𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 24 "Come to steal the formula again, have ya?" Krabs asks, his grip on the cash register tight. Plankton's eye widens, his lie evident. "N-no!" he says, his voice shaking. "I just- I just came for a visit!" But Krabs' gaze is thoughtful, his mind spinning with the knowledge he gained the night before. "Well, Plankton," he says, his voice gruff but not unkind. "Why don't we have that chat?" Plankton's antennae twitch, his body tense. "Chat?" he repeats, his mind racing. Krabs nods. "Sure," he says. "Let's go to me office." He leads the way, his heart pounding. Plankton follows, his eye lingers on the Krabby Patty. "W-what do you w-want to talk about?" Plankton stammers as they enter the office. Krabs sighs, sitting behind his desk. "Look, Plankton," he says, his voice gruff but sincere. "I know it's hard for ye to understand, but sometimes, people have things they can't control." Plankton's eye widens, his grip on the chair arm tightening. Plankton's expression is a mix of fear and confusion. "What are you playing at?" he asks, his voice shaky. Krabs leans back, his expression serious. "I'm not playing at anything," he says. "I just... I want ye to know that I get it now." Plankton's antennae quiver, his eye darting to the Krabby Patty formula safe behind glass. "Get what?" Krabs sighs, his hand rubbing his chin. "Your... situation," he says, avoiding the word 'autism' for fear of upsetting his rival. Plankton's body stiffens, his gaze snapping to Krabs. "What do you mean?" he asks, his voice sharp. Krabs clears his throat, his eyes flicking to the formula behind the glass. "I mean," he says, his voice gruff, "that I know ye got challenges. And I ain't gonna make fun of ye for it." Plankton's expression remains guarded, his antennae twitching rapidly. "What's gotten into you?" he asks suspiciously. "What challenges? What do YOU know?" Krabs looks at him, his eyes serious. "I know you're unique, Plankton," he says. "And I know that sometimes you do things that don't make sense to me, or to anyone else." He pauses, his voice gentle. "But I promise you, I'll try to underst--" Plankton's eye narrows. "Unique?" he says, his voice laced with sarcasm, when Squidward opens the office door. "A customer wants to 'speak with the manager' apparently," he says as said customer enters the office. Squidward leaves the room, closing the door. But Plankton recognizes the guy. And his breath hitches. The customer's one of Plankton's professors when he attended college long ago. One of his most ableist teachers he's had! And the teacher recognizes Plankton as well. "My burger is lukewarm and I... Sheldon Plankton what are you doing here?" Plankton's antennae quivered as he stood up, his face flushing a deep red. "I-it's a coincidence," he stuttered. "I-I just came for a Krabby Patty." His voice was shaky, a stark contrast to his usual bravado. The professor's gaze was cold, his arms crossed over his chest. Krabs' eye twitched. He could see Plankton's distress, but he couldn't let him lie right now. "Plankton," he said, his voice firm. "What's going on?" The teacher's eye darted between the two, sensing the tension in the air. Plankton's lie was evident, his eye darting around nervously. "I-it's nothing, Mr. Krabs," he said, his voice higher than usual. "Just a misunderstanding." Krabs raised an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering. "I'm sure it's more than that," he said. The professor's stare was like a spotlight, exposing his lie. "You never understood anything when I had you in my class," the professor said, his tone icy. Plankton's throat tightened, his heart racing. "I-I've changed since then," he said, his voice small. "I-I've learned?" The professor's smile was cold. "Is that so?" he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "Then tell me, what's the Pythagorean theorem?" Plankton's eye went blank, his mind racing. "Proves my point." He says. The room felt smaller, the air thick with tension. Krabs watched, his fists clenching. He'd never seen Plankton so... vulnerable. The professor's gaze was like a knife, slicing through Plankton's already fragile defenses. "Why do you keep pushing?" Plankton whispered, his voice shaking. The professor's smile was cruel. "Because you know your place isn't here," he said, his voice deliberately harsh. "You never belonged." Plankton's body trembled, his antennae waving erratically. "But I've changed," he repeated, his voice strained. "I have a family no-" The professor scoffed. "A family?" He leaned closer, his eyes bore into Plankton's. "How do you think they'd feel knowing they've been fooled by a profoundly severely mentally re--- being like you, whom Neptune himself has cast as—" Krabs snaps, his claws slamming down on the desk. "That's enough!" he roars, his voice thunderous. The professor jumps back, his smug smile wiped clean. "What did you call him?" Krabs asks, his eyes blazing. Plankton's gaze flits to Krabs, shocked. The professor sneers. "I called him what he is," he says, his voice cold. "A mistake." Krabs' fist clenches, his eyes never leaving the professor's. "Get out," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "Get out of me restaurant. I don't want your kind here." Plankton's eye widens. "K-Krabs?" The professor laughs, his eyes cold. "You're defending him?" he asks. "After al-" But Krabs cuts him off, his voice like steel. "I'm defending a man, a man who's had to fight harder than anyone I know just to be understood." Plankton's antennae perk up slightly, his face a mask of shock. "Apologize," Krabs says, his eyes narrowed. The professor's smile dwindles, his gaze shifting from Krabs to Plankton. "I... I'm sorry your parents decided to keep you," he says, his voice dripping with condescension. Plankton's face falls, his eye filling with hurt. Krabs' claw shoots out, his grip on the professor's collar tight. "You'll leave now," he says, his voice deadly calm. "Or I'll show you the exit meself." The professor sputters, his face reddening. "You can't-" But Krabs cuts him off. "I can, and I will." His eyes are hard as diamonds. "Get out." Plankton watches, his heart racing. He's never seen Krabs this protective over him. The professor's eyes widen, his arrogance faltering. He quickly leaves the office, his cheeks burning with humiliation. Krabs looks at Plankton. "He had no right to speak to you like that. You're not a mistake, you're a fighter. And I'm sorry, for not seeing that sooner. Now, I gotta get back to counting me money. You go on and get some rest; take care.." Plankton nods before running back home.

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE (by NeuroFabulous) 𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 🕊️🩰🐚 Pt. 8 Chip took another step back, his own emotions a tangled mess. Guilt, fear, and confusion battled within him as he watched his dad's pain. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean to make yo--" "I SAID STOP!" Plankton's voice was like a whip crack, slicing through the air with frustration. Chip flinched, the force of his dad's anger palpable. "Dad," he began, his voice shaking, "I just-" "JUST?" Plankton spat, his eye blazing. "You just don't get it, do you?" His words were sharp as knives, each one cutting deeper into the silence. "You think you can just... touch me, hug me, and it'll all be fine?" He sneered, his body trembling with the effort to control his emotions. "Well, it's not that simple, is it?" Chip's cheeks burned with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. "I'm sorry," he said stiffly. "I didn't know it was such a big de-" "Don't tell me what I know, boy!" Plankton snapped. His voice was a whipcrack of sarcasm, each word a stinging rebuke. "I've been doing this dance my whole life, and now you think you can make me your little science project?" Chip's eyes filled with hurt, his hand dropping to his side. "That's not what I'm doing," he protested, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I just want to he--" "Want to help?" Plankton interrupted, his tone dripping with bitterness. "You think I need your help? Your pity?" His antennae twitched with anger. "I've managed just fine without you!" His voice was a storm, his words thunderous in the silence of the room. "So don't you dare act like you get to be part of this now!" Now Chip felt his own emotions flare up. "What the barnacles is your problem?" Chip snapped, his frustration boiling over. "You're always so... so sensitive. Can't I just show you that I love you without you throwing a fit? Don't you know that you're just being ridiculously over- dramatic? I can't have a father who's so autistic and so..." He trailed off, his eyes searching for the right word, and then it hit him; the slur is a term he'd heard use to describe someone acting unsmart, not knowing the impact it would have. The moment the insult left his lips, the room went cold. Karen gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth. Plankton's body went rigid, his antennae shooting straight up as if electrified. Chip felt a sinking feeling in his gut, like he'd just swallowed an anchor. He knew he'd crossed a line, but he didn't know where it was or how to get back. "Dad, I didn't mean-" "GET OUT!" Plankton roared. Chip had never seen his dad like this, his eye blazing with fury and hurt. He stumbled backwards, his heart racing as he tried to make sense of the horror on his dad's face. "I didn't know," he murmured, his voice small and lost. Karen's eyes were wide, her cheeks wet with tears. She'd heard the word, the one that cut deeper than any knife. The one that reduced her Plankton to a joke, a problem to be solved. "That's enough," she said, her voice firm but trembling. "You've hurt him enough, Chip." Chip's eyes were filled with shock, his mind reeling from his dad's reaction. He didn't mean to say it, didn't even know it was bad. "But I just..." He couldn't find the words. "I didn't know it was... I just wanted to tell him..." Karen's voice was firm, but underneath, Chip heard the sorrow. "Your dad's autism isn't something to be fixed," she said, wiping at her own tears. "It's part of who he is. And calling him that... it's like telling him that part of him isn't good enough." Plankton was still in his corner, his body taut with tension. Chip felt the weight of his mother's words, the gravity of his mistake. He'd hurt his dad, the one person he never wanted to cause pain. "I didn't mean it like that," he whispered. But Plankton was beyond words, his body trembling with rage. He'd been called that name before, by those who didn't understand, who didn't care. His antennae quivered with the effort to hold back the storm of emotions threatening to unleash. Karen stepped between them, her hand on Chip's shoulder. "Out," she said firmly, her voice a whip of authority. "Now." Chip didn't argue. He knew he'd done wrong, and he knew his place wasn't here right now. He turned and left the room, his heart heavy with regret. As the door clicked shut, the tension in the room didn't disappear. It grew thicker, like a fog that clung to their skin, suffocating them both. Karen sat next to Plankton, her hand hovering near his shoulder but not making contact. She knew better than to push, to force him to face his pain. Instead, she offered silent support, her presence a beacon of love in the storm. Plankton's body was a tight coil of anger and hurt as he rocked back and forth. "Plankton," Karen said softly, her hand still hovering. "I know we're upset, but Chip's just trying to understand. He didn't mean to be ableist." Her words were met with silence; she didn't push. The room felt like it was spinning around him, the words echoing in his head. He knew his son hadn't meant to wound him, but the sting was there all the same. "Why can't he just leave me alone?" Plankton whispered, his voice small and defeated. "Why does he have to make everything about him?" Karen's eyes filled with understanding. "It's not about him, Plankton," she said gently. "It's about love and connection. He just doesn't know how to give it in a way that doesn't overwhelm you." Her hand touched his shoulder lightly, and he flinched. She withdrew it immediately, her heart aching. "I know, I know," he murmured, his voice tight. "But it hurts." Karen nodded, her own eyes brimming with tears. "I know it does," she said. "And I'm so sorry." Plankton leaned into her, his body still shaking. "Why can't he just get it?" he whispered, his antennae drooping. "Why does he have to make everything so hard?" Karen wrapped her arm around his shoulders, holding him close. "Because he loves you, Plankton. And he's scared of losing you." Plankton's body stiffened at her words. He knew she was right. Chip had always been like that, so eager to please, so desperate for attention. And Plankton had always been there for him, his rock in a stormy sea. But now, the tables had turned, and he didn't know how to navigate these uncharted waters of vulnerability. Plankton took a deep breath, his antennae drooping. "I know," he murmured, his voice thick with unshed tears. "I know he loves me." Karen's grip tightened around his shoulders. "Then we need to find a way to help him understand," she said, her voice a soft caress. "We need to show him that love doesn't have to be loud or overwhelming." They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the steady rhythm of their breathing. Plankton's body began to relax, his tremors subsiding. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I just... I don't know how to do this." Karen leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "We'll do it together," she said. "One step at a time." Chip stood outside the door, his fist pressed against the wood. He could hear their muffled voices, the low tones of their conversation. He felt like a stranger in his own home, unsure of how to navigate the sudden shift in his relationship with his dad. His mind raced, trying to piece together what had gone wrong, how he'd missed the cues. He knew he'd hurt his dad, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than just a misunderstanding. He didn't realize how the ableist slur he'd used had pierced Plankton's armor. He leaned his head against the door, his breaths coming in short, painful gasps. The weight of his ignorance was like an anchor, dragging him down. He'd always thought of his dad as... well, his dad. Strong, capable, a little quirky. But now, he saw the cracks in that facade, the raw vulnerability beneath the surface. He knew he had to apologize, but the fear of making it worse held him back.

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE (by NeuroFabulous) 𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 🕊️🩰🐚 Pt. 9 "Dad?" Chip's voice was tentative, a question in the silence. He didn't know if Plankton could hear him, if he was ready to listen. But he had to try. Plankton didn't move, but his breathing had evened out, his antennae no longer quivering with anger. Karen gave Chip a small nod, a silent message to tread carefully. He took a step into the room, his eyes never leaving his father's hunched form. "Dad, I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. "I didn't know... I didn't mean to..." The words trailed off, his throat thick with unshed tears. He didn't know what to say, but he knew he had to try. Plankton's body remained motionless, his antennae drooping. Karen watched them, her heart in her throat. "Dad, I didn't mean it," Chip whispered, his voice trembling. "I didn't know." Plankton's shoulders tensed, the anger still a living force within him. Karen watched the scene unfold, her heart in her throat. She knew this was a moment that could change everything, a chance for growth or a chasm that widened their divide. Plankton's silence was a walls, a barrier that seemed impenetrable. His antennae twitched, a silent language that spoke volumes of his pain. Chip felt the weight of his dad's disgust, like a lead balloon in his stomach. "Dad, I'm sorry," he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do better." He stepped closer, his hand outstretched. But Plankton didn't move, his body a statue of anger and hurt. His antennae remained rigid, his eye unblinking. "I don't want your pity," he spat out, the words a slap in the face. "I don't want you to 'do better'. I want you to go away." Chip's hand fell to his side, his eyes wide with shock. The silence was a living entity in the room, a beast that fed on their pain. Karen could almost see the barrier between them grow taller, thicker, more impenetrable. "Dad," Chip whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm sorry for saying you're so... so... autistic and slow. I didn't mean it like that." The apology hung in the air, a desperate plea for understanding. But Plankton remained motionless, his antennae still drooping with the weight of his hurt. "It's not enough," he said, his voice hollow. "Words don't change what you think of me." Chip felt a stab of guilt, knowing his dad was right. He'd used his autism as a weapon, not knowing the depth of the cuts it could make. "What do you want me to do?" Chip's voice was desperate, his hands reaching out in a silent plea for forgiveness. "I ca--" Plankton's head snapped up, his eye blazing. "You want to know what I want?" His voice was a whisper, but it felt like a shout. "I want you to see me," he said, his antennae trembling. "Not my autism, not my stims, not some problem to be solved. Me! Now get out!" The words were a knife to Chip's heart, but he knew his dad was right. He'd reduced his entire being to a slur, a label. Chip took a step back, his heart racing. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice tight with unshed tears. "I didn't mean it." But the damage was done. The room felt like it was closing in around him, the air thick with the scent of his own shame. Plankton's antennae twitched, his body a rigid line of anger. "You think you can just apologize and make it better?" he spat, his voice a whipcrack of pain. "You think it's that easy?" Chip's eyes searched his dad's, desperate for a spark of forgiveness. But all he saw was hurt, a deep wound that he'd unintentionally inflicted. "I don't know what to do," he admitted, his voice shaking. "I just want to be there for yo-" "No," Plankton interrupted, his voice like a shattered mirror. "You don't want to be here for me." He couldn't even bring himself to say the slur, the pain too raw, too fresh. Chip felt his throat constrict. "Dad," Chip's voice was small, his eyes brimming with tears. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that was such a... a big deal." He didn't know what else to say, his mind racing to find the words that could mend the gaping wound his ignorance had created. But now Karen's feeling her own anger rising, fury at Chip's ignorance. "Chip, the only thing that's autistic and mentally reworded here is your understanding!" she snapped, the words slipping out before she could catch them. The moment they're in the air, she freezes, realizing what she's just said, the same slur a stinging slap that echoed in the tense air. She regretted them immediately, seeing the hurt flash across Plankton's face. Plankton's antennae drooped even further, the weight of his wife's words adding to his own pain. "K-Karen," he murmured, his voice thick with sadness and shock. Karen's face crumpled with regret. "Plankton, I didn't mean--" But Plankton was already backing away from her. Karen felt the sting of her own words, the cruel cut of her frustration. She reached out for Plankton, but he was already retreating, his eye filled with a mix of hurt and betrayal. "Plankton," she whispered, her hand hovering in the space between them. He flinched, his antennae quivering. The room grew smaller, their love shrinking under the weight of their mistakes. Plankton's eye searched hers, looking for something she couldn't give: absolution. "I'm s-sorry," she said, her voice shaking. "I didn't mean it-t." But the damage was done, a fresh wound to add to his collection of scars. Karen watched as Plankton's body retreated. She knew that look, the one that said he was shutting down, retreating into his own mind. "Plankton, please," she begged, her hand still outstretched. "Let me he-" But Plankton was already gone, his body a statue of sadness and fear. The room felt like it was closing in on him. He could barely breathe, his heart racing like a caged animal's. Karen's touch, once a source of comfort, now felt like a threat, a promise of more pain. "Plankton," she whispered. But he was beyond gentle whispers. His antennae twitched, his body braced. He couldn't look at her, couldn't bear the accidental harm. He felt the room spinning, his thoughts of anger, fear, and confusion. Her hand hovered near him, but it might as well have been a mile away. The love and comfort he'd always found in her touch now seemed like a looming specter, threatening him. Karen watched him, her own eyes tearing up with regret and sadness. "I-I'm sorry," she whispered, the words a futile offering to the storm. But Plankton couldn't hear them, not when all of his own emotions drowned out everything else. He felt the floor beneath him, the solidity of the world around him. But it wasn't enough. He needed to retreat, to find a space where he could breathe. He stumbled back into the corner. Karen's hand hovered near him, a silent apology. But he couldn't look at her, not yet. The sight of his wife, the woman who knew him better than anyone else, the one who should have understood, was too much. Her touch, once a balm for his soul, was now a potential minefield of pain. He felt her eyes on him, a silent plea for forgiveness. But he was to scared to give it.