhelmed, that his new
hypersensitivity to touch has
been violated.

Sandy's eyes widen, her
hands hovering awkwardly in
the space between them. She
can see the turmoil in his
face, the anguish in his voice.
"I didn't mean to..." she starts,
but her words are swallowed
by his distress.

"Plankton, it's okay,"
she says, her voice barely
above a whisper. But it's too
late. The dam has broken,
and his emotions flood the
room like a storm.

His tiny body trembles with
rage, his antennae flailing in
every direction. "No touch!"
he screams again, the force
of his voice surprising even
Sandy. She jumps back,
hands raised in a gesture
of surrender.

Karen's eyes are on Plankton,
a silent apology in her gaze.
"It's okay," she says to him,
her voice soothing. "We'll
make sure that doesn't
happen again." Plankton's
eye darts around the room,
his breathing erratic. "No touch,"
he whispers, his voice
broken.

Sandy backs away, her eyes
swimming with unshed tears.
"I didn't know," she says,
her voice thick. "I'm so sorry."

The room echoes with Plankton's
sobs, his body quaking in Karen's
arms. Karen's heart
aches for him, her eyes never leaving
his face.

"No touch," he whispers, his voice
broken. Karen nods, her eyes brimming
with tears. "I know," she says, her voice
gentle. "It's okay. We'll figure this out."

Plankton's antennae stop flailing,
his body still trembling as the storm
of his emotions begin to subside. He
looks up at Karen, his gaze searching
for comfort. She wipes a tear from her
face with her free hand. "It's okay,"
she repeats. "You're okay."

Sandy's eyes are red, her
shoulders slumped. "I didn't know,"
she says again, her voice shaking.
"I just wanted to help."

Karen nods, her own eyes
wet with empathy. "I know," she says.
"It's a lot to take in."

The three of them sit
in the quiet room, the only
sound Plankton's muffled sobs.
Sandy's eyes dart around,
not knowing what to do with
herself. Karen squeezes
his hand gently, her gaze
never leaving his. "We're
here for you," she whispers.

Slowly, Plankton's crying
subsides, his body still
shaking. Karen can feel the
tension in him, like a coiled
spring ready to snap again.
Sandy's hand twitches, as if
she wants to reach out, but
she stops herself, remembering
his outburst. "I'm sorry,"
she says again, her voice
small.

Karen nods, her eyes never
leaving Plankton's. "It's not
your fault," she says to
Sandy, her voice gentle.
"We're all just trying to
navigate this new... reality."
Sandy sniffs, nodding.

"I just want to be here
for you guys," she says, her
voice shaky. Plankton's
sobs quiet, his body
slumping in exhaustion.

Karen nods, her eyes
meeting Sandy's. "We know,
and we appreciate it," she
says, her voice tight. "But we
have to be careful with
his sensory needs."

Sandy nods, her
face a mask of sorrow. "I'll
learn," she whispers. "What do
you need from me, Plan..."

But Plankton's already
slipping away, his eyelid
drooping as sleep beckons.
Karen's grip on his hand
doesn't loosen as she watches
his breathing even out. The
tension in the room slowly
eases as his body relaxes,
his sobs giving way to quiet
snuffles.

Sandy's eyes are on him,
her heart heavy with guilt.
"I'll go," she says, her voice
barely above a whisper. Karen
nods, her gaze still on Plankton.
"Thank you," she murmurs. "Call
me if you need anything."

Sandy nods, her eyes
lingering on the two of them
before she stands, her legs shaky.
She crosses the room, the weight
of her mistake dragging her
down. As she reaches the door,
she glances back one last time.
Plankton's antennae twitch
slightly in his sleep, and she
can't help but feel a pang
of sadness.

Karen's eyes follow her,
filled with a mix of
gratitude and sorrow.
"Thank you," she whispers
again as Sandy exits,
closing the door behind her.
The click echoes through
the quiet space, a stark
reminder of the distance
that's grown between
them all.

Plankton's grip on her
hand tightens slightly in his
sleep, as if sensing the
shift in the room's energy.
Karen brings her other hand
to cover his, sandwiching
it between hers. Her eyes
well with tears as she
whispers, "It's okay, Plankton.
You're okay."

The room is bathed in silence
once again, the only sound
being Plankton's gentle
snores. Karen's mind is racing,
thinking of all the
adjustments they'll need to
make, the education she'll
have to provide to those
who know and love him. But
for now, she focuses on the
warmth of his hand in hers,
his head buried in her shoulder.

Her eyes drift to the clock,
the hands moving in a slow,
steady march forward. It's time
for her to start dinner,
to bring some semblance of
normalcy back into their lives.
Gently, she shifts Plankton to
his side, making sure he's
comfortable before rising
from the bed.

The kitchen is a minefield
of potential triggers: the
hum of the fridge, the clink
of pans, the smell of
cooking food. She moves
carefully, her eyes scanning
the room for anything that
might overstimulate him.

The recipe she's chosen is
simple, something they both
enjoy. She starts the prep,
chopping vegetables with a
precision that Plankton would
appreciate, her movements
methodical and calming.

The aroma of cooking food
fills the air, a comforting
reminder of their shared life.
Karen's mind is a whirlwind
of thoughts, planning how
to help Plankton navigate this
new world. She wipes her
hands on a towel.
As she hears Plankton's tentative
steps on the stairs, she takes a
deep breath. His descent is
slow, each step measured
with caution.

When he enters the kitchen,
his gaze darts around the room,
his antennae twitching with
each new sound. Karen's heart
squeezes. She's used to his
energy, his boundless enthusiasm.
This cautious creature is still
his shell-shocked self.

"Hungry?" she asks, her voice
as soft as the evening light.
Plankton nods.

The meal is a simple one,
a familiar comfort in a world
that's become so alien. Karen
places the plate before him,
the steaming food a visual
symphony of their shared past.

Plankton's antennae quiver,
his gaze fixating on the plate.
"Food," he says, his voice
still monotone. Karen nods,
aching for the
passionate foodie she knew.

"Do you need anything
else?" she asks, her voice
soft. He shakes his head.

The meal is eaten in
silence, each bite a victory. Karen wants
to say something, anything,
but she knows he needs
space, time to process the
whirlwind of emotions.

new just a touch neurodisability vii

SHELF IMPROVEMENT ix
(Autistic author)

"Plankton," Karen 
says, her voice 
steady despite the 
worry. "You need to 
understand that Chip 
doesn't mean to 
hurt you."

But Plankton was lost 
in his own world, his 
tiny fists clenched 
by his sides, his 
body vibrating with 
uncontrolled anger. "No 
more!" he shrieked. "No 
more Chip!" His eye 
was wild, darting around 
the room as if searching 
for an escape from 
the invisible tormentor.

Karen watched him. She had 
read about meltdowns 
in her research but 
experiencing one was 
another matter entirely. 
Her husband's distress 
was palpable, and she 
knew she had to act 
quickly.

"Plankton," she 
said, her voice calm 
but firm. "Look at me.
It's Karen. You're safe."

But Plankton's 
eye remained wild, 
his antennae quivering. 
"No safe," he 
whispered, his voice 
haunted. "Chip, too loud."

Karen understood the depth 
of his fear. "Chip's 
not here," she said 
soothingly. "He's in his 
room, just like we asked.
You're okay."

But Plankton's 
screams continued, 
his tiny body 
shaking with the 
force of his 
anger. "Chip go!"
he yelled, his voice 
scratchy from the 
strain. "Chip bad!"

Karen's mind raced, 
trying to find a way 
to calm him. She 
moved closer, her 
hands up in a non-
threatening gesture. 
"Plankton, please," 
she said, her voice 
as gentle as a 
whisper. "Chip's not 
here, remember?"

But Plankton's 
autistic meltdown 
continued, his voice 
raised in a string of 
incoherent threats 
and fear. "No more 
Chip!" he screamed. 
"Bad Chip, go!" His 
body was a blur of 
movement.

Karen tried to approach him, 
her movements slow 
and deliberate. "It's 
just us, Plankton," she 
said calmly, her voice 
soothing. "You're 
safe."

But Plankton's 
autistic meltdown 
was unyielding. "Chip bad!"
he yelled, his antennae 
thrashing wildly. "Karen, 
make Chip go!" "Plankton, 
Chip's not here," she 
repeated, her voice 
even softer. "It's just 
you and me."

Plankton's screams 
continued, his 
tiny frame contorted 
with rage. "Make Chip 
leave!" he shrieked. 
"Chip go away!"

Karen's eyes 
filled with tears 
as she approached 
his trembling body. 
"Plankton, baby," she 
whispered, her voice 
steady. "Chip's not 
here. It's okay."

But Plankton's 
autistic meltdown 
showed no signs of 
abating. He continued 
to scream, his 
fear-filled eye darting 
around the room as if 
his son was still 
there, threatening 
his sanctity. "No 
Chip, no more!"

Karen's voice 
was a gentle stream 
of reassurance, 
trying to cut through 
the storm of 
his distress. She 
knew she had to find 
a way to calm him 
without adding to his 
overwhelm. She 
moved closer, her 
body language open and 
non-threatening.

"Plankton," she 
soothed, her hand 
outstretched. "Look 
at me, it's just me, 
Karen." But his 
screams grew louder, 
his tiny fists 
pounding the bed 
in frustration.

"No Chip! No more 
loud!" he shrieked, 
his voice raw. "Karen 
keep Chip away!"

Karen moved closer, 
carefully placing 
a hand on 
his shaking 
shoulder. "Chip's not 
here, Plankton," she 
soothed, her voice 
gentle. "It's okay."

But Plankton's 
autistic meltdown 
was a tempest 
she couldn't calm. 
"No more Chip!" 
he sobbed, his 
tiny body shaking 
with the force of 
his emotions. 
Tears streamed 
down his face, 
his antennae drooping 
as if in defeat.

Karen couldn't bear to 
see him like this, 
so vulnerable and 
afraid. She sat 
on the edge of 
the bed, her hand 
still on his shoulder. 
"It's okay," she 
whispered, her voice 
a gentle lullaby. "Chip's 
not here, Plankton."

Plankton's sobs 
were like the 
waves of the sea, 
crashing against 
the shore of his 
tiny frame. Each 
breath he took 
was a battle, his 
body racked with 
the effort of trying 
to calm himself down. 
Karen felt powerless, 
but she knew she had to 
try something.

"Plankton," she 
whispered, her voice 
barely audible over 
his cries. "Let's do 
our deep breathing, 
okay?" She demonstrated, 
inhaling deeply and 
exhaling slowly, hoping 
the rhythm would 
soothe him.

For a moment, 
his screams stuttered, 
his breath catching. 
Karen felt a flicker 
of hope. She leaned 
closer, her hand 
on his chest. "In and 
out," she instructed, 
feeling the rapid 
thump of his heart 
beneath her palm.

Slowly, his sobs began to 
even out, his breath 
matching hers. His 
body was still tense, 
his antennae still 
quivering, but the 
intensity of his meltdown 
was waning. Karen 
continued to breathe 
with him, her hand 
a comforting weight 
on his chest.

"Good, Plankton," she 
whispered, her voice 
a soft breeze in the 
storm. "In and out."

His sobs grew quieter, 
his body less tense. 
Karen's hand remained 
steady on his chest, 
feeling the erratic 
thumps slowing to a 
more manageable rhythm. 
The room was a cocoon 
of soft sounds—his 
breaths, her voice, the 
faint ticking of the 
clock on the wall.

"Good," she said, 
her voice still a 
whisper. "We're okay."

Plankton's body 
was still, his 
breathing returning to 
normal. He looked 
up at Karen. "Karen,"
he murmured, his voice 
small and scared.

Karen's with love 
and sadness. "I'm 
right here, baby," she 
whispered, stroking his 
forehead. "You're safe."

Plankton's antennae 
twitched, his 
body slowly relaxing 
beneath her touch. 
"Safe," he murmured. 
"Chip?"

Karen squeezed his 
shoulder gently. "Chip's 
in his room, just like 
we asked," she said, her 
voice soft and steady. 
"He's not going to 
bother you now."

Plankton's antennae 
stilled, his breaths 
coming in deep, 
shuddering gulps. "No 
more loud," he whispered.

Karen nodded. "I know, 
baby," she said. "We'll 
make sure it's quieter 
for you."

Plankton's antennae 
relaxed slightly. "No 
more loud," he repeated, 
his voice a plea.

Karen nodded, 
swiping at her own 
tears. "We'll keep 
things calm," she 
promised. "We're all 
going to work 
together to make 
sure you're okay."

Plankton's gaze 
flicked to the door, 
his antennae quivering. 
"Chip safe?" he asked, 
his voice a mere 
whisper.

"Chip's safe," Karen 
reassured, her voice 
soothing. "He's just in 
his room, giving 
us some space."

Plankton's antennae 
twitched with 
understanding. "Space," 
he murmured. "Chip 
understands space?"

"Chip's just a 
little confused," she 
explained. "He loves 
you, but he's learning 
about your new 
needs."

Plankton nodded 
slightly, his antennae 
still. "Chip good," 
he murmured. "Just... 
to much."

Karen felt a 
wave of relief wash 
over her. "Yes, 
sweetie," she said. 
"Sometimes Chip's 
energy can be too 
much. We'll talk to 
him about it."

Plankton's antennae 
twitched again, 
his gaze drifting 
back to the 
closed door. "Talk?"

Karen nodded, 
wiping the tears. "Yes, 
we'll talk to him," she 
said. "We'll explain 
how you're feeling 
and what you need."

Plankton's antennae 
drooped slightly. "Chip 
still loves Plankton?"

Karen's eyes filled 
with tears. "More than 
anything," she assured 
him, her voice thick 
with emotion. "Chip loves 
you so much, and he'll 
learn how to be 
gentler with you."

Plankton's antennae 
perked up a little, 
his fear beginning 
to recede. "Gentler,"
he whispered, his voice 
hopeful.

"Yes," Karen 
nodded, her eyes 
never leaving his. 
"We'll all learn 
to be gentler."

new shelf improvement gentlecore ix

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

NEW REALITY vii
(Autistic author)

She sleeps at her bed
next to his. The house is quiet,
except for the soft snores
coming from Plankton.

But both of their 
eyes snap open
at the sound of 
the doorbell.

Plankton's body tenses,
his hand shooting up to 
cover his head. Karen
moves quickly, her heart 
racing. She knows that 
sudden sounds can be
overwhelming for him.
"It's okay," she murmurs,
placing her hand over 
his. "Door," he says, his voice
still groggy from sleep.

Her eyes dart to the 
clock. It's early, much 
earlier than anyone would 
usually visit. "I'll go 
see who it is," she says, 
trying to keep her voice 
steady. "You stay here."

Plankton nods, his hand
dropping from his head
to clutch at the blanket.
"Stay," he whispers, his
voice tight with anxiety.

Karen's eyes fill with
concern. "I'll be right
back," she promises, her
voice soft. "Just stay here."

Plankton nods, his grip
on the blanket tightening.
"Stay," he repeats, his voice
less than a whisper.

Karen nods, her heart racing.
"I will," she whispers. "Just rest."

As she opens the door, she's
met with the cheerful face of
Hanna, her book club friend.
"Hey Karen, I hope I'm not too early!"
Hanna says, a word book in hand.

Karen's eyes widen, her heart
racing. "No, not at all," she says,
forcing a smile. "Come in."

Hanna steps into the house,
her eyes bright with excitement.
But as she sees Karen's 
expression, her smile falters.
"Is everything okay?" she asks,
concern etched on her face.

Karen nods, as Plankton
comes into the room, his gaze
fixed on the spinning fan.
"This is Plankton,"
Karen introduces, her voice
calm.

Hanna smiles. "Hi Plankton,"
she says, her voice too bright.

He nods, his gaze still
locked on the fan. "Fan spin,"
he murmurs.

Hanna's eyes widen, unsure
how to respond. Karen
quickly interjects. "Why
don't we take a look at the
work puzzle book.."

Plankton's gaze shifts, his
interest piqued by the
mention of books.

"Puzzles," he repeats,
his voice a bit clearer.

Hanna's smile relaxes,
seeing his interest. "Yes,
puzzles," she says, holding
up the book. "They're like
fun little brain teasers."

Plankton nods, his hand
reaching out to touch the
book. Karen watches, her
heart racing. Will this
be another trigger?

But Plankton's gaze locks onto
the puzzle book, his eye
lighting up with curiosity.

Karen's heart skips a beat.
This could be good for him,
a way to focus his
whirling thoughts.

Hanna opens the book,
showing him a simple word search.
"See if you can find
the hidden words, Plankton,"
she says, her voice gentle.

His gaze scans the page,
his hand moving in time
with his eye. "Words," he murmurs,
his voice filled with excitement.

Hanna nods, her smile growing.
"That's right," she says, her
tone encouraging. "See if
you can find them all."

Plankton nods, his eye
quickly moving over the
page. Karen watches,
her heart swelling with hope.
This might be it, she thinks,
a new way to connect.

Hanna points to a word,
her voice soothing. "What's this?"

Plankton's hand moves over
the letters, tracing them.
"F-A-N," he reads, his
tone monotone. "Fan," he says,
his gaze flicking up to the
whirring object above.

Hanna laughs, misunderstanding.
"No, Plankton, not fan," she says,
pointing to the puzzle. "Find
the words that are hidden."

But Plankton's gaze remains on
the spinning blades. "Fan," he repeats,
his voice taking on a firm tone.

Hanna's smile falters, not
comprehending his 
meaning. "No, Plankton,"
she says, her voice still cheerful.
"Look at the puzzle."

But Plankton's gaze
doesn't waver from the fan.
"Fan," he says, his tone
firm, almost defensive.

Hanna's smile falters,
her cheerfulness waning.
"Plankton," she says gently,
"it's a puzzle, not about
the fan."

But Plankton's gaze remains
fixed on the fan, his
body tensing. "Fan," he repeats,
his voice firm, almost
defensive.

Hanna's smile falters,
uncertain of his meaning.
"It's just a puzzle, Plankton,"
she says gently, her voice
filled with misunderstanding.

But Plankton's tone sharpens.
"Fan," he insists, his voice
raised, his body tense.
"Fan spin, make quiet."

Hanna's eyes widen with
surprise, her smile slipping
away. "It's not about the
fan, Plankton," she says,
her voice still kind but
concerned. "It's about..."

But Plankton's voice cuts
through the air, his tone
sharp. "Fan spin," he says,
his hand moving in
erratic patterns. "Fan make
quiet. Fan important."

Hanna's eyes widen,
taking a step back. "I didn't
mean..." she starts, but
Plankton's agitation is
growing.

"Fan important," he repeats,
his voice echoing in the quiet
room. Karen's heart races as
she tries to defuse the
situation.

"Hanna, it's okay," she says,
her voice calm but firm.
"The fan is special to Plankton.
It helps him feel calm."

But Hanna's confusion
only grows. "It's just a fan,
right?" she asks, her voice
pitching with uncertainty.

Plankton's voice rises, his
hands flailing. "No!" he yells.
"Fan special! Make quiet!
Must spin!"

Hanna's eyes widen with shock,
her cheerful demeanor evaporating.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know,"
she stammers, taking a step back.

Plankton's voice echoes,
his frustration palpable.
"Fan special!" he yells,
his hands slashing the air.

Hanna's smile has disappeared,
replaced by a look of fear.
"I'm sorry," she whispers,
backing away slowly.

Karen's eyes are wide
with worry. She steps
between Hanna and Plankton,
trying to shield her friend
from his distress. "It's okay,
Hanna," she says, her voice
calm but firm. "Let's just
give him some space."

Hanna nods, her eyes
filled with apology.
"I didn't mean to upset him,"
she murmurs, setting the
puzzle book down on the
coffee table.

Karen nods, her gaze
on Plankton. "It's okay,"
she says softly. "He's just
overwhelmed."

Plankton's hands flap like
wings against his sides.
This is stimming, she knows,
his way of coping with
the sensory onslaught.

He rocks back and forth,
his gaze still on the fan.
Karen's heart aches as she
watches him, his body a
whirlwind of energy.

"Fan spin," he murmurs,
his hands fluttering like
butterfly wings. "Spin, spin."

Karen's eyes follow
his erratic movements,
her heart racing.

"Plankton," she says, her voice
calm and soothing. "Look at me."
He doesn't react, his gaze
still glued to the fan.

Karen approaches him,
moving slowly to avoid startling
his heightened senses. "Plankton,"
she repeats, her tone steady.

He doesn't react, his eye
still on the fan, his body
a flurry of movement.
Her heart racing, Karen tries again.
"The fan spins," she says, mimicking
his rhythmic speech.

Plankton's gaze flicks to her,
his body still. For a moment,
his movements cease.
"Spin," he whispers, his eye
searching hers.

Karen nods, understanding
his need for the fan's rhythmic
whirl. "It's okay," she says,
her voice a gentle melody.
"The fan will spin."

Plankton's gaze shifts
from the fan to the digital clock
on the mantle. His eye widens
as he sees the seconds tick by,
restarting each minute.
The numbers, stark and
precise, seem to call to him,
a silent symphony of order
in a world gone haywire.

Hanna looks confused, for
Plankton's gaze shifts to the
digital clock, the seconds
ticking away in a silent
symphony. His hands stop
their erratic movements, his
body stilling as he watches
the precise dance of the
numbers.

Karen sees his fascination,
the way his eye tracks
each second as it passes.
"It's okay," she says softly.
"The clock will keep going."

But Plankton's gaze doesn't
shift. His body is still,
his mind lost in the rhythm
of the ticking digits.

Karen watches, her heart
racing. She's read about
how some with autism
find comfort in patterns,
how the predictability
of something as simple
as a digital clock
can be a lifeline in a
world that's otherwise
so chaotic.

Hanna, however, 
doesn't understand.
Her eyes go to Plankton, her
confusion growing.

"Plankton," she says, her voice
still too bright, "it's just a clock."

His eye snaps to her, his
body rigid with tension. "Clock
important," he murmurs, his voice
a mix of anger and fear. "Numbers
change."

Hanna's smile fades, her eyes
widening with confusion. "It's
just a clock, Plankton," she says,
trying to placate him. But her
words only serve to stir his
distress further.

Plankton's eye darts from the
clock to Hanna, his breath
coming in quick bursts. "No,"
he whispers, his voice tight.
"Clock important. Numbers change."

Hanna's smile is gone, her
expression one of confusion.
"It's just a way to tell time,"
she says, her voice shaking.
But Plankton's agitation is
building, a storm gathering
behind his eye.

"No," he whispers, his hand
trembling as it points to
the clock. "Numbers change,
make brain quiet."

Hanna's eyes widen, her
understanding still elusive.
"But Plankton," she starts,
"it's just a way to keep track
of time."

But Plankton's gaze is
intense, his voice urgent.
"No, no, no," he says, shaking
his head. "Numbers change,
make brain quiet."

Hanna's voice rises, her
confusion thick. "But it's
just a clock, Plankton,"
she repeats, her words
falling on deaf antennae.

Plankton's body is tight
as a spring, his gaze
locked on the digital
dance. "No," he whispers,
his voice strained. "Numbers
make quiet, chronologically."

Hanna's eyes dart between
Plankton and Karen, her
confusion thick. 

new new reality hannacore vii

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS ix
(By NeuroFabulous)


The drive to the dentist was
silent, the tension in the air thick.
Plankton's antennae twitched,
his eye on the passing
scenery outside the window.

"You okay?" Karen asked,
her voice soft. She reached
over, her hand hovering.

Plankton's antennae quivered.
"Just... I'd prefer quiet, alone...
and no touching," he murmured,
his voice tight. "Please, for now."

Karen nodded, her hand
retreating to the steering
wheel. "Okay, Plankton," she
said, her voice gentle. "I'll
give you space.."

The car was a cocoon
of quiet, the hum of the
engine the only sound
to break the silence.
Plankton sat in the
passenger seat, his
body tense, his antennae
twitching slightly as
he took deep, shaky
breaths.
Karen knew her husband
was trying to prepare himself
for the possible onslaught
of the dentist's office.

When they arrived,
Karen parked the car and
turned to him. "Ready?"
she asked, her voice gentle.

Plankton's antennae
twitched, his gaze
darting to the bright
building ahead. "As
ready as I'll ever be,"
he murmured, his voice
barely above a whisper.

Karen nodded, her
expression understanding.
"Let's go, love," she
whispered, reaching for
his hand. But Plankton's
body tensed, his antennae
shooting up. "No touching right now,"
he murmured, his voice tight.

They approached the dental
office with slow, measured steps.
The bright lights and the smell
of antiseptic made Plankton's
antennas quiver, but he pushed
through, his gaze focused on
his wife's calming presence.

Inside, the receptionist's
cheery greeting was almost too
much for Plankton, his antennae
twitching erratically. 
The hum of the office was
a cacophony to his sensitive
ears, but he took deep breaths,
his gaze never leaving the floor.

Karen's voice is low and
soothing. "It's okay, honey,"
she murmured. "We're just
here for a quick check-up."

Plankton nods, his antennae
still quivering. They take
their seats in the waiting
room, the fluorescent lights
buzzing overhead. Each tick
of the clock echoes in the
silence, a stark contrast to
his racing thoughts. He focuses
on his breathing, in and out,
trying to calm his nerves.

Karen notices the way
his antennae twitch in
agitation, her hand hovering
close to his. But he shakes
his head, his gaze fixed
on the floor.

The wait seems eternal,
but finally, the hygienist
calls Plankton's name.
He stands, his antennae
quivering slightly. Karen
follows him into the room,
her eyes scanning the
environment for potential
triggers.

The hygienist, noticing
Plankton's discomfort,
speaks in a soft, even tone.
"Hi, Mr. Plankton," she says,
her voice calm. "I'm Rachel.
We're just here to check
on the teeth we saw
last time. So we're gonna
take another x-ray and compare
them, okay?"

Plankton nods, his antennae
still quivering. Rachel's gentle
touch as she leads him to the chair
is almost too much for him.
Karen can see the effort it takes
for him to stay still, his body
tense as a bowstring.

The sound of the x-ray machine
whirring to life makes Plankton's
antennas twitch.

"It's okay," Karen whispers,
her hand on his shoulder.
"It'll be quick, just hold still."

Plankton nods, his antennae
still quivering. Rachel
places the film in his mouth,
the cold metal sending shivers
down his spine. He closes his eye,
his breaths coming in short bursts.

Karen's hand rests gently
on his shoulder, her thumb
rubbing circles. She whispers,
"We've done this before," her voice
like a balm to his frayed nerves.

Plankton nods, his antennae
twitching slightly. Rachel,
the hygienist, notices his
discomfort and dims the lights
slightly. The sudden change
makes his antennae still, his
breathing evening out.

"Alright, Mr. Plankton," Rachel
says, her voice calm. "This won't
hurt a bit. Just keep still
and we'll be done in no time."

Plankton nods, his antennae
quivering slightly as Rachel
steps away to take the x-ray.
The room goes dark, the
machine's buzz piercing the
silence. Plankton's breath hitches,
his eye squeezed shut.

When Rachel returns, she's careful
to avoid sudden movements. "Alright,
Mr. Plankton, we're all done," she says,
her voice soothing. Plankton's antennae
still as he opens his mouth, allowing Rachel
to remove the film. He swallows hard,
his eye never leaving Karen's.

new chip on the shoulders shockfic ix

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

SHELF IMPROVEMENT vii
(Autistic author)

Gently, she helped 
Plankton to his feet. He 
swayed slightly, his legs 
weak from the seizure. 
"Let's go to your room,"
she suggested, her 
arm around his waist.

They moved slowly, 
his steps cautious. Karen 
could feel his tension 
easing as they left 
the chaos of the living 
room behind. Plankton 
was still silent, 
twitching slightly with 
every new sound they 
encountered.

In the quiet of 
his bedroom, Karen 
helped him sit on the bed. 
"Rest," she said softly. 
"You're safe here."

Plankton nodded, 
his antennae drooping. 
"Safe," he mumbled.

Karen felt a 
wave of protectiveness 
wash over her as she 
tucked him into bed, 
his small frame looking 
even more vulnerable 
than ever. She 
knew she had to speak 
to Chip, to explain 
everything.

With a heavy heart, 
she made her way to 
his room. The door was 
ajar, and she could see 
his form huddled 
on his bed, tears 
staining his screen. 
He looked up as she 
entered, his eyes red 
from crying.

"Chip," she began, her 
voice gentle. "I need to 
talk to you about 
Dad."

Chip sniffled, 
wiping his screen with the 
back of his hand. "What's 
wrong with him?" he 
asked, his voice 
hoarse with emotion.

Karen sat on the 
edge of his bed, 
taking a deep 
breath. "Dad's had 
a bit of an accident, 
sweetie," she began. 
"He's okay, but he's 
going through 
something called 
autism. He'll have it
for the rest of his
life, yet we're still
finding ways to
manage.."

Chip's eyes widened 
in shock, and he 
swiped at his 
tears. "What's 
autism?"

Karen took a 
deep breath, 
preparing to explain. 
"It's like a different 
kind of brain wiring, 
Chip. Sometimes, 
it makes things 
that seem simple 
to us really hard 
for Dad to understand 
or do."

Chip's brow furrowed 
in confusion. "Does 
that mean he won't be 
the same?"

"No, it doesn't mean 
he won't be the same 
person," she said 
gently. "But it does mean 
that we'll have to 
make some changes 
to help him feel 
comfortable and safe. 
Dad will need extra patience, 
and we'll have to learn 
new ways to communicate.
He still has memories of his
life before, though."

Chip looked at 
his mother with 
uncertainty. "How 
can we help him?"

Karen took his hand 
in hers, feeling the 
warmth of his small 
fingers. "Well, Chip, 
we have to be very 
understanding," she 
explained. "Dad might 
react differently to 
things now, like 
noises or touch."

Chip nodded, his 
expression earnest. 
"So I can't hug him 
like that anymore?"

"Not like you did 
just now," she said. 
"But we'll find ways to 
show love without 
overwhelming him."

Chip nodded with 
newfound determination. 
"Okay," he said, his voice 
small. "I'll try."

Karen felt a 
surge of pride. Despite 
his young age, Chip 
was showing a maturity 
beyond his years. "That's 
my brave boy," she said, 
squeezing his hand. "Good
night.."

new shelf improvement neurodivergentcore vii

CHIP IN MY BOX ix
(Autistic author)


Plankton's eye focuses on
her, his hand clutching hers
like a lifeline. "Karen?" He
whispers, the fog of confusion
slowly lifting. His voice is
weak, but the recognition is
there, a spark in the vast
ocean of his overwhelmed
mind.

Karen's breath hitches,
relief flooding her body.
"Yes, it's me," she murmurs,
her voice a gentle tide washing
over him. "You had a hard
time, but you're okay now."

Plankton's hand clutches hers,
his grip tight, his reality
slowly coming into focus.
The velvet curtain is lifted
gently, his eye blinking in
the soft light. His gaze
finds hers, and for a
moment, it's just the two
of them, a silent promise of
support and understanding.

"I... Dr. Kelp? Chip?" He
blinks.

Dr. Kelp nods, his tentacles
still busy placing the
sensory items. "We're all here,"
he says, his voice calm. "You're
safe."

Plankton's gaze moves to
Chip, who's been watching
silently from the side, his
face a mask of fear and hope.
"Chip?" He says, his voice
weak. The boy nods, his eyes
shimmering with tears.

"I'm here, Dad," he whispers,
his voice trembling. "I'm sorry."
The words hang in the air,
a silent apology for his
carelessness.

Plankton's eye locks onto Chip,
his grip on Karen's hand
weakening as he tries to
sit up. His mind is still
a tangled web of confusion. 
"What happened?"

Karen's voice is a gentle
current, guiding him back
to reality. "You had a
reality break," she says,
avoiding the harsher terms.
"It's okay, we're here."

Plankton's gaze shifts
between them, his mind a
whirlpool of questions and
half-forgotten moments. He
swallows hard, the lump
in his throat a reminder of
his vulnerability. "I'm sorry,"
he says, his voice barely
more than a whisper.

Chip's eyes are wide, his
heart racing as he watches
his father struggle. He wants
to say something, anything,
but his throat is tight with
fear. "It was an accident,"
he croaks out finally, his voice
small. "I didn't mean to."

Plankton's eye narrows slightly,
his expression a mix of
pain and confusion. "What
did you do?" He asks, his
voice a thundercloud of
emotion.

Chip's eyes fill with tears,
his guilt a heavy weight.
"I knocked over your box,"
he admits, his voice barely
a whisper. "I didn't know."
The words hang in the air,
a confession that feels like
a betrayal.

Plankton's gaze is a
stormy sea, his emotions
a tempest of anger and hurt.
He looks at the shards of
his sanity scattered on the
floor, a silent accusation.
The room seems to spin around
them, a maelstrom of his
swirling thoughts.

"You broke it," he says,
his voice a thunderclap of
disappointment. The words hit
Chip like a tidal wave, drowning
his guilt. "You broke my box."

The room seems to shrink,
the air thick with tension.
Karen's eyes dart between
them, a silent plea for
understanding. "It was an
accident," she says, her voice
soft. "Chip didn't know."

Plankton's eye is on Chip,
his gaze intense. He
swallows hard, the reality
of the situation crashing
over him. "Why?" He whispers,
his voice a raw wound.

Chip's chin trembles, his
eyes brimming with tears. "I
just wanted to see," he
whispers back, his voice
tiny and scared. "I didn't
know it was so important."

Plankton's expression
softens, the storm clouds
of anger parting to reveal
his own fear, his chest
heaving with the effort
of controlling his emotions.
"I know," he says, his
voice a gentle rumble. "I'm
just... tired." He looks at the
new box.

Karen's eyes fill with
sympathy, her hand reaching
out to touch his shoulder.
"You don't have to explain,"
she whispers. "We're here."
Her words are a balm to
his soul, a gentle reminder
that he's not alone in his
journey.

new chip in my box chip plankton ii ix

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

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS vii
(By NeuroFabulous)


"Chip," he began, his voice
cracking. "I have something
important to tell you."

Chip leaned forward,
his heart racing. "What is it,
Dad?"

Plankton's antennae
twitched again, his eyes
meeting his son's with a
meld of love and apprehension.
"I'm autistic," he said, his
voice barely above a whisper.

Chip thought back to what his mom
had told him about his father's
unique way of being born, and
how it had affected his brain.

He remembered the awe in
his mother's voice as she recounted
the story of Plankton's
birth, the way she'd
spoken with a mix of wonder
and sorrow. It was a lot to take in,
but it made him feel closer to
his father somehow.

"Dad?" Chip's voice
was tentative, his hand
still hovering over
his father's arm. "What's a...
coffin birth?"

Plankton's antennae
stilled, his eye flicking
to Karen's. She gave a
tiny nod, understanding
the need for honesty.

"It's a rare event, Chip,"
Plankton began, his voice
steadier now. "It's when a
baby is born after their
mother has... passed away."

Chip's eyes searched his
father's, trying to make
sense of the words. "But how?"

Plankton took a deep
breath, his antennae
flattening slightly. "The
doctors had to be... quick,"
he said, his voice filled
with awe. "They knew I was
still alive, and they did
everything they could to get me
out."

Chip's eyes grew even
wider, his imagination
running wild. "But Dad,
how does that even work?"
he whispered, his voice filled
with wonder and horror.

Plankton took a deep
breath, his antennae
twitching slightly. "It's... it's a
difficult thing to explain,
Chip," he said, his voice
strained. "But basically,
when a mom's body isn't
alive anymore, but the baby's
heart is still beating, the
doctors do an emergency
procedure to get the baby out."

Chip's eyes were like
saucers, his mind racing.
"But how is that possible?"
he whispered, his voice
barely audible.

Plankton sighed, his
antennas drooping slightly.
"The doctors try to induce labor
in mum's body after she...
after she's gone," he said,
his voice strained with the
difficulty of the memory.
"It was a delicate process,
and not always successful. In
my birth, there was a moment
where my brain didn't get enough
oxygen," he murmured. "When I
was still inside mum."

Chip's unsure
how to react. "And
how'd it give you autism?"

Plankton's antennae
twitched again, his gaze
dropping to the bed. "Well,
it's something that
can happen when a baby's brain
doesn't get enough oxygen
during birth, Chip," he said,
his voice quiet. "It's like
a... hypoxic-ischemic event.
It can lead to... complications.
For me, it was autism."

Chip nodded, his hand
still hovering over his
father's arm. "But how did
your mum... die?" he asked, his
voice barely above a whisper.

Plankton's antennae
drooped further, his gaze
going distant. "It was an
accident," he murmured. "Her
heart... it just stopped.
Bled out, the doctors said."

Chip's hand hovered
over his dad's arm,
his mind racing with the
implications. "But why?"

Plankton took a moment,
his antennae flicking slightly.
"It's complicated, Chip.
My mum... she had a rarity.
Her heart was
weak, and it couldn't handle
the stress. It went undiagnosed
back then."

Chip's hand hovered
still, his heart breaking
for his dad. "But Dad,
why didn't anyone know?"

Plankton's antennae
twitched, his gaze going
to the floor. "They did,
eventually," he murmured.
"But by then, it was too late.
My mum was gone."

Chip's eyes filled with
sympathy, his hand
resting on the bed. "I'm
sorry, Dad," he whispered.

Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly, his gaze meeting
his son's. "It's okay, Chip.
It's not something you
could've known. I obviously
didn't know her to well, but
thank you."

Karen was glad to see
them connecting. "So
Chip, you can ask us
questions if you want."

Chip looked from Karen
to Plankton, his curiosity
piqued. "Dad, is there
anything you really hate
that makes you have these...
shutdowns?"

Plankton's antennae twitched
nervously, his eye darting
between them. "Well, Chip,
it's not always just one thing. It's
mostly like... a buildup.
Loud noises, too many people,
bright lights," he listed off.
"They can all make it
harder for me to focus, to
filter out the extra stuff
my brain's taking in."

Chip nodded, his eyes
never leaving his dad's face.
"What about touch?" he asked,
his voice tentative. "Does it
bother you?"

Plankton's antennae
twitched, his gaze flicking to
Karen's comforting hand.
"It depends," he said slowly.
"Some days, I crave it. Other
days, it's too much."

Chip nodded, his mind
racing. "What about hugs?"
he asked, his voice hopeful.
"Does it help you feel better?"

Plankton's antennae
quivered, his eye searching
his son's face. "Sometimes,"
he said, his voice tight. "But
not always."

Chip nodded, his
hand still hovering. 
"Can I... ca--"

Plankton's antennae shot
up, his eye widening. "No!"
The suddenness
of his reaction made
Chip's hand jerk 
back, his eyes
wide with shock.

"I'm sorry, buddy,"
Plankton said, his voice
softening as he saw the
fear in his son's eyes.
"It's just that, sometimes,
hugs are too much. I need...
space, like I told you. But only
if I know they're coming, and
only from people I trust. I'm
still recovering right now."

Chip's hand hovered in the
air, unsure of what to do.
"Can I... I don't know, maybe
just pat you on the shoulder?"
he asked, his voice hopeful. But
Plankton shook his head.

"No, Chip," he murmured. "I do
not want my shoulders to be
patted. That's too much."

Chip nodded, his gaze
on Plankton's. "How about a
high five?" he asked, his
hand still hovering.

Plankton's antennae
twitched slightly, his eye
narrowing as he considered
his son's question. "Maybe,"
he murmured. "But only if
you're gentle."

Chip nodded eagerly, his hand
slowly descending towards
his dad's hand. He hovered
for a moment, his heart racing.
Then, with all the gentleness
he could muster, he tapped his
father's hand with his fingertips.

Plankton's antennae
twitched slightly, but
his eye remained focused
on Chip's. "Good job,"
he murmured, his voice
a quiet praise. "That was...
perfect."

new chip on the shoulders childbirthcore vii

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY ix
(By NeuroFabulous)

Karen stepped in, her voice
calm but firm. "Chip, let's give
your dad some space," she said,
placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"He needs time to process this."

Chip nodded, his eyes
filled with a mix of sadness
and understanding. He looked
at Plankton one last time, his hand
still hovering in the air. Plankton's
antennas were still quivering, but his
eye had softened slightly. It was a
small gesture, but it spoke volumes.

He stepped back, allowing Karen
to lead him out of the room. As the
door clicked shut behind them, Chip
couldn't help but feel a sense of failure.
He had wanted to bridge the gap
between them, but instead, it felt like he had
only driven it wider. Chip couldn't shake
the image of his dad's antennas, a silent
language of pain and anger. He knew
he needed to learn to understand
these subtle cues, to navigate the
complex world of his father's autism.

In the quiet hallway, Chip
swiped at his eyes, trying to
comfort himself with the knowledge
that Plankton's outburst wasn't
personal. It was just his brain's way
of coping with the overwhelming emotions.
But understanding didn't make the hurt
any less real. He looked up at Karen,
his eyes pleading. "What do we do?"

Karen's expression was a mix
of sadness and resilience. "We
give him space," she said firmly.
"He needs to come to terms with
his feelings in his own way."

Chip nodded, his eyes still
on the closed door. "But what if
he doesn't want me around?" he
asked, his voice trembling.

Karen took a deep breath, her
hand rubbing his back in gentle
circles. "Your dad loves you, Chip,"
she assured him. "He's just scared
that you'll never truly understand
him." She paused, her gaze
thoughtful. "But you can show him
that you're willing to try."

They walked down the
hallway, leaving Plankton's room
behind them. Chip felt his heart
heavy in his chest, the weight
of his father's pain pressing down
on him. "How?" he asked, his voice
small. "How do I show him?"

Karen squeezed his
shoulder. "You just do," she said,
her voice filled with a quiet
strength. "You learn about autism,
you learn about his likes and
dislikes, and you listen to him."

He had wanted to make his father
happy, but instead, he had pushed him
away. He sat down on the couch,
his shoulders slumped.

Meanwhile, Plankton remained in
his room, his antennas drooping as
his thoughts raced. He felt the weight
of their conversation, his chest
tight with the effort of keeping
his emotions in check. He eventually
goes out to find Chip and Karen in
the living room.

"Chip," he said, his voice
shaky but determined.

Chip looked up, his eyes
red-rimmed and hopeful. Plankton
stood in the doorway, his antennas
slightly less rigid than before. Karen
nodded encouragingly, giving him a gentle
push forward.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Chip
said, his voice thick with emotion.
"I didn't mean to upset you."

Plankton's antennas twitched,
his gaze drifting to the floor.
"I know," he murmured. "But you
have to understand, it's not easy."
He took a deep breath, his
body visibly relaxing. "I don't mean
to push..."

Karen stepped in, her voice
soothing. "Why don't we all do
something we enjoy?" she suggested.
"Maybe something that won't
overwhelm?"

Chip's eyes lit up at the
thought. "Yeah, like what?"

Plankton took a moment, his
antennas moving slightly as he
thought. "How about a trip?"
he suggested, his voice tentative.
"Drive to the beach. It's quiet and
calming."

Chip's face lit up with excitement.
"The beach?" He hadn't been in ages,
and it was one of Plankton's favorite
places. "Yes, let's do that!"

Karen gave Plankton a warm
smile. "That's a great idea,"
she said, her voice filled with relief
and gratitude.

In the car, the tension slowly
began to dissipate as the ocean
air filled the vehicle. Chip sat in the
back, fidgeting with his seatbelt.
"Dad, I want to ask you something,"
he said, his voice tentative.

Plankton turned in his seat, his antennas
twitching with curiosity. "What is it?"
he asked, his voice a little softer
than before.

Chip took a deep breath, his
heart racing. "I just want to know
what I can do to help," he said,
his eyes earnest. "What do you like?"

Plankton's antennas moved slightly,
a sign that he was processing the
question. "Well," he began, his voice
still tight with emotion, "I like it
when you're patient with me."

Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving
his father's profile. "Okay," he said,
his voice small. "What else?"

Plankton's antennas moved slightly
as he thought. "I like it when you
ask before you touch me," he said.
"And when you respect my need for
quiet sometimes." His eye flickered
to the side, looking at Chip. "And
I like it when you don't try to change me."

Chip nodded, his eyes filling
with tears. "I'll try, Dad," he said,
his voice earnest. "I'll always
ask, and I'll always love you just
the way you are."

new a plankton family story NeuroFabulous ix

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

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