Marla Emojis & Text

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 18 Karen moves quietly. She gently shakes him. "Plankton, wake up," she whispers. "The therapist." Plankton's antenna twitches, his eye slowly opening. "Oh, right," he mumbles, his voice groggy. "He usually comes over when Chip's at school or someth-" Plankton startled at a knock on the front door, the sensory therapist arriving for the session. Chip follows his parents to open the door. The therapist, a calm and kind octopus, enters the room, her arms filled with toys and devices. She smiles warmly at Plankton. "Good morning," she says. "And who's this young man I see?" She looks at Chip. Chip smiles shyly. "Our son Chip," Karen said, introducing her son. "He's here to learn too." The therapist nods, her eyes understanding. "It's important for everyone to understand, isn't it?" she says, her voice gentle. Karen turns to Chip. "So Chip, this is Dr. Marla." "Hello," Dr. Marla says, coming in to the living room. "I've known your father and worked with him for ages. Let's all sit on the living room floor." Chip nods, his heart racing. This is the first time he's met someone who's known his dad's secret. He sits down next to Plankton, who's now fully alert as they all sit in a circle. Dr. Marla opens a bag filled with various sensory toys. "Plankton," she says, her tone gentle, "I assume your son has learned about your condition. How'd that come about?" Plankton's antennae twitch slightly. "It was an accident," he says, his voice a mix of embarrassment and resignation. "But it led to... to a good discussion? It was when he saw me having one of my seizures.." Chip looks down at his hands, feeling his cheeks grow warm as he remembers that moment. Karen's hand finds his, giving it a squeeze. "It's okay," she whispers. "You can talk about it. Now is the time to ask, Chip." Dr. Marla nods. "And how has that affected your father and son relationship?" She asks. Chip looks up, his eyes meeting hers. "It's... it's different," he says. "But in a good way, I think." He glances at Plankton, who nods in agreement. "I've learned so much about his... his autism. And I know now that he's not just being mean, sometimes." Dr. Marla nods, her expression gentle. "That's important," she says. "It's about understanding and compassion. Now, I'd like to ask if there have been any mishaps with said relationship?" Plankton's antennae droop, his eye flicking to Karen. "Well," Karen says, "There was the time Chip tried to be supportive, yet he accidentally used a slur.." The therapist nods sympathetically. "It's a learning process," she says, her tone reassuring. "Missteps are common when navigating new understandings." She glances at Chip, her expression encouraging. "But it's how you apologize and move forward that shows growth. May I ask what slur wa-" "It was just a... a silly thing I said," Chip interjects, his voice small. "I didn't kno—" "It's okay," Dr. Marla interrupts, her eyes kind. "We're here to learn together. What was the slur?" Chip swallows hard. "I... I called him a ret-" he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just saw him acting..." Plankton's antennae twitch, his gaze dropping to the floor. Karen's grip on his hand tightens slightly, a silent reassurance. "It's okay," she whispers. "You didn't kn-" But Plankton's anger surges up, cutting her off. "No, it's not okay!" he snaps, his voice sharp. "I can't believe you said it, again!" His eye narrows, and he pulls his hand away from Karen's grasp. Chip shrinks back, his heart racing. He's never seen his dad so upset with him. "Dad, I'm sorry," he stammers. "I really di-" But Plankton isn't listening, his antennae thrashing. "How could you?!" he yells. "After everything we talked about!" His voice is loud, echoing in the small room, and Chip flinches. Karen's eyes dart between her husband and son, her heart breaking for both of them. She knows Plankton's anger is a defense mechanism, a way to cope with his pain. But she also knows the pain Chip is feeling, the guilt and fear of losing his dad's trust. "Plankton," she says, her voice calm, "Let's talk about this with Dr. Marla; she's he--" "No!" Plankton shouts, his eye wide with rage. He stands up, his fists clenched as he grabs a pillow, throwing it across the room. Karen flinches as the pillow hits the wall, but her voice stays calm. "Plankton, sweetie, let's breathe." But Plankton's in his own world, his autism exacerbating his reaction to the painful word. He's spinning, his antennae thrashing as he searches for something, anything to release his anger. "Dad," Chip whispers, his voice trembling. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" But Plankton's in the throes of his tantrum, his body moving erratically. He grabs a book from the shelf, tossing it across the room. Karen jumps up, intervening before anything else can fly. "Plankton," she says firmly, her voice a steady force in the storm of his anger. "Look at me. Look at me," she repeats, her hands up, palms out. "Just br-" But Plankton isn't calming down, his eye wild, kicking a chair over. Dr. Marla approaches them. "It's okay, Plankton," she says calmly. "Your feelings are valid. But right now, let's find a better way to express them." She holds out a fidget toy, her voice steady. "Remember, this can he-" But Plankton's anger has taken over. He swipes at the toy, sending it flying. He then moves to a shelf, his hand grabbing a picture frame. It hits the floor. "No!" Karen yells, but it's too late. Dr. Marla approaches Karen and Chip. "See, this is the anger," she says, her voice calm and understanding. "It's common with autism. He's feeling overwhelmed and doesn't know how to express it. This is Plankton's autism flaring up, and this is Plankton's way of dealing with it. This is Plankton's way of saying, 'I'm in pain, and I need help.' Plankton is angry, yes, but he's also scared."

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 19 Dr. Marla gestures to the corner of the room, where there's a calming space set up specifically for times like these. "Let's go over there," she suggests, her voice calm and soothing. But Plankton's rage is like a tornado, spinning him in circles. Karen tries to guide him gently, but he shrugs her off, his body tight with tension. Chip's eyes are wide with fear, watching his dad's outburst. He's seen his father's temper before, but not like this, not with such unbridled fury. Plankton's movements are jerky, his face distorted with anger and pain. His breaths are quick, his eye unfocused. Karen moves closer, her voice still calm. "Let's go to this calming corner, sweetie," she says. But Plankton's rage doesn't abate. He throws another pillow, knocking over a lamp. The room is a mess, a reflection of the turmoil within him. "Dad, please," Chip whispers, his voice shaking. He's never seen his dad like this, his usually stoic facade crumbling into a chaos of emotions. Plankton's body jerks, his limbs flailing as his anger escalates. He knocks over a table, his eye unseeing as his senses overload. Karen moves quickly, trying to guide him to the calming corner, but he resists. "Dad, please," Chip pleads, his voice trembling. But Plankton's anger is uncontrollable, knocking over furniture, his eye filled with a mix of fury and fear. The therapist's calm demeanor remains. She knows this is part of his condition, and she doesn't flinch as a book flies past her. "Plankton," Karen says, her voice firm but gentle, "we need to—" But Plankton isn't listening, his rage consuming him. He grabs another pillow, squeezing it tightly. His eye darts around the room, searching for an outlet for his anger. "Daddy, no!" Chip whispers, his voice shaking. His heart is racing as he watches his father, his hero, fall apart. Chip tries to intervene, but Plankton swats his hand away, his movements wild. "Dad," Chip says, his voice louder, more urgent. "Please, let's talk!" But Plankton can't hear him, his mind lost in his emotions. He throws the pillow, watching it soar through the air before it slams into the wall, the feathers exploding out. The room is a whirlwind of movement and noise, and Chip can't help but flinch with every crash and smash. Karen's eyes are wide, her face pale. She's seen this before, but it never gets any easier. Plankton's breaths are coming in quick gasps, his body trembling with the effort of containing his emotions. He throws his head back, letting out a scream that echoes through the room, his antennae whipping around. Karen's heart is in her throat, but she knows she has to stay calm. "Plankton," she says, her voice steady. "Come to the corner, please." She holds out a hand, but Plankton's too far gone to see it. He throws another book, his screams filling the room. Karen's heart is racing, but she keeps calm. "We're here for you," she repeats. Yet Plankton's rage continues to build, his movements more erratic. The therapist watches, ready to step in if needed. "It's okay," she says soothingly. "Let's all stay calm and sa-" But Plankton's meltdown reaches a crescendo. He stumbles. Chip's eyes widen in horror as his father's body jerks uncontrollably. So Chip gets the box of all the sensory items and brings it out. But that ends up being a huge mistake. Plankton's flailing ends up kicking, sending every thing flying, everything slamming into the wall, the plaster cracking. The destroyed sensory box and unfixable items are what breaks the straw on the camel's back. His eye rolls back in his head, his body going slack. Karen gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. "Plankton!" she cries out, catching him as he falls. Chip jumps forward, his fear turning to dread. But the sensory therapist has seen it all before. "Let him down gently, his body and his brain have just decided to take a break." "But he's not moving," Chip cries, as Karen lowers Plankton. Dr. Marla opens her bag. "It's okay," she says calmly, her voice steady. "This is called a shut- down. His body has simply had enough. But I've got some new stuff for him. I'll show you as I set it up."

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 20 Dr. Marla opens her bag, pulling out an extending rod black out curtain. "It kinda looks like a shower curtain, but these curtains muffle sound and block light." Karen nods, her eyes on Plankton's still form. "We've tried things before, but this is new." Dr. Marla nods. "We're always learning, aren't we?" She unfurls the curtain around Plankton, creating a small, cozy space. "This will help him feel safe and reduce his sensory input. It's good for absence seizures too." Plankton's breathing slows as he sinks into the curtained cocoon. Dr. Marla continues. "It's like you power off a tablet to restart, and it will gradually come back on, right? That's what Plankton's doing. And as he 'reloads' he might act like a newborn seeing the world for the first time as he wakes up. Meaning he might not recognize anything, speak incoherently, etc. Plankton might take a little while to fully come back. Like a file downloads it loads info little by little until it's finished, only then can you view it; so as with Plankton's consciousness." Karen nods, her eyes never leaving her husband. Her heart aches for him, but she knows that he's safe, his body cocooned in the sensory curtain. Chip, still shaking, watches his dad, his eyes wide as Plankton's eye blinks open. His gaze is as if he's trying to relearn his body. "K-kay?" Karen smiles softly, her voice gentle. "It's okay, sweetie," she says, her hand reaching for the curtain. "Your dad's just restarting, remember?" Chip nods, his eyes glued to Plankton's form as he sits up, his eyes blinking slowly. "Hi," Chip whispers, his voice barely above a breath. Plankton's eye focuses on him, and his mouth moves, but only one word comes out: "Hi." It's a tiny victory, but Chip feels a surge of relief. He knows his dad is okay, or at least on his way back to okay. Dr. Marla nods. "It's normal for someone coming out of a shut- down to speak in single words or not at all for a while." Karen strokes Plankton's antenna. "How do you feel?" she asks softly. Plankton's gaze is vacant, his voice weak. "Sedm." Chip looks at him confused, his heart racing. "Dad?" The therapist nods. "It's normal," she says. "After a shut-down, his words may come slowly. Give him space, let him come back to us." Plankton blinks, his eye unfocused. "Mm." It's all he says, his mouth moving slightly, as if tasting the air for words. Karen nods encouragingly. "Good job," she murmurs. "You're doing great." Chip feels like he's watching a newborn learn to speak again. The therapist sits beside Plankton, her voice calm. "Would you like a new fidget toy?" "Buth," he mumbles, his eye still glazed. His brain isn't comprehending. Karen nods, her hand gently taking the toy. "It's okay," she says, her tone soothing. "You just need to relax." Plankton takes the fidget toy, his hand shaking. He clutches it, his gaze unseeing. Chip sits cross- legged, his heart pounding. He watches his dad, his mind racing. Why is he like this? He's so smart, so capable, but right now, he seems so... lost. "Thuh..." Plankton whispers. Karen nods, her voice soft. "Take your time," she says. "We're not going anywhere." Chip nods, his throat tight. "I'm here," he says, his voice barely a murmur. Plankton's hand shakes, his grip on the fidget toy loosening. His eye blinks rapidly, his mind trying to come back online. "Ba-back?" he whispers, his voice tiny. The therapist, Dr. Marla, sits back, her eyes assessing. "It's normal," she repeats. "Your brain needs a moment to recalibrate." Plankton's breathing slows, his body uncurling from its defensive ball. He takes the fidget toy, his hand trembling. Karen's heart aches as she watches her husband struggle to find words. Chip's eyes are wide with concern, but he doesn't interrupt, giving his dad space. "Th-the... hash?" Plankton says, his voice barely a whisper. The therapist nods. "Good," she says. "Keep going." Plankton's hand shakes, the fidget toy clutched tightly. "Doge." Karen smiles gently. "Yes, you're getting there," she says. Chip watches, his heart in his throat. "Toy?" Plankton says, his voice a little stronger. Dr. Marla smiles. "Yes, the toy is helping," she says. "Keep playing with it." Plankton nods, his hand moving slightly as he flips the fidget toy in his hand. "Yea," he whispers. Chip watches his dad, his own hands still. He's seen Plankton in tough situations before, but never like this. It's like his mind is a computer that's been hit by a virus, trying to reboot with only basic functions. "Dad," he says, his voice filled with longing. "Can you tell me what yo-" But Plankton's gaze remains unfocused, his mouth moving slightly. "Chip," Karen says, interrupting gently. "Give him a minute, okay?" Chip nods, his eyes still on his father. He doesn't want to leave, but he understands. He sits back, his heart racing as he watches Plankton's slow progress. Plankton's hand moves, the fidget toy spinning in his grip. "Good," he murmurs, his voice a little stronger. "Home." The word is a relief, a sign that he's coming back to them. Karen smiles, her eyes filled with love and concern. "Would you like to sit up?" she asks, her voice soft. Plankton nods, his body moving in slow motion as he sits. The curtain is still up, creating a small, safe space for him. Chip watches, scared, but he's also in awe of his dad's strength. Plankton, his hero, who's faced so much and is still here. "D-dad," he says, his voice shaking. "You okay?" Plankton's eye flicks to Chip, his mouth opening slightly. "Yeahhh." It's a simple word, but it feels like a lifeline. "Need?" he whispers, his voice strained. Karen nods, her hand still on his back. "We're here," she says, her eyes never leaving him. "We're always here for you." Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye focusing a little more. "Th-thank," he stammers. Chip feels his heart swell with love. He's still in there, his mind just needs to recalibrate.

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 21 The room is quiet, except for the soft whir of the fidget toy. Plankton's breathing evened out, his eye focusing on the spinning discs. "More?" he asks, his voice a whisper. Karen nods, her heart swelling with pride. "You're doing so well," she says, her voice gentle. "We're here for you." Chip's eyes are wet, but he nods in agreement. He wants to hug his dad, but he knows Plankton needs his space right now. Plankton's hand shakes as he holds the fidget toy, his gaze fixed on it. "Ma-more?" he asks again, his voice still a whisper. Dr. Marla nods, reaching for a weighted blanket. "Let's try this," she suggests, her tone calm. Karen helps drape it over him, the heavy material grounding him. "Ma-make it," he says, his voice slightly stronger. Chip's heart leaps at the sound. "Make what?" he asks, his voice eager. But Plankton can't quite articulate. He just shakes his head, his eye squeezed shut. "M-make," he repeats, his frustration clear. Karen nods, her hand on his shoulder. "We know you can," she says. "Ma-make it st-sto-" He stammers, his body trembling with the effort of speech. "Ma-make it stop," he whispers, his voice breaking. His gaze meets Chip's, desperation in his eye. Chip looks up at the therapist, his eyes pleading for guidance. "What do we do?" Dr. Marla nods, her expression calm. "Just keep talking to him," she instructs. "Use simple words, and let him know you're here." So Chip does, his voice softer than ever. "Dad, we're with you." Karen's eyes are wet, but she smiles encouragingly. "You're doing so good," she says, her voice barely above a murmur. Plankton's hand clutches the blanket, his breath coming in quick gasps. "Ma-make," he says again, his voice strained. "Ma-make it sto-" Karen nods, her voice soothing. "You're doing so well, sweetie," she says. "Keep going." Chip watches, his eyes filled with hope. "Ma-make it qui-et," Plankton whispers, his body still trembling. The therapist nods, understanding. "Let's turn down the lights," she suggests, her voice calm. Karen nods and moves to the switch, the room plunging into a soft glow. "Ma-more?" Plankton whispers. "Ma-make it qui-et," he repeats, his hand flapping slightly. Karen's heart aches, but she nods. "We're here," she says, her voice steady. Chip looks around, his thoughts racing. "How- how do we do that?" he asks, his voice shaking. Dr. Marla smiles gently. "Just talk to him," she says. "Keep your words simple, and use a sensory toy to help." So Chip picks up a small, squishy ball, its surface covered in bumps. "Dad," he says, his voice soft. "Look." Plankton's eye sluggishly turns to the toy. "Ball," Chip says, his voice clear. Plankton's gaze flicks to the therapist, then back to Chip, his mouth moving slightly. "Bah," he tries, his voice barely a whisper. It's a start, a tentative step forward in understanding. The therapist nods. "Good," she says. "Keep trying." Plankton's hand reaches out, his grip weak. Chip places the ball in his palm, and his dad's eye light up slightly. "Bowl," he says, his voice a little stronger. It's a simple word, but it feels like a breakthrough. Chip nods, a smile spreading across his face. "Ball," he repeats, his voice encouraging. "Ball," Plankton says, his tongue wrapping around the word slightly. "Ball." It's a small victory, but it's enough to make Chip's heart soar. He picks up another toy, a plush octopus. "Dad, look," he says, his voice trembling. "Octo." Plankton's gaze shifts, his antennae twitching slightly. "Ah- pple," he says, his voice confused. "No," Chip says gently, taking the octopus. "This is octo. Octo." He shakes it slightly, the legs flailing. "See?" Plankton's eye widens slightly, his mouth forming an "o." "Ah- tto," he whispers. It's not perfect, but it's a start. Karen's hand squeezes his shoulder. "Good job, Plankton," she says, her voice filled with relief. The therapist smiles, her eyes observing them both. "Keep going," she says. "This is great progress." Chip holds up the octopus closer to him. "But-but," Plankton murmurs. Karen smiles. "You can do it." Plankton's hands are still, his gaze locked on the octopus. "Octo," Chip says again. Plankton's eye blinks slowly, his mouth moving. "Ah-tto," he tries again, his voice slightly louder. Chip's heart skips a beat. "No," he says gently. "Octo." He waves the toy in front of him. "Octo." Plankton's antennae twitch, his mouth forming the word. "Octo," he repeats, his voice stronger. Chip can't help the grin that spreads across his face. "Good," Dr. Marla says, nodding. "Keep working together." Karen's hand squeezes Chip's shoulder, pride in her eyes. Plankton holds the octopus, his hand still shaking. "Ma-make it sp-spin?" he asks, his voice hopeful. Chip nods, his hand steady. He spins one of the octopus's arms. "Spin," he says. Plankton's eye follows the spinning arm, his gaze focused. "Spin," he whispers, his tongue working the word. "Spin." His voice grows stronger, the word becoming more than just a sound. "Spin," he says, his hand tentatively reaching for an arm. "Mo- re," he whispers, his hand reaching out. Karen smiles encouragingly. "Good job," she says. "Keep talking to us." Chip nods, his heart racing. He holds up another toy, a shiny spinner. "Dad," he says, his voice hopeful. "See this?" Plankton's antennae twitch. "Spin?" he asks, his voice a question. "Yes," Chip says, his voice steady. "Spin." He flips the spinner, watching the colors blur. Plankton's eye follows the movement, his mouth opening slightly. "Clis," he whispers, his voice barely audible. Karen smiles, her eyes shining. "Keep going," she says. "You're doing so well." Chip nods, his hand steadier. "Dad, watch," he says, his voice filled with hope. He picks up a small, plush star, its material soft and comforting. "Look," he says, his voice clear. "This is star." Plankton's eye flicks to the toy, his hand reaching out. "Sta," he tries, his tongue sluggish. Chip nods, his heart racing. "Yes," he whispers. "Star."

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 22 Karen watches, her eyes glistening. "Keep going," she says, her voice filled with admiration. Plankton fumbles with the star, his hand shaking. "Sta," he whispers again, his voice stronger. "Sta." The therapist smiles. "This is excellent," she says. "Keep up the good work." Chip's eyes are on his dad, his mind racing with ideas for more words. "D-dad," Chip says, his voice gentle. "Look at me." Plankton's gaze shifts to Chip, his eye unfocused. "Look at me." Plankton's eye narrows slightly, his antennae twitching. Karen's hand strokes his shoulder. "Come back to us," she says. "Ma-make it... Ma-make it... qui-et?" he whispers. The therapist nods. "Good job," she says, smiling. "Keep focusing on the toy." Chip holds the star closer. "This is... star," he says, his voice calm. Plankton's eye follows the toy, his hand reaching out. "Sta," he murmurs. "Yes," Karen says, her voice soothing. "It's a star." Plankton's hand closes around the star, his grip firm. "Sta," he repeats, his voice growing stronger. Chip feels his heart swell with hope. He picks up a small, plush dolphin. "Dad," he says, his voice clear. "Look." Plankton's gaze shifts, his hand still shaking. "Dolf," he says, his voice slurred. Chip nods. "Yes, it's a dolphin. Can you say dolphin?" Plankton tries, his mouth moving slightly. "Dolf," he whispers. Chip's face lights up. "Yes," he says, his voice filled with excitement. "Dolf." The therapist smiles, seeing the progress. "Keep it up," she says. "You're both doing wonderfully." Plankton's hand clutches the dolphin, his gaze unfocused. Karen's heart aches, but she knows this is a step forward. "You're doing so good," she says. Chip nods, his eyes on his dad. "More?" he asks. Plankton's eye flicks to him, his mouth opening slightly. "Ma-make?" he whispers. Karen's hand squeezes his shoulder. "What else would you like?" Plankton's hand shakes, the dolphin dropping to the floor. "Ma-make it... K-Karen. Neeeed Karen!" Karen's eyes fill with tears, but she smiles, her voice gentle. "I'm right here," she says, moving closer. "Yo--" Plankton's body jerks slightly, his gaze shifting to her. "Ka," he whispers, his voice a plea as tears stream down his face. Karen's heart breaks, but she smiles. "I'm here," she says, her voice a lifeline. "Karen," he repeats, his hand reaching out but not recognizing her. Karen takes his hand, her eyes never leaving his. "You're okay," she whispers, her voice soothing. "I'm right here." Plankton's eye lock onto hers, his tears falling harder. "Karen," he says again, his voice a desperate whimper. Chip watches, his heart wrenched. He's never seen his dad like this, so vulnerable and lost. He picks up the dolphin, his hand trembling. "Dad," he says, his voice gentle. "This is do-" But Plankton's cry interrupts him, his body trembling. "Karen!" he sobs, his hand reaching for her. Karen takes his hand, her eyes filled with love. "You're right here," she whispers. "I'm right here with yo-" But Plankton's cries grow louder, his grip on her hand tightening. "Karen! Need Karen!" His eye is wild, his body shaking uncontrollably. Karen's heart aches as she tries to calm him, her voice steady. "You have me," she says. "I'm right here." But he's lost in his own world, his fear overwhelming his senses. "Karen," he sobs, his voice breaking. Chip's heart is in his throat, his hands clutching the dolphin toy tightly. He's never seen his dad so desperate, so lost. The therapist, Dr. Marla, watches them, her eyes knowledgeable. "It's okay," she says, her voice calm. "This is part of the process." But Chip can't help feeling helpless, his mind racing to find a way to reach his dad. Karen's eyes never leave Plankton's as she speaks to him gently. "You have me," she repeats, her voice a lullaby. "I'm right here." Plankton's grip on her hand is crushing, his sobs becoming more desperate. "Karen! Ka- ren!" he cries, his body wracked with tremors. Karen's eyes fill with determination. "I know you're scared," she whispers. "But I'm here. You're sa-" Her words are cut off by another sob from Plankton. Chip feels his heart tear in two, watching his father's agony. "Dad," he says, his voice shaking. "We're here." But Plankton's gaze remains unfocused, his mind lost in a whirlwind of overstimulation. Karen's eyes are wet, but she keeps talking, keeping her voice steady. "You're okay," she says, her hand stroking his back. "You're safe." Plankton's body convulses, his cries escalating. "Karen!" he wails, his voice raw. "Need Karen!" The therapist nods at Karen, her gaze compassionate. "Keep going," she whispers. "This is a breakthrough." Karen's voice is a beacon in the storm. "You have me," she repeats. "You have us." Plankton's cries turn into sobs, his body convulsing with the force of his emotions. Karen's hand remains steady on his back, her heart breaking for him. "You're okay," she soothes, her voice a gentle wave of comfort. "We're right he--" But Plankton's panic doesn't abate. "Karen!" he cries out, his voice shattered. "Need Karen!" Chip feels his own tears burn his cheeks as he watches his father's pain. "Dad," he whispers, his voice trembling. "You're not alone." But Plankton's eye is wild, his mind a tempest of fear and overwhelming stimuli. Karen leans in, her face close to his. "Look at me," she says, her voice firm but gentle. "You're safe with me." Plankton's gaze shifts, his sobs quivering his body. "Safe? If with Karen safe.." Karen's hand moves to his cheek, her thumb wiping away a tear. "Look at me," she says again, her voice a soft command. "You're okay."

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 23 Plankton's sobs echo through the room, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. "Karen," he whispers, his voice hoarse. Karen's eyes are wet, but she holds his gaze, her voice a lifeline. "I'm here," she says, her hand steady on his cheek. "You're safe." Plankton's breath hitches, his eye flickering with recognition. "Safe," he repeats, his voice a mere breath. The therapist nods encouragingly, her eyes on the two of them. "Keep going," she murmurs. "You're getting through to him." Karen's eyes never leave Plankton's. "You're safe," she repeats, her tone soothing. "You're with me, and Chip." Plankton's sobs slow, his body still trembling. "Wi-with me," he whispers, his hand tightening on hers. The therapist nods, smiling slightly. "Good," she says. "Keep it simple." Karen nods, her voice steady. "You're okay, Plankton," she says. "We're right here." Plankton's breathing hitches, his body slowly calming, when Krabs barges in. Krabs hadn't seen his rival Plankton much so he thought perhaps Plankton's up to some thing big. "Alright, funny business; where are ye-" But then he sees the scene before him as Plankton once again slips into a shut-down, his body going limp in Karen's arms. Chip's eyes widen with fear, the room spinning. "Dad!" he cries. "It's okay," Dr. Marla says. Krabs freezes, his eyes taking in Plankton's state. "What in Neptune's name is goin' on here?" his voice gruff, but concerned as he never knew of Plankton's neurodisability. Karen's gaze meets his, her voice steady. "It's a sensory overload," she explains. "When his mother was to give birth, somehow his head got stuck. It was nobody's fault, just a tough delivery. But it caused his brain structure to develop differently. When he got stuck, the lack of oxygen and blood flow, along with pressure, affected the way his neurons connect. And some parts of his brain just couldn't handle the stress, dwindling and pretty much depleted the resources that were allocated for his senses and social skills." Krabs' eyes widen, his usual grumble replaced with a rare moment of sympathy. "So that's why he's always been... Neptune." he says. Karen nods, her expression calm but sorrowful. "It leads to moments like what you're seeing right now," Dr. Marla explains. Krabs looks at Plankton, his eyes filled with a mixture of shock and remorse. "But he always seemed so... I'll leave ye alone." He leaves with a heavy heart. Chip wipes at his own tears, feeling a weight lifting. "Dad," he says, his voice shaking. "You're okay." Plankton's breathing slows, his grip on Karen's hand loosening as he rubs his eye, finally coming back to them. Plankton looks around, his gaze confused. "Huh?" he murmurs. Karen nods, smiling through her tears. "You're okay," she says again. "You had a big moment, but you're safe now." Plankton's eye finds Chip, and his expression relaxes slightly. "Where," he says, his voice still weak. Karen's voice is soft. "You're at home," she explains. "Dr. Marla is gonna get going, but you gotta new box of sensory items!" She says, deliberately leaving Mr. Krabs’s discovery out. They all knew he won't take it lightly. Dr. Marla leaves, and Chip smiles, his eyes shining. "You're all better," he says, his voice filled with relief. Meanwhile, Krabs went to his own home feeling quite conflicted with new found knowledge of Plankton's autism. He'd always seen his rival as a mere annoyance, a pebble in his otherwise smooth existence. But now, he couldn't shake the image of Plankton's desperate sobs and his own lack of understanding. Krabs sat in his dimly lit bedroom, thoughts racing as he stared at the wall. He'd never known Plankton's struggles went so deep, that his brain was wired differently. It made sense now, the way his rival would react to things dramatically. The way he'd just bluntly speak his mind. He'd just thought Plankton was weird, but now, he knew better. The next day, Krabby Patty's sales were booming, but Krabs' mind was elsewhere. He thought of what Karen told him about Plankton's birth and his autism. It was a lot to take in, but he couldn't decide how to interact whenever Plankton next comes around. He knew Plankton has no idea that he found out. As he counted his money, his heart felt heavier than the gold coins. He'd always seen Plankton as a nuisance, a constant thorn in his side. But now, he saw a different side to him. A side that was struggling, a side that was just trying to navigate a world that wasn't made for him. Krabs sighs, his thoughts deep. He knew he couldn't bring himself to mock Plankton anymore, yet he knew Plankton might be suspicious if he suddenly acts any different than their usual competitiveness. He decided to keep his newfound understanding to himself, for now, but his interactions could be more considerate. Moments later Plankton, obviously oblivious to the shift in Krabs' demeanor, attempts to steal the Krabby Patty secret formula. Krabs, still deep in thought, catches him mid-sneak by the cash register as the cashier, Squidward, read some magazine. Plankton's antennae perk up as he's caught. "Mr. Krabs," he stammers, his eye darting around. "Just... just popping in for a... uh...chat?" Plankton lied, his usual bravado apparent. Mr. Krabs looks at his rival, his expression unreadable. "Oh, I see," he says, his voice calm. Plankton didn't notice the subtlety of Krabs’s tone being a bit nicer.

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 25 Once home, Plankton collapses onto his bed, unsure of how to process the day's events. His mind spins with the professor's cruel words and Krabs' unexpected defense. He'd never felt so... seen. So understood, even by his sworn enemy. So conflicted? Tears stream down his face as he clutches his favorite pillow. Karen finds him later, her eyes softening at his distress. "What's wrong?" she asks, sitting on the edge of the bed. Plankton takes a deep, shaky breath. "Krabs," he says, his voice barely a whisper. "He... he was nice to me.." Karen nods, her hand reaching out to his. "Okay," she says. "It'll be fine." Plankton's eye widens slightly. "Wait, what?" Plankton asks her. "What do you mean? It's not like he knows I'm autis–" But Karen cuts him off, her voice firm. "I told him," she says. "I thought it was time he knew." Plankton's body goes still, his heart racing. "What?" he repeats, his mind racing. Karen nods. "During Dr. Marla's visit he came in and saw you having a seizure so I explained how your birth was tough and it affected yo-" Plankton pulls away, his body tense. "You told Krabs?" he says, his voice shaking. "Why would you do that?" Karen's expression is calm, but her eyes are filled with sorrow. "Because," she says, "he's seen it and asked me wh-" But Plankton can't hear her anymore, his mind reeling. He sat up in his bed. "Get out," he whispers. "I-I can't... I can't have you in here right now." Karen's eyes widened, her hand hovering in midair. "Wh-" But Plankton's voice is firm. "I need to be alone." Karen nods, her eyes brimming with tears. "Okay," she says softly. "But if you need me-" Plankton turns away, his antennae drooping. "I just... need space." Karen nods, her heart aching. "I don't want you upset with me, Plank-" He cuts her off, his voice shaky. "It's not you," he says. "It's just... a lot. I'm disappointed that you told him, but I understand why. I just need to be by myself." Karen's throat tightens, but she nods. "Okay," she whispers, standing with her palms open. "Can I---" But Plankton's antennae wave frantically. "No, please. Just go." His voice is desperate, his eye pleading. Karen's heart breaks into a million pieces, but she nods, stepping back. "If you need anything," she says, "anything at all---" But Plankton is not in the mood. "I SAID to leave me ALONE!" Karen's eyes widen at his outburst, his voice sharp, a stark contrast to the softness that usually laces his words when with her. But she knew that he's not angry at her, but his own situation. She nods, her throat thick with unshed tears. "Ok," she says, her voice small. "I'll be out here if you need me." She closes the bedroom door. Plankton's sobs fill the room, his body shaking with the force of his emotion. He's never felt so alone, so exposed. He pulls his knees to his chest, his pillow damp with his tears. And it makes Karen's heart ache even more, knowing she's the one who told Krabs. Karen sits outside the door, hand hovering over the wood, wanting to go in, wanting to comfort him, but she knows he needs space. She's seen this before, the way the world can overwhelm him, crushing him under its weight until all he can do is withdraw into his own little bubble. Inside, Plankton talks to himself, his words tumbling out in a rush, his voice a mix of anger and sadness. "Why did you tell him?" he whimpers, his antennae quivering. "Why did you tell him?" He stims, his hands flapping in front of his face, his eye squeezed shut. "It's not your fault," he murmurs. "It's not your fault." The words are a mantra, a desperate attempt to convince his racing mind. He knows Karen meant well, but the knowledge feels like a betrayal. "It's not your fault," he repeats, voice growing soft, eye squeezed shut. "I can't help it." His voice cracks. "It's not my fault," he repeats, antennae twitching. "I just see things differently." He rocks back and forth. "But Krabs... Krabs was nice," he whispers, his voice filled with wonder. "Why?" he asks his reflection in the mirror. "Why now?" His eye is wet, his voice shaky. "Why now?" He whimpers it again, his stims increasing. Outside, Karen can't help but listen, her heart in her throat. Her hand is poised to enter, but she knows better. Plankton needs this moment alone, to process the tumultuous storm of emotions. She closes her eyes, her hand dropping to her side. Inside, Plankton's stims grow more intense, his breaths shallow. "It's not your fault," he whispers. "Krabs is just... confused." He flaps his hands, his body rocking faster. "Why did you tell him?" His voice is a mix of anger and desperation. "Why did you have to tell him?" His stims are a comfort, a way to self-regulate, to make sense of the chaos that's overwhelmed him. He opens his eye, his gaze unfocused as he stares at the wall. "But he was nice," he murmurs. "He said I'm not a mistake." He pauses, his hand stilling. "Maybe he sees me now, maybe it's just pity," he says, his voice harsh. He resumes his stims, his thoughts racing. His antennae twitch, his mind trying to process the kindness from his enemy. "But why?" he whispers. "Why now?" His body rocks back and forth, his hand flapping in rhythm. "It's not your fault," he repeats. "It's not your fault." He grabs a favorite sensory toy, a soft, squishy ball, and squeezes it tightly as he rocks. The pressure is comforting, helping him to think. "He was always mean," he mumbles, his voice a whisper in the quiet room. "But today... today he saw me," he says loudly, his voice cracking. "He saw me." He throws the ball against the wall, watching as it bounces back. "But why?" he asks his reflection again. "Why now?" The ball hits the floor with a soft thud, and he sighs, his hands stilling. "It's not your fault," he whispers. "But he knows now." His eye blinks rapidly, trying to focus on the wall. "He knows and he still... he still talked to me. Maybe he's just confused," he says to himself. "Or maybe he just felt sorry for me." His voice is flat, his movements mechanical. "But why now?" he asks the wall. He leans back, his hand still clutching the pillow. "But he knows," he whispers. "He knows now." His antennae twitch, his mind racing. "What does it mean? What does it mean?" he repeats, his voice a little louder. "What does it mean for me?" More tears roll down his face. "But he saw me at my weakest." His body shakes with sobs. "He saw me at my lowest," he whimpers. "And he didn't laugh. He was... nice." His voice cracks on the last word, his fist tightening around his pillow. "Why?" he cries out. "Why now?" The room is silent except for his ragged breaths and the quiet thump of his pillow against the bed frame. "It's not your fault," he reminds himself, his voice a mere whisper. "It's not your fault," he repeats, his body stilling slightly. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, his antennae drooping. "But why now?" he asks his reflection, his voice cracking. "Why did it take this for him to see me?" He squeezes his eye shut, trying to keep the tears at bay. "Why now?" his voice is barely audible. He's lost in his own thoughts. "It's not your fault! But what if it is? No," he says. "I'm not."

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) pt. 5 Karen saw the flicker in Plankton's eye that signaled his return to the present. She then motioned for Chip to back up. Plankton let go of the bear, his gaze flitting around the room as if searching. Karen wiped the drool from his chin. "Welcome back," she whispered, her voice calm and soothing. Plankton's eye met Karen's screen. "I'm here," she said, her own voice thick with relief. "You had another seizure, but it's over now." Plankton nodded slowly, his antennae drooping as he tried to piece together what had happened. The fog in his mind was lifting, but the weight of his emotions remained as he looked over to Chip. Chip's eyes met his, full of uncertainty. "Dad," he began, but his voice trailed off as Plankton's eye flickered with recognition. Chip's own eyes lit up with relief and hope. Plankton's antennae slowly raised, his gaze focusing on his wife and son. "I remember," Plankton said through gritted teeth. The memory of Chip's innocent yet hurtful word stung. "He said I was... 'slow'. He said it!" The anger in his voice was palpable, his antennae quivering with agitation. Karen's heart ached for her husband's pain, but she knew that anger was a part of his post-seizure frustration. She approached the bed, her voice calm but firm. "Plankton, Chip didn't mean it that way. He's scared and confused. He doesn't know how much that word can hurt." Plankton's antennae trembled with anger. "But it did!" he exclaimed. "It does!" His voice grew louder, no longer slurred. Karen's eyes searched his, understanding the pain he was feeling. "I know you're upset," she said gently, "but let's talk about thi—" "Talk?" Plankton spat, his body tensing with rage. "How can I talk to him after what he said?" The words echoed in his mind, a cruel reminder of his fears. Chip took a step back, his heart racing. He hadn't meant to cause such pain, but the look on his dad's face was unmistakable. He had hurt his hero, the one person he looked up to more than anyone else. "Dad, I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice shaking with emotion. "I really didn't kn-" But Plankton was beyond hearing apologies. His antennae were a blur with rage. "You think I'm 'slow'?" he roared, his voice echoing in the small room. "You think that's all I am?" His words were sharp as knives, cutting through the tension. Chip felt the sting of his father's anger, his screen filling with tears. "No, Dad, that's not what I mea-" But Plankton's rage was a force unto itself. "How dare you!" he yelled, his voice shaking the walls. "After everything I've done for you.." Tears spilled from his single eye, his antennae quivering uncontrollably. "How could you say that?" he sobbed, his voice breaking with pain. Chip's eyes were wide with shock and fear at the sight of his father's distress. He hadn't really seen Plankton cry before, and the raw emotion was overwhelming. Plankton's sobs were deep, his antennae shaking wildly as he wept into his pillow. Karen stood at the side of the bed, her heart breaking as she stroked his back. Chip watched, feeling his own eyes burn with tears. "I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice small. "I didn't know. I won't say it ever ag-" But Plankton didn't seem to hear him, lost in his own grief. His sobs grew louder, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. Karen could see the hurt and fear reflected in her son's face, and she knew they had to get through this together. "Chip," she said gently, guiding him closer to his father. "Your dad needs love right now." She placed his hand on Plankton's back. "Tell him you love him." Chip took a deep breath, his hand trembling slightly. "Dad," he began, his voice cracking. "I love you." Plankton's sobs continued, unabated but his antennae quivered slightly, as if acknowledging his son's presence. Karen watched as Chip sat on the edge of the bed, tentatively placing his hand on Plankton's back. "I'm sorry," Chip whispered. "I didn't mean to hurt yo-" But Plankton's sobs interrupted him, his body wracked with emotion. His antennae thrashed about, his crying a silent testament to the pain he felt. The room was suffused with his sorrow, a stark contrast to his usually stoic demeanor. Chip felt the weight of his father's grief, his own chest tightening as he watched the man he idolized break down. He had never seen his father so exposed, so vulnerable, and it frightened him. He swallowed hard, his throat thick with tears. "Dad," he tried again, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to hurt-" But Plankton's sobs drowned out his words, his body convulsing with the force of his grief. Karen wrapped her arms around Chip, pulling him closer to her side. "Let him cry it out," she murmured. "He needs this." The room was filled with the sound of Plankton's sobs, each one a raw expression of the pain he felt. His antennae twitched erratically, as if trying to find a way to express the emotional thoughts inside his head. Chip sat there, frozen, his hand hovering over his father's back, unsure of what to do next. Karen watched them both, her own heart torn by the scene before her. She knew Plankton's autism made his emotions intense, and this misunderstanding had triggered a deep-seated fear of rejection. She also knew that Chip didn't intend to hurt his father—he was just a child, trying to understand a complex world. "Chip," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "It's ok. Just love him." She nodded towards Plankton. Chip took a deep breath, his hand shaking slightly. He slowly placed it on his father's back, feeling the warmth and tremble of his dad's shoulders. "I love you," Chip managed, his voice barely audible.

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) pt. 1 Chip dragged his bag through the doorway. Adopted at birth by his parents Karen and Plankton, his bus from camp came earlier than originally planned. Chip's thus not expected to be home from another hour yet he's home. His parents weren't in the living room, so he crept to the bedroom of his parents to see a peculiar sight. Plankton only allowed Karen to know about his neurodisability. He sometimes gets harmless nonepileptic seizures due to his autism. He's having one when Chip came home but neither he nor Karen noticed their son's arrival. Chip's heart pounded in his chest as he peered into their bedroom. Plankton was lying on the bed, eye open, his body stiff. Karen was at his side. "It's okay, it's okay," Karen murmured, stroking his arm gently. Her voice was soothing, a stark contrast to the chaotic silence of the seizure. Then Plankton's antennae twitched slightly. It was a sign that the seizure was passing. Karen recognized this phase as the postictal period, where her husband's mind was trying to reboot. Plankton's eye flickered, his speech slurred and incoherent. "Wha... wawl... bibble," he mumbled, his face a mask of confusion. Chip felt his breath catch in his throat, unsure of what he was witnessing. This wasn't the Plankton he knew—his dad was always sharp and quick-witted. The contrast was jarring, and his heart ached for the man struggling to regain his composure. Karen nodded gently, her eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "You're safe, my love," Karen whispered. "It's alright." Chip's curiosity grew as he listened to his father's disjointed words. "Wish... bof... not enough," Plankton said, his voice strained. Karen squeezed his hand. "Shh, Plankton, you're home," she soothed, cooing. "What's he talking about?" Chip thought to himself, his confusion swelling. He had never seen his dad like this. This was his dad, the strong, clever Plankton he knew, now so vulnerable and lost. Plankton's eye searches the ceiling as if trying to find answers there. Chip's curiosity morphed into concern. He had always known his dad was different, but this was new. "Bof... bibble," Plankton repeated, his eye still dazed. Chip's mind raced, trying to piece together what his father's nonsensical words could mean. "Don't worry, you'll feel better soon," Karen says. Plankton's babbling grew more childlike. "Bibble-bobble... more... choxie," Plankton said with a weak smile, his voice slurred like a toddler's. Karen chuckled softly, her hand still resting on his arm. "Choxie?" she questioned, gently. "Do you want any thi—" Before she could finish, Plankton chuckled, drool sliding down his chin. "Eeeeee?" Karen wiped it away with a tissue, her gaze filled with a mix of tenderness and understanding, knowing Plankton's state was temporary. "Choxie?" Chip whispered to himself, his curiosity piqued. He'd never heard his dad talk like this before. It was almost as if Plankton was speaking in another language—a child's babble filled with longing and innocence. Karen leaned in, listening intently to his garbled speech. Her eyes searched Plankton's face for any hint of recognition or meaning. "Kay... more... love," Plankton murmured, his eye fluttering closed. Karen's heart tightened, but she kept her voice steady. "More love?" she asked, interpreting his words with care. "I love you too, Plankton." Plankton's smile grew slightly, his antennae twitching in contentment. It seemed as if his garbled words were a request for comfort, and his wife's gentle voice has sufficed. Chip watched from the shadows, his mind racing with questions. His dad, usually so sharp and in control, was reduced to this. He noticed the way Karen's face softened as she spoke, how she treated Plankton like he was the most important being in the world. It was clear that this wasn't the first time she'd seen him like this, but the sight was still heartbreakingly new to Chip. "Gibble... gibble," Plankton continued, his body starting to relax as the seizure's aftermath ebbed away. His hands began to fidget, as if trying to grasp at the air. Chip's chest tightened, watching his dad so helpless. Plankton's antennae waved. "Wibble... wobble... waddle," he managed to say, his speech still slurred but slightly more coherent as Karen helps him sit up. Plankton's body felt heavy and awkward in her arms, but she managed to get him into a sitting position. He looked at her with a mix of relief and exhaustion. "Wobble?" Karen questioned, trying to decode his speech. "Do you want one of your sensory fidget toys?" Plankton's antennae twitched erratically as his speech grew slightly more coherent. "Bibble... bobble," he said, looking around the room with a child-like curiosity. Chip felt his own curiosity building, watching the scene unfold with a mix of concern and fascination. "Fibble... wibble," Plankton tried again, his words still jumbled. Karen nodded encouragingly, handing him a sensory fidget toy from the nightstand. It was a small, colorful object with various textures and shapes. As his hand closed around it, his eye lit up with recognition. "Wibble!" he exclaimed, his grip tightening on the toy. He began to fiddle with it, his movements becoming more precise. "Fibble... fibble," he murmured, his voice gaining strength. Karen watched him with relief, knowing that his recovery was underway. But Chip remained in the doorway, his eyes glued to his father's face. "Dibble-dibble... wobble-wobble," Plankton mumbled to himself, his fingers tracing the toy's intricate patterns. His voice was still not quite right, but it was a step closer to the clever and crafty man they knew. Karen watched with a soft smile, her eyes reflecting the warmth of her love for her husband. "You're coming back to us," she whispered. Plankton's antennae quivered, his eye slowly focusing on his wife's face. He blinked a few times. "K-Karen?" Her smile grew wider. "Yes, love, it's me," she said, her voice brimming with love and relief. He looked around, taking in his surroundings with a confused gaze. "Wha?" he finally managed to say, his voice still shaky. "You're home," Karen said, smiling as she held his hand. "You had a seizure, but you're okay now."

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 8 Karen rushed over, her face a mix of relief and concern. "Plankton, are you ok?" she asked, her voice filled with care. Plankton nodded, his antennae moving slowly as he took in his surroundings. He looked around, his eye darting to Chip. "H-How did we get here?" His voice was weak, his antennae still trembling slightly. "You fell off the swing," Chip said, trying to keep his voice steady. "But Mom and I caught you." He hoped the gentle explanation would ease his father's confusion. Plankton's antennae stilled for a moment, his eye focusing on Chip. He nodded, understanding dawning on his face. "Thank you...tired." Karen's eyes searched his face, reading his autistic cues. "Let's go home," she said gently, helping him to his feet. His legs were shaky, his balance precarious. With a nod, Plankton allowed her to guide him to the car, leaning heavily on her. Chip climbs into the back seat with Plankton. Karen pulled out of the park. "I'm proud of both of you," she said, glancing in the rearview mirror at Chip and Plankton. "You handled that so well." Plankton sat next to his son, still exhausted. Chip looked at his dad, his heart heavy with guilt. He reached for the plush bear he had brought from the house, placing it gently in Plankton's lap. "Here," he said softly. "It helps, right?" Plankton's antennae twitched, his gaze flickering to the toy. He took it, his fingers curling around the soft fabric, finding comfort in the familiar texture. "Thanks," he mumbled, his voice a whisper of its usual strength. Chip watched as his father's eye grew heavy with sleep, his head nodding slightly as the car pulled away from the park. Plankton's antennae twitched as he fought the pull of slumber, his grip tightening around the plush bear. Plankton's antennae were twitching slower now, his eye half-closed. Karen knew her husband was trying to stay present, to show his strength. But the exhaustion was clear. "Home," Plankton murmured, his eyelid drooping. "Yes, we're taking the trip home," Karen affirmed, her eyes flicking back to the road. The car's gentle hum was soothing, the vibrations of the engine lulling Plankton closer to sleep. Chip noticed his father's antennae quivering with each bump in the road, his body slumping against the car seat. Karen glanced in the rearview mirror, her expression a mix of concern and love. Plankton's antennae stilled as sleep claimed him, his body leaning against Chip's shoulder. Chip felt the weight of his dad's head. Chip knew that he was tired, but he also knew his father didn't like to admit when he needed help, especially in public. But here they were. Plankton's antennae barely twitched, his snores soft but steady. Karen's eyes remained on the road, her gaze flitting to the rearview mirror to check on him. Chip watched his father's sleeping form. The car's air conditioner blew a soft breeze across his dad's sleeping form, his antennae fluttering with the occasional draft. "Mom," Chip whispers from the back seat, his eyes never leaving his father's sleeping form. "Can I stay with him when we get home?" "Of course, sweetheart," Karen responded, her voice calm and reassuring. "We'll all need some rest after today. Just make sure he's comfortable." As they arrived home, Plankton was still fast asleep, his antennae barely twitching. "What do we do now, Mom?" Chip asked, unbuckling his seatbelt. "We get him to bed," Karen said firmly, opening the car door. "You can help me." With care, Karen lifted Plankton out of the car, his body limp with sleep. Chip opened the house door, holding it wide as his mother carried his father inside, each step precise and calculated to avoid disturbing Plankton. The coolness of the air-conditioned house was a stark contrast to the warmth of the car, and Plankton's antennae twitched slightly at the change in temperature. Karen's grip was gentle but firm, her arms steady as she carried him to their bedroom. Karen laid Plankton down carefully, his body sinking into the softness of the bed. Plankton's antennae twitched once more before coming to rest against the pillow. His snores grew quieter, his body fully surrendering to sleep. Chip hovered at the foot of the bed, his heart heavy. "Can I stay with him?" he asked, his voice small in the quiet room. Karen looked at her son, the question in his eyes. She nodded, her heart aching for the burgeoning bond between them. "Yes, but don't disturb him," she instructed, her voice barely above a whisper. Chip climbed into the bed with his father, his movements careful not to wake his dad. He lay down next to Plankton. Plankton's antennae were still now, his snores even and deep. Chip studied his father's face, the way his antenna fluttered with every breath, his grip on the bear unwavering. He was so vulnerable in sleep, so different from the man who had been consumed by anger. Chip felt a mix of emotions—guilt for his carelessness, fear of what could have been, and a newfound love for his father that was both fierce and gentle. He lay there, listening to the steady rhythm of Plankton's soft snores.

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 9 Eventually, Plankton groans awake to find his son sitting beside him on his bed. "Hey, buddy," he says. "What's going on?" Chip looks at him, his eyes filled with worry. "You had another seizure at the park," he says, his voice low. "Do you remember?" Plankton nods. The memory of the loud music and the sensory overload floods back. "I'm sorry," he says. "It's not your fault," Chip says quickly. "But I promise to try to be a better son, to understand." Plankton's antennae twitch slightly. "I'm sorry too," he mumbles. "For what, Dad?" Chip asks, his voice filled with confusion. "For not telling you," Plankton says, his gaze shifting to the floor. "What do you mean, Dad?" Chip asks, his voice filled with curiosity. "Why didn't you tell me?" Plankton sighs, his antennas drooping. "Because it's hard, Chip," he says, his voice cracking. "It's not something people understand easily. I don't even fully understand it." Chip frowns, his eyes searching Plankton's. "But now I know," he says. "I want to understand, Dad. I want to learn." Plankton's antennae twitch, his gaze meeting his son's. "Okay," he says slowly. "What do you want to know?" Chip's eyes widen. "Everything," he says. "What do you prefer me to call it?" Plankton pauses, his single eye looking into his son's earnest gaze. "Autism," he says. "Or, if you want to get specific, my form is neurodevelopmental autism." He takes a deep breath. "It's a type of disability. It affects how I think, how I learn, and how I interact with the world." Chip nods, taking it in. "So, like, why do you sometimes get so upset about noises or lights?" Plankton sighs, his antennas drooping slightly. "It's like my brain can't filter everything out. It's all too much at once. It's like listening to a thousand TVs at full volume. It overwhelms me." Chip's eyes widen further. "And the seizures, Dad?" Plankton's antennae twitch in thought. "They're a part of it, too," he says, his voice strained. "It's like my brain's wiring gets tangled up, and it has to reset. It's not always predictable, and it can be scary. It doesn't happen every single day." Chip nods solemnly, his curiosity piqued. "What about the toys?" he asks, gesturing to the plush bear still in Plankton's hand. "They're sensory items," Plankton explains, his antennae straightening. "They can help me when I'm overwhelmed. Something to fidget, when restless. Like comfort items, if you will." Chip nods, processing. "So, like, how long have you had this, uhm, autism?" Plankton's antennae twitch at the question. "Since I was born," he replies. "It's always been a part of me. It's just the way my brain works. Some days are easier than others. But it's not to be cured or reversed. I acquired it at birth. When my mum was to give birth to me, something happened, and it changed the way my brain developed. What exactly happened was during the birth, my head somehow got stuck, and it affected my brain." Chip's eyes widened. "But you're so smart," he said. "Does it affect your intelligence?" Plankton's antennae twitched slightly as he considered his son's question. "It's not that simple," he said. "It's like some things are easier for me, like solving complex problems or remembering details. But other things, like reading social cues or understanding sarcasm, are really hard." "But you're so good at inventing," Chip said. "Does it help with that?" Plankton's antennae twitched. "Yes," he said. "My brain works differently. It lets me see patterns and connections that others might miss. But it can also make simple things like talking to people really tough." Chip nodded, his hand still resting on the plush bear. "Can I ask you someth...? I just, the bad wor— I'm sorry; I just wanna ask about the slur I used." Plankton flinched at the mention of the slur. He took a deep breath. "As long as you know it was wrong, and you don't do it again," he said. "I'll tell you about it." Chip nodded, his eyes intent on his dad's. "Why did it hurt?" he asked, his voice soft. Plankton's antennae twitched with the pain of the memory. "Because those words, they're not just words," he said. "They're like punches. They hurt because they're not true. They're not who I am. And when people use them, it feels like they're trying to define me by something that's just a part of me. And that particular slur is used to mock, to belittle." "But, why?" Chip asks. "How's it a slur?" "That term has been used to refer to people with neurodisabilities like including autism in a way that suggests, um..." Plankton paused to wipe a tear from his eye. "Sorry," he whispers, taking a deep breath. "There were diagnosticians, non- disabled, who coined that term," he began, his voice shaky. "They referred to neurodisabled people that, and then those neurodisabled people were then had or given options to be 'fixed' by either trying torturous methods to 'normalize' them or, if that didn't eventually work, they'd just... tell caregivers or their guardians to refuse necessities including food or water until they'd ultimately pass away." Chip's shocked into silence as Plankton wiped another tear, sniffling. "And instead of giving any accommodations, they'd punish you. As if you were choosing to be something so wrong," Plankton continues, his voice quivering. "And in grade school, when kids couldn't understand, they'd use it as a weapon, to mean anything they didn't like. I personally was bullied a lot when I'd blurt out some random science fact or, just was left out. And even teachers sometimes, they'd say I was just being 'that'. And I'd get in trouble for 'that'. And when you said that Chip, it just... brought it all back."

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 10 Plankton wiped the rest of his tears as Chip took in his dad's story, his eyes wide. "So, you've had to deal with that your whole life?" Chip asked, his voice filled with a newfound empathy. "Yeah," Plankton nodded, his antennae twitching slightly. "But it's not all bad. There's beauty in being different, you know. And your mom and I, we've learned to make it work." Chip looked at the plush bear in his dad's hand, now understanding its significance. "What happens during a seizure, Dad?" Plankton took a deep breath. "My brain gets overwhelmed, like too much data coming in at once. It's like a circuit breaker trips and everything goes haywire. My body can't handle it, so it shuts down a bit. It's like my brain's way of hitting the reset button." "Does it hurt?" Chip asked, his eyes searching his dad's. "No, not physically," Plankton said, his antennae twitching slightly. "But it's scary, and it can leave me feeling really tired. And sometimes it's embarrassing, because it happens when I'm not expecting it and I might act a bit strange after. Like, I might not recognize anything for a little bit. But it's like coming out of a daydream. You're just... there, but not quite. And then the real world hits as it passes. And most of the time I don't even know it's happening until it's over." Chip nodded, his hand tightening around the bear. "But why don't people understand, Dad?" "I guess because autism is internal," Plankton explained. "People can't see it. They don't know what's going on inside my head. They just see me acting differently, and that annoys them. They don't know how to react, I guess. It's a spectrum," Plankton continued. "There are lots of people like that. And some have it a lot worse. They can't talk or can't do things that come easy to me. It's just how their brains are." Chip frowned, deep in thought. "But you let Mom hug you but, not me; is that part of it?" Plankton nodded, his antennae drooping. "Sometimes, Chip," he said. "It's about comfort and safety. With Mom, we know what to expect, but with you, it's still new. It's not that I don't love you or don't want to hug you. It's just... hard sometimes. Certain touches can be too much." Chip's eyes searched his father's face. "But, I'm your son," he said, his voice small. Plankton nodded. "And I love you more than anything," he replied. "But sometimes, my brain gets confused by touch, especially when it's unexpected. It's not because I don't want to be close to you, it's because it's too much for me to handle. And there are days where it's easier than others. But she knows what to do, and she understands when I can't take much more." Chip looked down at the bear, his eyes filling with tears. "I don't want to make it worse," he whimpered. "Just ask before you touch me, ok? And if I say no, don't take it to personally. It's not about you, Chip; it's about what I can handle, what my body craves." Karen then came to check on them. "How are we doing?" she asked, her voice gentle. "I see you're awake.." Plankton nodded weakly. "We're okay," he said. "Chip and I were just... talking." Karen's gaze moved from her husband to her son, noticing the bear in Chip's hand. "Oh?" Karen's eyebrows raised in suspicion. "Yeah," Chip said, his voice steadier now. "I just want to know more about... about Dad." Karen sat on the bed's edge. "You're growing up," she murmured. "Ok," Plankton said. "But keep it simple. I'm pretty tired." Chip nods as Karen moves closer to them. "So, Dad, what do you want me to do when you have a seizure?" Plankton's antennae twitched in thought. "Just stay calm," he instructed. "And keep me safe. Sometimes, I might lash out without knowing it, so keep yourself safe too. And if you can, help me find something to fidget with, like offering me the bear. But even if it's not at home, inform your mother. Perhaps find a quiet spot." Chip nodded, his mind racing with information. "What about when you move your hands like, is that because of it?" He turns to Karen. "Yes," Karen said, taking his hand in hers. "It's called stimming. It's a way for your dad to self-soothe or if jittery. It's usually when really emotional or just restless. And he does it to help manage the input his brain's receiving." Chip's eyes widen. "So it's for fun; can I try?" But Plankton shook his head. "No Chip, it's not a toy for you.." Karen squeezed Chip's shoulder gently. "It's okay to ask questions, honey," she said. "But remember, everyone's experience is different. For your dad, he can stim by fidgeting with his hands or talking to himself. He might hum or rock. But he doesn't like it to be mimicked. It's not for us to point out or make comments on, unless to offer support or ask if he'd like help. It's just something he does for himself, not for us." Chip nodded, his gaze back on Plankton. "And what about those moments where you just... zone out?" Plankton's antennae twitched slightly. "Those are called absence seizures," he said. "They're like staring spells. They can happen anywhere, anytime. It's like my brain pauses for a bit. It can be unsettling, but they usually don't last long. Just stay calm and let me know when I come back, okay?" "Okay," Chip said, nodding. "What about when you get upset and repeat words?" Plankton sighed. "That's called echolalia," he explained. "It's when I repeat what I've heard, or something I've said before. It's a way for me to cope with stress or anxiety. Sometimes, it's just easier than finding new words. But usually it's to process verbal directions. Palilalia is all part of the autism spectrum." Karen watched the two of them, warmth spreading through her heart.

𝖡𝖱𝖠𝖨𝖭 𝖢𝖧𝖨𝖯 𝗉𝗍. 7 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖤𝖴𝖱𝖮𝖥𝖠𝖡𝖴𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖲) They moved to the floor, a cushioned area where Plankton felt more comfortable. Hanna produced a variety of textures for him to explore. "Slowly," she instructed, "let's introduce his hands to different fabrics." Karen watched as Plankton's fingers danced over the softness of velvet, his expression unreadable. Then Hanna presented a piece of sandpaper. His hand retracted instantly, his eye squeezing shut. "No," he murmured, his voice tight with distress. "It's ok," Karen said, taking his hand. "We'll try something else." She offered him a smooth piece of silk instead. His eye widened, his breath catching. "Nice?" she asked, her voice gentle. Slowly, Plankton's hand unfurled, his fingertips brushing against the fabric. "Silk," he whispered, his voice filled with wonder. He began to stroke it, his movements rhythmic and comforting. Hanna nodded, making a note. "Good," she said. "That's a positive response. Now let's try different tactile sensations." Hanna says, taking the fabrics away. She presented a tray with a variety of objects: a cold metal spoon, a soft feather, a bumpy rock. Plankton's hand hovered over each item, his gaze intense. "Choose one," Karen urged, her voice gentle. He reached for the feather, his eye closing in anticipation. As the soft plumes brushed against his skin, a shiver of pleasure went through him. "Good," he murmured, his hand moving in a soothing motion. Karen watched. Hanna offered the cold spoon next. Plankton's hand jerked back at first, his eye widening in fear. But with Karen's gentle encouragement, he touched it again, his breath hitching as he experienced the coolness. "Cold," he whispered, his voice filled with wonder before retreating his hand again. They moved to the rock, its surface a study in contrasts. Plankton's hand hovered, then touched the rock tentatively. His face contorted as he felt the bumpy, unyielding surface. "Odd," he murmured. Hanna nodded, her gaze studying him. "It's ok to not like everything," she said. "But it's ok to explore." She sets out a sharpened point to test his reaction. Plankton's hand hovered over the pointed tip, his antennae twitching. He looked to Karen, his eye searching for reassurance. "It's ok," she whispered, taking the point and pressing it lightly into her own palm. "It's just a sensation I vaguely feel," Karen says, barely pressing onto his skin. Slowly, touching the point with the pad of his finger... His body jolted, his breath screeching. "Pain," he murmured, his hand retreating quickly. "Too much!" Hanna nodded, her expression thoughtful. "It's ok," she said. "This is all about finding what you can ha-" But before she could finish, Plankton's body stiffened, his eye rolling back with a cry. Karen watched another seizure take hold. "No!" she cried, her voice a mix of fear and frustration. Hanna was quick to act, guiding him back to the couch and speaking soothingly. "It's ok," she murmured. "You're safe." They waited for the seizure to pass, Karen's hand tightly clutching Plankton's, offering silent comfort. When he came to, his gaze was haunted, his hand still wrapped around the fidget toy. Hanna tried the point again, only for Plankton to cough up his toast, tears streaming down his face. "We need to stop," Karen said, her voice shaking. "This isn't helping." Hanna nodded, her expression filled with understanding. "We've learned a lot today," she said. "We know what to avoid now. Let's stop." They moved back to the couch, Karen's arm around Plankton, his body trembling. She knew his sensory overload was at its peak. The room felt too bright, too loud, too much. "Let's dim the lights," Hanna suggested, her voice gentle. "And let's try some deep pressure." Karen nodded, rushing to the dimmer switch and adjusting the lights to a comfortable level. She then wrapped a weighted blanket around Plankton, his body relaxing almost immediately under its embrace. His eye closed, and his breathing grew steady as the pressure helped soothe his overwhelmed senses. They sat in silence for a moment, Karen stroking his arm, avoiding any sudden movements that might startle him. "It's ok," she whispered. "You're safe." Hanna spoke softly. "It's important to create a sensory friendly environment," she explained. "We'll need to make some adjustments around the house." Karen nodded, her gaze never leaving Plankton's face. "I'll do anything," she said. "Whatever it takes." Hanna's eyes searched the room, her mind working. "Let's start with visual stimuli," she said. They moved through the place, Karen following Hanna's instructions to cover the windows with blackout curtains and remove any items that might be overstimulating. The room grew dimmer, the only light coming from a single, soft lamp. Plankton's breathing slowed, his body visibly relaxing. Hanna spoke calmly. "Now, let's work on some verbal exercises." Karen watched as Hanna selected a set of cards with simple pictures and words. "We'll start with matching," she said, holding up a card with an image of a cat. "What does this say?" Plankton's eye focused on the card, his hand fidgeting with the blanket's edge. "Cat," he murmured sleepily. Hanna nodded, her gaze meeting Karen's. "Good job," she said. "Now, let's try another one." She held up a card with a picture of a tree. Plankton's eye searched the card, his mouth moving as if he was trying to form the word. "Tree," he managed after a moment, his voice slightly more confident, yet he felt drowsily exhausted. Hanna nodded, pleased with his progress. "Very good, Plankton," she said, placing the card down. "Let's keep going." But Plankton's tired. "Maybe we should take a break," Karen suggested, seeing the fatigue in his posture. "He's had a lot to process today." Hanna nodded, her gaze kind. "It's been a big day for him. Let's not push it." They decided to end the session, Karen helping Plankton to bed, the weighted blanket still wrapped around him. His eye were half-closed, his movements sluggish as he sank into the mattress, the sensory overload leaving him drained. "Thank you," Karen murmured to Hanna. "For everything." Hanna's smile was gentle. "It's what I'm here for," she said. "We'll take this one step at a time. Remember, patience and understanding are key." Karen nodded with tears as she tucked Plankton into bed. His body was still, his breaths deep and even under the soothing weight of the blanket. The room was now a cocoon of calm, designed to protect his sensitive system from the onslaught of the outside world.

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 14 (𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ. sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ Chip sits beside Karen, watching his dad sleep. He's quiet, his mind racing with questions. How can someone so strong, so in control, be brought to this? The room feels heavy with silence, the air thick with unspoken fears and love. Plankton's snores are a comforting reminder that he's okay, that the storm has passed. Chip's screen flickers with the memory of his dad's favorite pranks, his laughter echoing in the quiet room. But now, his dad looks so small, so fragile. Karen notices Chip's distant gaze. "Remember, Chip, he's still the same person." She pauses, searching for the right words. "His autism doesn't change who he is, just how he experiences the world." Chip nods, but the doubt lingers. How can he understand a world so alien to his own? The silence in the room is broken by Plankton's sudden mumble. "Karen?" His voice is a whisper, his antennae slowly rising. Her screen lights up with relief and love. "You're okay," she says, her hand stroking his. Plankton's eye opens, unfocused and tired. "Chip?" He sees his son, sitting on the bed, his screen filled with uncertainty. "Dad?" Chip whispers. Plankton's antennae twitch as he tries to sit up. "I'm okay," he says, his voice hoarse. Karen's hand on his shoulder steadies him. "Just tired." The weight of sleep lifts from his eyelid. Chip watches, his screen reflecting the hope that his dad is okay. "Do you... Do you remember?" Plankton's eye widens, his antennae quivering. "Chip," he murmurs, his voice filled with regret. "It's okay, Dad," Chip says, his voice firm. "You had a meltdown." Plankton's antennae fall, his gaze dropping. "I'm sorry," Plankton whispers, his voice thick with guilt. "It's not your fault," Karen says, squeezing his hand. "We know it's not." But Chip is full of questions. "What can I do?" he asks, his screen eager. "How can I help?" Karen smiles, her eyes filling with pride. "You're already helping," she says. "Just by being here, just by loving him." But Chip wants more. He wants to understand, to help in the way Karen does. "What are his triggers?" he asks. Karen's screens flicker with thought. "Well," she says, "it's different for everyone. For him, it can be sudden noises, changes in routine, or even his belongings being moved without his knowing." Chip nods, his mind racing. "But what about his stims?" he asks. "Those are his way of coping," Karen explains. "When he flaps his arms, spins, or repeats words, he's trying to regulate his sensory input. It's like he's tuning in to the world." Karen says. "And when he repeats words or phrases, it helps him make sense of what's happening. Let him do his thing. Sometimes he'll need help to calm down, like with the squeezy ball or his fidget toy. And sometimes, just being there, quietly, is all he needs. As long as you listen and respect his boundaries, you'll be his best helper." Chip's curiosity is piqued. He looks at his dad, now easing himself onto the pillow. "What types of touch does he like?" Chip's voice is soft. Karen's screens flicker with memories of trial and error, of finding the right balance. "Some autistics like deep pressure," she says. "It can be soothing. But he's different. He usually prefers light touches, like strokes or holding hands." Plankton's antennae twitch at the mention of his name. "What do I do if he has another meltdown?" Chip's voice is earnest. "Just be there," Karen says. "Sometimes, just knowing you're there can make all the difference." She sighs. "But if it's really bad, we'll have to get the medicine again, as a last resort. It's hard," she admits. "But I love him. And I'll always be here for him." Chip nods. "I love him too," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want to help him." Karen's screens glow with pride. "You already do," she says. "But I know you want to understand more." Chip nods. "What about when he's really happy?" Karen's screens light up with a smile. "Oh, his laughter is the sweetest sound. But if he reaches for you, if he wants to share that joy, just be there, okay?" Chip nods, eager to learn. "What if he starts repeating things again?" Karen's screen softens. "It's called echolalia," she says. "It's his brain's way of processing. Just let him finish, and then you can talk." She pauses, her thumb tracing a pattern on Plankton's hand. "And if you repeat something with understanding, it can help make him feel heard." Chip nods, his mind racing. He's seen his dad do this before, but never knew what it meant. "What about his rocking?" he asks. Karen's screens flicker with knowledge. "That's his way of self-stimulating," she says. "It helps him regulate his nervous system. Sometimes it's soothing, sometimes it's how he thinks. Remember, his body's his own. If he pulls away, it's not personal. It's just his way of saying he needs a break." "How did you learn all of this?" Karen looks down at their intertwined hands, her screens reflecting the journey. "Trials and errors, love," she says. "And listening to him. Everyone's autism is different. What works for one might not work for another. We just have to keep trying, keep learning." Chip nods, his mind racing with questions. "How do we know if he's about to have a meltdown?" Karen looks at Plankton, his antennae still. "Look for the signs," she says. "Sudden agitation, avoiding eye contact, flapping his arms, or repeating words. That's when you know he's overwhelmed." He nods, trying to picture it. "What about his box?" "That's sensory aids," she explains. "They help him cope with stress. It's important we don't touch it without asking first." "What's in there? Dad, can I see?" But Plankton cuts him off. "Absolutely NOT!" he says. Karen's screen flickers with a smile. "It's his personal space," she tells Chip gently. "Those things are special to him, his tools to stay calm." Chip nods, his curiosity still unquenched. "Can I..." But Plankton's antennae shoot up. "I just said no, Chip!" He's alert, his voice sharp. Karen's grip on his hand tightens. "Remember," she says calmly, "his box is his sanctuary." Plankton's gaze locks with Chip's, his eye wide with agitation. "Okay, okay," Chip says, his hands up in surrender. He can feel the tension in the air, the unspoken words heavy between them. "What if I just peek?" he asks him. Plankton's antennae quiver. "No," he says firmly. "It's not for playing." "Dad, I--" "How about NO?" Plankton says, his voice still a little rough around the edges. Chip nods, his curiosity now mixed with respect. "Okay," he says. "But can you show me?" Karen looks at Plankton, his antennae still. "It's okay," she says softly. "We can show him together." Plankton's eye narrows, but he doesn't resist as Karen opens the box.

𝖡𝖱𝖠𝖨𝖭 𝖢𝖧𝖨𝖯 𝗉𝗍. 6 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖤𝖴𝖱𝖮𝖥𝖠𝖡𝖴𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖲) Hanna pulled out a notepad from her bag. "Let's try some communication exercises," she suggested. "Karen, can you ask Plankton a simple question?" Karen swallowed hard, her voice shaking slightly. "Plankton, what color is the sky?" Plankton's hand paused in its squeezing. His eye searched the room before finally meeting hers. "Sky," he murmured, his voice a little more present. "Blue. The daytime sky appears blue because air molecules scatter shorter wavelengths of sunlight more than longer ones. The blackbody spectrum of sunlight coming into th-" "Thank you," Hanna said, her tone measured. "Now, let's try again. What does the sky look like right now?" Plankton's gaze shifted to the window, the curtains pulled back to reveal the soft blue of the early morning. "Sky," he murmured. "Blue." His hand resumed its rhythmic squeezing of the fidget toy, a silent companion to his thoughts. Hanna nodded, scribbling quick notes on her pad. "Very good, Plankton. Now, can you tell me why you don't like to be touched?" He paused, his hand still. "Touch," he said, his voice tight. "Overwhelming." Karen clenched at his word choice. "Too much," he added. "Sensory overload." Hanna nodded, her eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "Okay. What about sounds? Are there any sounds that bother you?" Plankton's hand stilled on the fidget toy, his gaze drifting away. "Sounds," he murmured. "Some are too loud." He paused, his brow furrowing. "The toaster," he said, his voice filled with distress. "It hurts." Hanna made another note. "We'll have to be mindful of that," she said. "And what about light?" Plankton's hand resumed its squeezing. "Light," he murmured. "Sometimes too bright, if sudden." Hanna nodded, her expression sympathetic. "It's ok," she said. "We'll make sure the lights aren't too harsh. Now, Plankton, can you tell us what you enjoy doing?" He looked up at them, his eye searching their screens. "Read," he murmured, his voice gaining a tiny bit of animation. "Books, knowledge." "Okay," she said, her voice steady. "I'm going to set a tablet in front of you, to gauge your reactions to different sounds and sights." They sat at the dining table, Plankton's eye flicking to the new device. Hanna had downloaded various apps to help with sensory integration. "Remember, you can tell us if anything makes you uncomfortable. We're just going to start with some simple patterns and sounds." The screen lit up with colorful shapes, moving slowly and predictably. Plankton's hand stilled on the fidget toy. His eye followed the patterns, his expression unreadable. "Good," Hanna murmured, her finger swiping the screen. "Let's try some more different sights now." The patterns on the screen then shifted to a kaleidoscope of flashing lights. Plankton's eye grew wide, his hand frozen on the fidget toy. Karen watched as his gaze locked onto the screen, his body going rigid. "Plankton?" she asked, a hint of alarm in her voice. But he didn't respond. His eye remained unblinking, unmoving. Hanna's hand shot out, her finger pressing the screen to pause the app. "It's ok," she murmured. "Take deep breaths." But Plankton didn't move, his body eerily still. "What's happening?" Karen whispered, her voice trembling. Hanna's eyes darted to her notepad, scribbling furiously. "Absence seizure," she murmured. "It's common with autism. It's like his brain has gone on pause." Karen's chest tightened as she watched Plankton's unblinking eye. "What do we do?" "Stay calm," Hanna said, her voice steady. "Let it run its course. It'll be over soon." Karen's hand hovered over Plankton's shoulder, wanting to comfort him, but she held back, afraid to trigger something worse. The silence in the room was deafening, only punctuated by the soft ticking of the wall clock. Each second felt like an eternity as she waited for Plankton to come back to them. Suddenly, his eye twitched, and the tension in his body began to ease. He blinked, his gaze returning to the present, and took a deep, shaky breath. "Plankton?" Karen asked, her voice a whisper. He looked at her, his expression confused. "Are you ok?" Hanna stepped in, her voice calm and soothing. "It's all right. You just had a little seizure. It happens sometimes." Plankton's hand tightened on the fidget toy, his gaze flitting between Karen and Hanna. "Seizure," he murmured, his voice a little shaky. "Why?" Hanna's hand paused over her notepad, her expression compassionate. "It's part of the autism spectrum," she said, carefully choosing her words. "Sometimes the brain gets overwhelmed and needs a brief rest. It's nothing to be scared of, but we'll keep an eye on it. How did you feel in that moment?" Plankton took a moment to consider, his hand still squeezing the fidget toy. "Went away," he murmured. "Everything went away, yet it was all... too much. Felt like... dizzy in a blender." Hanna nodded, her gaze thoughtful. "It's like your brain was trying to process too much, and it needed a moment to reset." She made another note. "We'll need to test sounds." They moved to the living room, where Hanna had set up a speaker. "We're going to play some noises," she said. "Tell us if any are too loud or bother you." The first sound was a gentle rainfall. Plankton's antennae twitched but he remained calm. Hanna made a note. "Good," she murmured. Next, she played a recording of people talking fast over one another. Plankton's hand squeezed the fidget toy until his knuckles whitened. "Too much," he whispered, his voice strained as he felt another absence seizure coming on. Karen's eyes grew wide with concern. "Stop," she said, her voice firm. "That's enough." Hanna nodded, her gaze never leaving Plankton's face. She reached over and turned off the speaker. "It's ok," she soothed. "We're going to take this slow." She made a note of the reaction before looking at Karen. "We need to build his tolerance, but not push him past his limits. Let's try tactile whenever his seizure completely stops."

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) pt. 6 Plankton's sobs grew louder, the sound a physical presence in the room. Karen tightened her grip on Chip, her eyes never leaving Plankton's face. She knew this moment was crucial, a chance for them to bridge the gap that had formed. Chip felt the warmth of his mother's embrace, her love grounding him. He took a deep breath, his hand still on his dad's back. "I'm sorry," he said again, his voice steadier this time. "I didn't know that word was bad. I love you, Dad." Plankton's sobs continued, but Chip thought he felt a slight lessening in their intensity. Karen nodded, her eyes swollen with tears. "Keep going," she urged. Chip took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper. "I love you, Dad," he said, his hand rubbing slow circles on Plankton's back. "I'm sorry for hurting you." Plankton's sobs grew less intense, his antennae stilling slightly. His body shuddered with the effort of controlling his emotions. He was still lost in his pain, but he could feel the warmth of his son's hand, a silent apology. Karen watched, her heart aching for both of them. She knew that autism could amplify emotions to an unbearable degree, and she could see Plankton's struggle to comprehend the hurt he had just experienced. "Keep talking to him, Chip," she urged, her voice soft. "He needs to know how much you love him." Chip nodded, his throat tight with emotion. He leaned closer to his father, his voice shaking. "You're not slow, Dad," he said, his eyes never leaving Plankton's. "You're just... you. And I love you, just the way you are." Plankton's sobs grew slightly quieter, his body still shaking with the aftermath as Chip's hand moves in soothing circles on Plankton's back, mimicking Karen's own soothing gestures. Chip felt his own tears fall now, his heart breaking for his dad now that he had hurt him. He took a deep breath and continued to speak. "You're so smart," Chip whispered, his voice shaky but earnest. "You're the best chef in Bikini Bottom. You're... you're just you, that's all." Plankton's sobs grew more muffled, his antennae slowly calming. The sound of Chip's voice, the warmth of his touch, it was all familiar and comforting. He knew his son didn't mean it, but the sting of the slur was hard to ignore. Karen watched the interaction, her own heart heavy with the weight of Plankton's pain. But she also saw the love and understanding growing between her husband and their son. Slowly, Plankton's sobs began to subside, his breathing growing more even. His antennae stopped quivering. Karen watched as Chip's hands continued to make soothing circles on his father's back. She knew that touch for Plankton can be either a comfort or a trigger. Plankton's breaths grew even, his sobs fading into a quiet whimper. His antennae finally stilled, and his body seemed to melt into the bed. The exhaustion that always followed a seizure was setting in, compounded by the emotional turmoil. Chip watched his dad, his own eyes red with tears. He didn't know what else to say, so he just sat there, his hand still on Plankton's back, providing the comfort he hoped his father could feel. Karen's eyes were filled with love and pride as she watched her son. Plankton's whimpers grew softer, his body growing heavier with each breath. Karen knew he was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, taken a toll on him. She reached over to stroke his arm, her fingers gentle. "Plankton," Karen said softly. "You're okay. It's okay." Plankton's whimpers gradually subsided as his eyelid drooped. His body grew heavier with each breath, his antennae coming to rest against the pillow. Karen could see the exhaustion in his every movement, the toll his seizure and the intensity of his emotions had taken. Chip watched as his father's breathing grew steadier, his body relaxing under his touch. The room was now silent except for the quiet rustle of sheets and Plankton's soft snores. Karen gently eased Chip's hand away, her own hand lingering for a moment longer. She whispered, "Let him rest now, sweetheart." Chip nodded, his eyes still fixed on his father's peaceful face. He knew Plankton was asleep now, his body finally at ease. The anger had drained from the room, leaving behind a quiet sadness. Karen reached for the plush bear on the nightstand, placing it in Plankton's outstretched hand. His antennae twitched slightly in his sleep, his grip tightening around the toy. She smiled softly as Plankton's snores grew deeper. Chip stared at his father, his own eyes heavy with the weight of the evening's events. He had never seen his dad so vulnerable, so overwhelmed by his own emotions. It was a stark contrast to the Plankton he knew—the clever, resourceful, and often frustratingly stoic man who was his hero. But here he was, a man who needed comfort and reassurance. The next day, Karen woke Chip up. "We're gonna go across town to a big park, okay?" Chip nodded, following her to Plankton's bed. Plankton was still asleep, his antennae twitching slightly as he dreamt. Karen approached the bed, her steps light. She knew he's a light sleeper, yet waking him can be startling, so she knew to be extremely gentle. Her hand hovered over his shoulder. "Plankton," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, a sign that he was coming to. She waited, giving his brain time to catch up with the world. His eye flitted open, his gaze unfocused for a moment. "Hey, sweetie," Karen said, her voice gentle. "We're going to a new playground across town.."

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) pt. 2 Plankton's cheeks flushed a deep shade of red as he processed her words. Embarrassment flooded him as he realized what must have happened. "It's okay," Karen assured, her tone soothing as ever. She wiped any last remnants of drool from his chin, her movements tender. "I think we outta tell Chi-" "N-no, Karen... we're not gonna tell Chip," Plankton stammered. The thought of his son seeing him in such a vulnerable state was too much to bear. He didn't want Chip to see him as weak, or worse— someone to be pitied. But it was too late. Chip stepped out of the shadows, his eyes wide and full of unanswered questions. "Dad, are you okay?" he asked, his voice quivering with concern. He didn't like the idea of Chip seeing him in such a state of vulnerability. He had always worked hard to mask his neurodisability from his son. The room was suddenly thick with tension as Plankton's eye snapped to Chip, his antennae drooping with embarrassment. He tried to hide his trembling hands, feeling exposed and weak. "Chip," Karen began, turning to her son, her eyes pleading for understanding. "It's just something that happens sometimes. Daddy's okay. Now, how was summer ca--" "What's wrong with him?" Chip interrupted, his voice cracking with emotion. He had seen his dad act different before, but this was on a whole new level. Karen sighed heavily, guiding her son out of the room. "Your dad has a neurodisability, Chip. It's called autism. Sometimes, his brain does things that are hard for him to control." Chip's eyes grew even wider, his heart racing as he tried to process this new information. "But why did he talk like that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's just a part of a condition, sweetheart," she explained. "It's like his brain gets scrambled for a bit after his seizures." They sat down on the couch, Karen's eyes filled with compassion as she saw the fear in her son's eyes. "But he's going to be okay." Chip looked at her with a mixture of confusion and concern. "What do you mean, his brain gets scrambled?" "It's like when you're playing a video game, and the screen glitches for a moment," she tried to explain. "It just takes him a little time to get his thoughts straight after one of these episodes." Chip nodded slowly, his gaze drifting back to the bedroom door. "I'll make us some cookies, ok?" Karen said, giving him a gentle nudge. Chip goes back to his parents bedroom. Plankton was still on his own bed. "What d-did your mother t-tell you?" Chip thought of how to phrase his answer, forgetting what his mom called it. "She told me that you're just re---" Plankton's eye widened, his face flushing with a mix of anger and pain. The slur cut deeper than any physical blow could. "Don't you ever call me that," he said, his voice shaking. "Do you underst--" "It's just what mom said," Chip responded, his voice trembling. But Plankton's expression was one of hurt and anger. He had worked so hard to keep his condition hidden from his son, and now, in his most vulnerable moment, his own wife had supposedly betrayed him? "What did she tell you?" Plankton demanded, his voice harsher than Chip had ever heard before. His father was clearly upset, and Chip was torn between defending his mom and trying to understand what was happening. "It's just what she told me," Chip shrugs, not knowing it's a slur. "I'll go unpack." Moments after Chip left to his own room, Karen comes back, not knowing what Chip said to him. "Plankton," she said softly, "I made some cookies!" Plankton ignored her, turning away. "What's wrong?" Karen asked. Plankton's antennae twitched with agitation. "You told him," he said accusingly, his voice shaky. Karen's smile faded, replaced by a look of concern. "I didn't tell him anything bad," she explained gently. "Just that you ha—" "Don't say it," Plankton interrupted, his voice sharp. "Chip told me what you said. How could you do that?" Karen's eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean?" she asked. "The... the 'R' word," Plankton cried, tears streaming down. Karen's heart sank, realizing his fear. "Oh, Plankton, no, not that," she said, reaching for his hand. "I never called you that, I pro-" But Plankton was beyond consolation, the damage already done. "You did," he insisted, his voice breaking. "You said it, right there! I thought you were the one person who understood me.." Karen felt a coldness spread through her. "Plankton, I swear, I never said that. I just told him about your autism! You know I'd never call you that. Ever. I would never use that term." Plankton's antennae trembled with anger. "Then why did Chip say it? He said you told him I wa-" Plankton choked back a sob. Karen's eyes searched his face, desperation creeping in. "Chip must have misunderstood," she said. "Let's go talk to him; we'll clear this up." But Plankton's trust was shaken, and his anger was palpable. "No," he snapped. "I don't w-want to see either of you right now." His voice cracked under the weight of his emotions. Karen felt the sting of his rejection, but she knew his pain was deeper. With a heavy heart, she left the room. As she closed the door, she heard Plankton's muffled sobs, and it broke her heart. Making her way to Chip's room, she tried to prepare for the conversation she knew was coming. She wanted to explain everything to her son, to ease his fears and misunderstandings. When she reached Chip's bedroom she took a deep breath, steeling herself for the emotional conversation. "Hey Chip," she said, opening the door softly. Chip sat on his bed, his face etched with worry. "We need to talk."

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.

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 𝟩 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍'𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋. 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗈𝗍. 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝖽. "𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒?" 𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒. 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒. "𝖨'𝗆 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖾," 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽. "𝖫𝖾𝗍'𝗌 𝗀𝗈.." 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗁 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗋𝖺𝗇 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌, 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌 𝗉𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗓𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍'𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇. "𝖫𝖾𝗍'𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗀𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖾𝗋," 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍. "𝖠𝗅𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍; 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗇!" 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖽, 𝖺 𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗌𝗐𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅𝗌. 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗋𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗂𝖼 𝗍𝗈 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇'𝗌 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗇𝖽. 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉'𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀-𝗈𝖿𝖿, 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝗁𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗆 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖼 𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋. 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗃𝗈𝗒. 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝖽, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽. 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝗎𝗇𝗀. 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗉𝗎𝗆𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌, 𝖽𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗌, 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝗌 𝗀𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗄𝖾𝗍𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗈 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗎𝗆𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽𝗅𝗒, 𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖾𝗍. 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗇𝗈𝗂𝗌𝖾. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝖽𝖾𝖽, 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗀𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅. "𝖣𝖺𝖽!" 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗒𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽, 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗃𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇. 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗎𝗇𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗆𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗒𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗆. 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗃𝗎𝗆𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅, 𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝖾𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗂𝗋, 𝗎𝗇𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗌𝖺𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗒. 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌 𝗎𝗇𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗂𝗋. 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗅. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄, 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌. 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅. 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝖾. 𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾, 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗍, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀. 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗂𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽. 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽, 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗆 𝗀𝗎𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝖽 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗌. 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇'𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄. "𝖲𝗁𝗁," 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌. "𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒, 𝖨'𝗏𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎." 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾, 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍. 𝖭𝗈𝗐. 𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗇𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗐 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖿. "𝖲𝗍𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉. 𝖨'𝗅𝗅 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗐𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗉 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾. 𝖣𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗁𝗂𝗆." 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗆𝗇𝗅𝗒, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋'𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝗎𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗋𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗌. "𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒, 𝖣𝖺𝖽," 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖿𝗂𝖾𝗅𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋'𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗁𝗈𝖼𝗄𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗂𝗓𝗎𝗋𝖾. 𝖧𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗐𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍. "𝖣𝖺𝖽, 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗆𝖾, 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗂𝗓𝗎𝗋𝖾," 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒. "𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗄 𝗇𝗈𝗐." 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗐 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗑𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗂𝖽𝗅𝗒, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋.

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 11 "What about when you won't look people in the eye?" Chip asks. Plankton nods. "It's not that I don't try to, sometimes it's just too intense," he explains. "It's like looking into the sun. It's just to much. It's part of being on the spectrum." Chip nods, his curiosity unabated. "But why?" he presses on. "Why can't you look at someone's eyes?" Plankton sighs, his eye fluttering closed. "Look, Chip, it's like my brain's got a lot going on," he says. "Looking someone in the eye is like... like uncomfortable, I don't know‽ But when I'm with people I trust, like you and mom, it's easier. Eye contact can be really intense, and it can be overwhelming. But I know we don't mean it that way. It's just how I experience it." "What about when you talk about the same thing over and over again?" Chip asks, his voice careful. Plankton nods. "That's perseveration," he says. "It's like my brain can't let go of an idea. It's not that I don't want to talk about other things; it's just that the idea keeps spinning around in my head. I know it might get repetitive, for others." Karen smiles at Chip's earnestness. "Dad," Chip asks, his voice gentle. "What's your favorite thing about being autistic?" Plankton's antennae twitched in surprise. "Favorite thing?" he repeats. He thinks for a moment, his eye focused on the ceiling. "Well," he says slowly, his antennae lifting a little, "I guess it's my ability to focus on tiny details that others might miss, sometimes." Chip's eyes light up. "Like when you make those amazing inventions?" he asks, his voice filled with admiration. Plankton's antennae perk up slightly, a tiny smile gracing his face. "Yes," he says. "Exactly. It's like my brain is wired to see the world in a unique way, and that helps me solve problems or create things others might not think of." Chip nods, his mind spinning with questions. "What about how you talk in a monotone?" he asks. "Is that part of it?" Plankton nods again. "Yes," he says. "It's because my brain doesn't interpret emotions the way other people do. It's hard for me to express how I'm feeling, like in my voice sometimes. So in every day things, my voice will be flat. But don't worry, it doesn't mean I'm not feeling them. I'm just... different, at showing it." Karen watches them, proud of Chip for his empathy. "Dad, what about people skills?" Chip asks. "Why do you have trouble?" Plankton sighs. "It's because autism affects how I understand unsaid social cues," he explains. "Sarcasm, faces, those things are like a different language to me. I have to learn them. It's hard to read people, to know what they're feeling just by looking. And sometimes, I say things that don't come out right, because I don't always get how they'll be taken." Chip nods, his eyes still wide with curiosity. "But you're so good at understanding mechanics and inventing," he points out. "If you can do that, why is underst--" Plankton's antennae twitch. "It's a different kind of understanding," he says. "My brain is good at patterns and logistics. Social interactions are more complex, less predictable. I might say something in a way that ends up sounding rude, but it's not intentional. It's just... I miss the subtleties. And people usually get upset if you don't get their jokes or understand their expressions. When me and Krabs fed Jenkins our burger, he got food poisoning. I wanted to comfort Krabs by showing we're not to blame, and I said, 'Jenkins is old' and, I've nothing against elderly. Krabs got mad, so I wanted to tweak the burger recipe, but Krabs’s had none of it. So that's why we became enemies." Chip nods, his eyes still glued to his dad. "But what about your relationship with Mom?" he asks. "It's complicated," Plankton admits. "Sometimes my autism can make it hard for me to understand what she's feeling, but we've learned each other's patterns. And she's really patient with me." He glances at Karen, who smiles back, her eyes shimmering with affection. "We usually cook at home or order takeout because crowded restaurants can make me really overwhelmed. She gets it." "But what if she's sad and you don't know it?" Chip persists. "Well, she'll tell me," Plankton says, his antennae twitching. "And if she needs something, she'll explain." He looks over at Karen, who nods in agreement. "It's a team effort, buddy," she says. "We communicate in our own way." "But what if you don't get what she's saying?" Chip asks, his brow furrowed. "Then I'll ask for help," Plankton responds. "Or she'll find another way to tell me. We've had our ups and downs, but we figured it out. It's not always easy, but we love each other. And she knows that I'm trying my best to understand her." "But what about others, Dad?" Chip asks. "Have you ever felt left out?" Plankton's antennae droop. "Yes," he admits, his voice quiet. "There are times when I don't know what's going on, or I miss a joke. And it can be lonely and tiresome. I was the nerdy weirdo, but Krabs was poor so we were both outcasts. But once Krabs perfected the burger recipe for himself, that changed. My only friend left me behind. But yes, kids went out of their way to make sure I was excluded. They'd see I was 'quirky' and a bit of a loner. They'd say I was that slur you used the other day." Chip's eyes widen in horror. "But that's not right," he says. "And I'm sor—" "I know," Plankton nods. "But it's how some people see it. And it's hard to explain to them that it's not my choice. That I'm just different, not less. But they didn't care." "But what about Mr. Krabs?" Chip asks, his voice small. "Couldn't he help?" Plankton's antennae twitch. "Krabs didn't know about my disability, he still doesn't. But now that we're rivals, I doubt he'd change his ways. He's a simple creature, driven by greed. I don't think he's gonna suddenly understand neurodiversity if he found out!" Chip looks down at the floor, his eyes filling with tears. "But why, Dad?" he whispers. "Why did you have to be different?" Plankton's antennae twitch gently as he considers his son's question. "Everyone's different, Chip," he says. "Some people have two eyes, some like me have one. Some people are tall, some like me are short. And some, like me, have brains that work a little differently. Remember I told you when I was born, I got stuck and that changed my brain structure? Well, it's like that. It's just how I ended up, and it's not something anyone could have prevented." Chip nods, his thoughts racing. "But what about friends?" he asks. "Do you have any that understand you?" Plankton's smile is sad. "Friends are hard to come by," he admits. "But I have you and your mom, and that's enough. And there's SpongeBob. He's a good... acquaintance?" He pauses. "He tries to be kind to everyone, but sometimes, well, his enthusiasm can be a bit much. But he's a good egg." Chip looks over at his mom, who nods, her eyes shimmering with pride. "Dad's right," she says. "Now it's getting late, which means bedtime. And you need to let him rest." She stands up, stretching slightly. Plankton nods. "Yeah, I really need some sleep."

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 12 Chip climbs into the bed, his mind racing. "Can I be with you?" he asks, his voice tentative. Plankton opens his eye slightly, looking over at his son. "If you're quiet," he says, his voice tired but not unkind. "But remember, I might stir a bit.." Chip nods, climbing into the bed. He lies down next to his father, his heart racing. Plankton's arm moves slightly, to avoid touching Chip's shoulder. Chip lies there, his mind spinning with the new information about his father. He thinks about his dad's struggles, his dad's brilliance, and his dad's love for them. Plankton's breathing becomes even, a sign he's falling asleep. Karen kisses Chip's forehead and whispers, "I'm proud of you, for wanting to understand." Chip lies there, his thoughts racing. This is the same dad who invents amazing things, who tells the best bedtime stories, and who loves him so much. He looks over at his dad, who's now asleep, single eye closed, his chest rising and falling steadily as he snores lightly. Chip can't help but wonder what it's like to live in his world, where sounds are too loud, lights too bright, and people are too confusing. But he's determined to learn. The room is quiet, except for Plankton's snores as Chip lies there thinking about what his dad said. His heart swells with love and understanding. Eventually, Plankton starts to mumble in his sleep, his voice a whispered jumble of nonsensical words that make no sense to Chip. "Moh-moh- molasses... nuns..." Chip frowns, deciding to nudge his mom awake. "Mom," he whispers, tugging on her arm gently. Karen's eyes open, and she looks at her son, concerned. "What is it?" she whispers back. Chip points to Plankton. "Dad's talking. Is he ok?" Karen nods, her eyes sleepy. "It's just his brain working through it," she whispers back. "And sometimes even when he's sleeping, his thoughts are still busy. It's happened before. It's his brain dreaming," she says. "It's nothing specific, just his mind processing. He'll probably wake up not remembering a thing. Pretty much like a word salad." Chip nods as Plankton resumes his regular snoring. "Okay," he says, his voice still hushed. It makes him want to protect his dad even more, to create a world where his dad doesn't have to feel so overwhelmed. As Chip drifts off to sleep, he makes a silent promise to be the best support he can. The next morning Chip woke up with a determined look on his face. He had an idea to help Plankton feel more comfortable and understood. He grabbed a piece of paper and some crayons from his desk and set to work, his young mind whirring with thoughts. He drew a picture of his dad with a cape on, flapping his hands as he soared over the city, and labeled it 'Super Sensory Dad'. He hoped for it to possibly help his dad feel seen and even understood. Chip smiled as he wrote a message next to the picture: 'Neuro-awesomeness is AUsome. From your sidekick Chip, who loves your special powers!' Chip felt so excited; his dad will love that! Plankton stirred slightly, his antennae twitching as the dawn light crept through the blinds. He blinked open his eye, sitting up as Chip came into view, holding the drawing in his hand. "What's this?" Plankton asked, his voice still raspy with sleep. Chip handed him the drawing, his heart racing. "It's you," he said, his voice filled with excitement. "It's a superhero. 'Super Sensory Dad'. Because your autism is a super power. A special drawing, for my special dad!" Chip beamed. Plankton took the picture, his antennae twitching with surprise. He studied it for a moment, his eye taking in the image and caption.

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 13 But instead of the joy Chip had anticipated, a flicker of discomfort crossed Plankton's face. Plankton's antennae flattened as he looked at the picture, his expression unreadable. "What's wrong, Dad?" Chip asked, his excitement fading as he saw the tension in his father's eye, for Plankton's hand tightened around the drawing, his mouth a thin line. "It's not a super power," Plankton said, his voice sharp. "It's a disorder." He threw the paper to the ground. "It's not something for you to make a game out of." Chip's eyes widened in shock. "But, I thought... you said it made you special," he stuttered. "Special?" Plankton's voice grew louder, his body tensing up. "I can't go to the store without flapping my hands. I can't even look people in the eye. That's not special, Chip. I'm not your little project." Chip's smile disappeared, his eyes filling with confusion. "I just wanted to make you feel better," he said, his voice small. "Well, it doesn't!" Plankton snapped, his antennae quivering. "It doesn't change anything! You don't get to just decide it's a super power because you want it to be!" Chip's eyes filled with tears as he stared at his dad, who was now sitting up in bed, his voice rising with every word. "It's not a game, Chip. It's my life!" Karen awoke and sat up in bed, concern etched on her face at the commotion. "Sheldon," she said, her voice calm, "what's going on?" Plankton took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. "He's making fun of me," he said, his voice quivering. "I'm not making fun of you, Dad," Chip said, his eyes wide with fear. "I just wanted to make you hap–" But Plankton's anger can't be stopped. "I don't need you to make it into something it's not!" he interrupted, his antennae quivering with rage. "It's not cute or heroic! It's exhausting, confusing, and often painful!" Karen stood up. "What happened?" She asks, looking at them. "I just made him a drawing," Chip said, his voice shaking. "To make him feel better." He hands it to her, and she looked at it as understanding dawns on her features. "Plankton he didn't mean to make fun," she said, picking up the crumpled paper. "He's trying to understand and support you. But I can see how it might have upset you." Chip looks confused. "But..." "I know, honey," Karen cuts in gently. "But let's remember, your dad's had a hard time with this his whole life. He's not used to people trying to make it seem... glamorous. It's just his reality, not a costume he can take off. Yet I know you meant well." She turns to Plankton, her voice firm but kind. "Honey, I know you're upset, but you have to understand Chip's just trying to connect and show his love in his own way. He's still learning." Plankton's antennae stop quivering, and he sighs. "I know, Karen," he says. "But it's NOT a toy, it's NOT A GAME!" Karen nods, setting the drawing down on the dresser. "I know, sweetie," she says softly. "But let's talk to Chip abou–" But Plankton's anger isn't abating. "Why can't he ju—" Karen cuts him off. "Let's not do this, okay?" she says, her tone firm but gentle. "Let's not fight." But Plankton can't let it go. "It's not fair!" he says, his body tense but shaky. "I have to deal with this every day, and now you want me to pretend it's never been anything but positive?" He felt his ears ringing and Karen knew the look of overstimulation well. But he's not quite done with anger yet. "Dad," Chip says, his voice small. "I didn't mean to make yo--" "I SAID ENOUGH!" Plankton shouts, and Karen knew that a seizure's edge was near. The overwhelming emotion was too much for him to handle, his headache likely growing by the second. The room grew tense, his antennae quivering with frustration. He stood up, his body shaking slightly, his eye unfocused. "I DON'T LIKE IT!" he yelled. Karen saw the first signs of a seizure starting to form as his breaths quickened. "Plankton, you outta sit down," Karen urged, knowing what stress can do. Sure enough, his body jerked, and he stumbled slightly. Chip's eyes grew wide in terror as he saw his dad's knees give way. Karen rushed over to Plankton, knowing his seizures like the back of her hand, lowering Plankton gently to the floor. Plankton's eye rolls back into his head, his limbs jerking uncontrollably as he was gripped by the seizure. Chip watched, his heart racing. This was the second time he'd seen this, and it was just as terrifying. "It's okay, honey," she whispered to Chip. "This is what we talked about. Remember? Stay calm, don't touch him, and it'll be over soon." Chip nodded, his eyes fixed on his father. Karen quickly moved any sharp objects out of the way, then she knelt beside Plankton, her hand steadying his head, her voice calm and soothing. "It's okay," she murmured. "I'm here." Chip felt guilty as his father's body shook violently. Chip felt his throat tighten as he watched, his heart racing. He knew he had to be strong for his dad. He took a deep breath and whispered, "I'm sorry," hoping the words would penetrate the chaos of Plankton's mind. "It's all my fa-" But he's cut off by his mother's firm voice. "Chip, now is not the time," Karen says, her eyes never leaving Plankton's convulsing form. "This is NOT your fault. Just stay calm and keep talking to him. It'll help him feel safe." Chip nods, his voice steadying as he watches his dad's body contort. He speaks softly, his words meant to soothe. "Dad," he whispers, "I love you. It's okay, you're okay."

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 14 The seizure seems to last an eternity, each second stretching into a minute. "Just keep talking to him. That's all we can do. Keep the drawing out of his line of sight," Karen instructs, her hands steady and calm. Chip nods, his eyes never leaving his father's face. "It's ok, Dad," he repeats as he folds up the paper. Plankton's body stiffens then relaxes, the seizure passing into the postictal phase. His single eye opens slowly, unfocused. Karen holds his hand, her voice calm. "You're okay, you're safe," she repeats. Plankton's speech is slurred, a child- like lilt to his words. "Yi," he says. "Loog?" He looks around, confusion clouding his features. Chip's heart breaks, but he knows what to do. "Hi, Dad," Chip says, his voice gentle. "You had a seizure, but it's over now. You're safe." Plankton's eye widens, trying to to sit up, but Karen eases him back down. "Shh," she whispers, stroking his forehead. "Easy, love. We're right here." Plankton's eye darts around the room, his speech coming out in jumbles. "Ka...ken... Utz...?" His voice cracks, and Chip's heart swells with love and fear. "It's okay, Daddy," Chip says, his voice steady. "You're safe. I'm sorry if I hu-" But Plankton cuts him off, his speech still slurred, his thoughts scattered. "Ha... happy? Haff... h-elp?" Karen's heart breaks as she sees the fear in his eye. "Yes, darling," she says, her voice soothing. "We're here to help. It's okay." She turns to Chip. "Can you get a stim toy?" Chip nods, quickly retrieving a soft, squishy ball from the shelf. He brings it over, placing it gently by Plankton's hand. "Dad, look," Chip says, showing Plankton the ball. "Can you hold it?" Plankton's hand reaches for the ball, his movements slow and clumsy. He squeezes it tentatively, his face contorting as if trying to remember what it's for. His eye is glazed, and his voice slurred. "Buh," he says. Karen nods at Chip. "Good," she whispers. "Keep it up." Chip takes a deep breath. "Can you roll the ball over?" Plankton looks at his hand. "O... kay," he says, his voice thick with confusion. He rolls the ball to Chip, his eye following its path. "Ba... baball," he mumbles. Chip's eyes well up with tears but he forces a smile. "That's right, Dad," Chip says, his voice shaky but hopeful as he rolls the ball back to him again. "It's a ball. You can roll it back to me." The simple act of interaction seems to help Plankton. He rolls the ball to Chip, antennae twitching slightly. "Ga... game?" he asks, his voice still out of it. Chip nods, his smile growing. "Yeah, Dad," he says. "We're playing catch. Just like we always do. Do you remembe---" But Plankton's eye glazes over again, his hand dropping the stim toy. "G-game," he stammers, his speech jumbled. "It's okay, Dad," Chip says, his voice soothing despite his concern. "You're safe now." He picks up the ball, rolling it back to his father gently. Plankton watches the ball's journey with sluggish curiosity, his eye still unfocused. "M-make... it... go?" His hand reaches out, his grip unsteady as he tries to roll the ball back. It wobbles before finally reaching Chip. "Good job, Dad," Chip praises, his heart heavy. "You're doing great." Karen's eyes are filled with love. "Good Chip, just keep talking to him," she whispers. Chip nods, his voice shaky. "Dad, remember we talked about how you see the world?" Plankton's single eye flickers, his antennae moving slightly. "You're so good at making things, because you notice details others don't. That's because of your autism. It's not a weakness, it's a strength." Plankton's gaze focuses a bit more, his eye searching Chip's face. "Ma... make... things?" He whispers. "Ma... make... bah?" Chip nods, his smile gentle. "You make amazing things, Dad. Your inventions are like none other because of how your brain works. It's not a bad thing," he says, trying to reassure his father. "It's what makes you, you." Plankton's hand shakes as he fumbles with the stim toy. "B-but... Ka... Chi... Utch...?" Karen sighs, her heart aching. "It's okay, love," she says, her voice a gentle whisper. "We're here. You're okay." Plankton's hand continues to fumble with the ball, his movements erratic and slightly uncoordinated. "Ma... mesh... ba... baball?" he mumbles, his brain still in a state of confusion. Chip nods, his heart aching. "It's okay, Dad," he says, his voice filled with patience. "You just had a seizure. You need some time to recover." Karen watches as Chip interacts with Plankton, his words gentle and understanding. She's proud of how he's handling the situation, despite the fear that must be coursing through his young body. She smiles at him, giving a small nod of encouragement. Plankton's gaze shifts, his eye still not quite focused as he laughs softly. "Ma... m-m-make me," he stammers, his voice childlike in innocence. "Meeeeeee.." Karen's heart clenches at the sound of his babbling. She knows this phase all too well, the aftermath of a seizure leaving Plankton in a vulnerable, confused state. "We're right here, baby," she coos, her hand stroking his arm. She knew the neuroregression he experiences all too well.

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 15 Chip's eyes are filled with worry as he watches his father's struggle. "Dad," he says, his voice soothing. "We're here. It's okay." He reaches for the ball, yet Plankton's hand flaps it away, his gaze distant. He starts to laugh again. "Ma... ma... make me happy," Plankton says, his voice a mix of confusion and joy. Karen's eyes water as she sees the innocence in her husband's gaze, his autism making his thoughts a tangled mess. "You're okay," she whispers, her voice soothing, but she plays along, knowing it's part of his post-seizure state. "Yes, love," she says. Plankton giggles, his hands flapping slightly. "Ma... me... make... happy," he repeats, his eye locking onto the squishy ball. It's a sight that makes Chip's heart ache, but he joins in, his voice gentle. "We're playing catch, remember?" He rolls the ball back to Plankton, who's hand reaches for it again, his movements more purposeful now. His fingers graze the toy, his laughter subsiding. "Ga... good?" he says, his voice a soft echo. Karen nods, her eyes brimming with tears. "Yes, baby," she says. "You're doing so good." Plankton's hand closes around the ball, his grip firming as he tries to focus, his antennae twitching slightly as he starts fully coming back, groaning as he leans on to his hands. He gets himself upright, a bit confused/disoriented. Chip's heart races as he sees his father's condition improve. "Dad," he says, his voice filled with hope. "Do you want to sit down?" Plankton looks at his son, his eye blinking slowly as he tries to process the words. "Sit... down?" he repeats. Karen nods, gesturing to the bed. "What happened?" he asks, his voice weak but growing more clear. Karen sighs, her hands shaking slightly. "You had a seizure, honey," she says, her voice gentle. "But it's over now." Plankton's eye widen slightly as he looks around the room, his mind slowly piecing together the events. "Oh," he murmurs, his hand moving to his head. "The... drawing?" Karen nods, her voice soft. "You got upset. You had a seizure." Plankton looks down at the folded paper, his expression a mix of embarrassment and anger. "I didn't mean to scare you," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm s-sorry." Chip's eyes widen, his heart racing. "Dad, I just wanted to make you feel better." Plankton's gaze meets Chip's, his expression filled with remorse. "I know," he says, his voice a mere murmur. "But sometimes, it's just... too much." He sighs, his body still trembling slightly. "I didn't mean to..." Karen wraps an arm around Plankton, her eyes filled with love and understanding. "It's okay," she whispers. "We know." She turns to Chip, her expression earnest. "Your dad's brain works differently, Chip. It's not his fault. And, it's not your fault for trying to be nice. We all just need to find better ways to support each other." Chip nods, his eyes still on Plankton. "I'm sorry, Dad," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn't know it'd be rude, I just made it to show how much I care." Plankton's gaze softens slightly, his antennae twitching as he processes his son's words. "I know you did, buddy," Plankton says, his speech still slurred. "But autism isn't a costume or a game. It's how I am." He takes a deep breath, his hand finding Karen's. "It's hard for me to explain sometimes. It's just... it's complicated." Chip nods, his eyes filling with tears. "But you're still my hero," he says, his voice shaky. "And I'll always love you no matter wh-" But Plankton cuts him off, his voice firm. "I understand," he says, his antennae flattening. "I l-love y-you too. Yet I'm not... I'm not okay with this right now." Karen looks at Chip, her gaze pleading. "Honey, why don't you sit down? Let your dad have a moment." Chip nods, his eyes brimming with tears. He sits on the edge of the bed, his heart racing as he watches his father. Plankton's eye is now focused, but the exhaustion is palpable. "I just want to make sure you're okay," Chip says, his voice barely a whisper. "I don't want you to be up-" But Plankton shakes his head. Karen sighs. "Chip, he's okay. He just needs his own moment. He's not up to talking right now." Chip nods, his eyes still on his father. Chip watches as his dad's face twists into an expression of sadness. "It's not a game," he murmurs, talking to himself as Karen recognized it as his stim. "I know," Chip says quickly. "But it's part of who you are. And that's am-" "Chip," Karen interrupts, her tone firm but gentle. "Come sit by me on my bed," Karen says, getting off Plankton's bed. Chip does so, sitting on the bed placed adjacent. "Chip," Karen begins quietly, "Your dad's talking to himself in a stim, and it's not for us to interrupt. He's in his own personal space, and he dislikes that right now. Remember, his stims are only for him and we shouldn't make a fuss about it. It's his way, and he personally gets frustrated when we needlessly interrupt." Chip nods, his throat tight with unshed tears. "I just don't want him to be sad," he says, his voice quivering. Karen hugs him close. "I know, baby," she whispers. "But sometimes, it's okay for people to be sad. And sometimes, the best thing we can do is just let them be. We can't fix everything. All his emotions are valid." Chip nods, his eyes still on Plankton. He whispers, "I'll always be here for you, Dad." Plankton's antennae twitch as he hears his son's words, his stimming pausing briefly. He looks over, his eye meeting Chip's. "Thank you," he murmurs. "I... I just n-need a moment." Chip nods, his heart swelling with love and regret.

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 16 Karen sits down next to Chip, pulling him into a hug. "It's going to be ok," she whispers. "And he's proud of you for trying to understand." Plankton's stimming continues, his hand moving in repetitive motions, his gaze fixed on the wall. Karen can feel the tension in his body slowly dissipate. He starts to murmur, his words barely audible. "Did... I do something wrong?" He mumbles as he pulls his knees up to his chest, now rocking back and forth. "Say others don't want me because I'm... dif-fer-ent." The words are like a knife to Chip's heart, but he knows not to interrupt. Plankton's voice cracks. "Why can't they see that I'm more than... I'm not a monster," he whispers, his voice full of pain. Chip's eyes brim with emotion. Karen squeezes Chip's hand as Plankton's mumbling continues, his voice filled with a world of hurt. "I... I just want to be," he says, his hands flapping slightly as he speaks. "But I... I can't." His voice is a jumbled mess of thoughts, but his pain is clear. Chip's heart breaks hearing his dad's self-doubt, his young mind trying to grasp the depth of Plankton's lifelong struggle. He wants to run to him, to tell him he's not different, he's just... unique. But Karen's grip holds him back. "He needs this," she whispers. "To let out his thoughts." Plankton's voice continues to murmur. "I'm not... not... not," he repeats, his voice getting softer with each word. It's as if he's trying to convince his own brain that he's worthy of love and acceptance. Chip watches, his heart in his throat. He's never seen his dad this vulnerable, this broken. It's a stark contrast to the cunning, determined man he knows from their battles against Mr. Krabs. He wants to comfort him, to tell him that he's enough just as he is, but knows he needs to give his dad space, feeling his own tears fall as he listens to his dad's whimpers, filled with self-doubt and fear of being misunderstood. Plankton's body trembles as he continues to rock, his antennae drooping. He's curling into himself, a protective shell against the world that's often too loud, too bright, too much. His voice is a soft whisper, a plea to his own mind. "I'm not a burden," he says, his words almost silent. Chip carefully selects a spinner from the nightstand, his hands trembling slightly. He approaches Plankton, his heart racing. "Dad," he says softly, holding out the toy. "Would you li—" "No!" Plankton yells, his voice sharp. "Don't touch.." Chip freezes. Karen stands up, turning to Chip. "Chip," she says gently, "remember, his space is his when he's like this." Chip nods, his eyes filling with tears as he puts the spinner right back on the nightstand the way as he found it. "But he's hurting," Chip whispers, his voice filled with despair. "I don't want him to—" Karen nods, her eyes reflecting his pain. "I know," she says, her voice soft. "But this is how he deals with it. And we have to respect that. Remember, he's trying to sort through his feelings without getting overwhelmed." Chip sniffs, his hands clutching the bedspread. "But w---" "Chip," Karen says firmly. "Let him be. We're here if he needs us, but this is his process." Chip nods, his eyes still on Plankton. Plankton's whispers turn into a soft, almost inaudible, humming. "Hmmmmm.." Chip's eyes are fixed on his dad, his heart breaking as he watches him from the bed. Plankton's humming increases slightly in volume. Karen sighs. "It's okay," she whispers. "This is your dad's way to calm down. To find his center again." Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's form. He's seen his dad upset before, but never like this. It's a sight that makes him feel so powerless. He wipes away a stray tear. The room is silent except for Plankton's hums. Karen watches her husband with a mix of love and sadness, her hand still clutching Chip's. Plankton's rocking slows down, his hums becoming softer until they're barely a breath. Karen can see the exhaustion in his posture, his shoulders drooping. "It's okay," she whispers. Plankton's eye finally meets Karen's, and she sees the fear in it, the knowledge of his own vulnerability. She nods, her eyes filled with understanding. "Come here," she says, patting the space beside her on the bed. Plankton's antennae twitch, and he looks uncertain. But then, slowly, he unfurls himself, his legs swinging over the side of the bed, his bare feet touching the floor as he goes over to Karen's bed. He sits down, his body still tense. Karen opens her arms, and Plankton collapses into them, his body curling into a ball as he presses into her, his antennae drooping. "It's okay," she whispers, stroking his back. "You're safe." Chip watches, his heart in his throat. He's never seen his dad this way before. So vulnerable, so... clingy. It's strange, but also somehow comforting. Plankton is usually so independent, so strong. But here, in this moment, he's just a scared, overwhelmed person who needs comfort. Plankton scoots closer. "M-my head hurts," he mumbles, his voice still shaky. Karen nods, her eyes filled with sympathy. "I know, love. It's part of the overwhelm. Just let it pass." Chip watches his parents, feeling like an outsider in this intimate moment. He wipes away a tear. Plankton's grip tightens around Karen's. "I'm here," she whispers, rocking him slightly. "It's okay." Chip's eyes are fixed on his dad, his heart breaking for him. He's never seen him so... needy.

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 17 Plankton's body relaxes slightly, his breathing evening out as Karen continues to stroke his back. Chip feels a lump in his throat. He wants to help, to ease his dad's pain. "I never meant to hurt you," he whispers, his voice hoarse with emotion. Karen looks over, her expression a mix of love and sadness. "You didn't, sweetie," she says. "But sometimes, even good intentions can be overwhelming for your dad. It's not your fault. Just like it's not his." Plankton's antenna twitches, his gaze shifting to Chip. He takes a deep breath as Karen's hands continue to stroke his back. His body relaxes a little more, his grip on Karen loosening. "Dad?" Chip whispers, his voice tentative. Plankton eye opens. "Can I...?" Chip gestures towards his dad, his hand now outstretched. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his eye darting to Karen. She nods, her smile reassuring. "If you like," she whispers. With tentative movements, Chip's hand reaches for his father's shoulder. Plankton flinches slightly. "Gentle." Chip nods, his touch featherlight as he rests his hand on Plankton's shoulder. "It's okay," he murmurs. Plankton's body relaxes a fraction more under the warmth of his son's hand, his eye now closing. Karen's eyes meet Chip's, and she smiles weakly, her gaze filled with gratitude. "Thank you," she mouths. Chip nods, his hand still on his dad. Plankton's humming has stopped, his breathing steadying as Karen holds him. For the first time, Chip feels a profound sense of understanding for his father. He's seen his strength in the face of Mr. Krabs' competition, his genius in his inventions, but now he sees his softer side, his vulnerability. And it makes him love his dad even more. Plankton's breaths have now turned into a soft snore, his body relaxed against Karen's. Chip can see the exhaustion in every line of his father's face, a testament to the battle he's just faced. "He's asleep," Karen whispers, her voice filled with love and relief. Chip nods, his hand still on Plankton's shoulder. "Should we...?" Karen shakes her head. "Let him rest," she says, her voice a mere whisper. "He's had a long day." Plankton's clinginess was a stark contrast to his usual demeanor. Karen knew all too well the emotional toll his seizures took on him. But it was the first time Chip had seen his dad so... dependent on someone else for comfort. It was jarring, but it also made him realize the strength that Plankton held within himself, the courage to face, alone. As Plankton sleeps, his snores are rhythmic. It's a sound that Karen finds soothing, a sign that he's at peace. His body seems to melt into her side, his muscles unclenched. Chip watches him, his mind racing with thoughts. He's seen his dad's fiery temper, his ingenious inventions, his unwavering drive, but never this, raw and exhausted. It's a stark contrast that makes his chest ache. Plankton's snores remain steady, his body completely relaxed against Karen's side. Karen looks over at Chip, her expression a mix of love and sadness. "He's been through a lot," she whispers. "But he's stronger than anyone I know." Chip nods, his hand still resting lightly on his father's shoulder. Karen gently shifts Plankton, getting ready to tuck him into his bed, his snores unchanged, his mind resting. Karen carefully slides her arm from underneath Plankton's head, her movements practiced and gentle. Chip watches, his eyes never leaving his father's face, as if afraid to miss anything. Plankton's snores hitch, but don't stop. As Karen pulls the covers over Plankton, his snores don't miss a beat. His body sags against the pillow, his antennae still. Chip watches his dad sleep, a sight that both comforts and saddens him. He's seen Plankton's fiery determination in their battles against Mr. Krabs, but now his father seems so small, so vulnerable. Karen nods to Chip, whispering, "Why don't you go to your room? I'll keep an eye on him." Chip hesitates, his hand still on Plankton's shoulder. "But what if he wakes up?" Chip's concern is palpable, but Karen's smile is reassuring. "I'll wake you if he needs you," she promises. "But he's in a good place right now. He just needs rest." Chip nods, his hand lingering on Plankton's shoulder for a moment longer. He gently withdraws it, his gaze still locked on his father. "Okay," he whispers, his voice barely audible. Karen stands up, her movements silent as she crosses the room. "You've had a long day too," she says softly, her hand on Chip's shoulder. "Why don't you get some sleep as well? Your dad's got an appointment tomorrow with his sensory therapist." But Chip's eyes widen. "What‽" "It's okay," Karen whispers, her hand on Chip's shoulder. "It's just to help him and us understand his senses better." The next morning Karen wakes Chip up. "We're about to go; I'll wake your dad." Chip nods sleepily, his eyes still adjusting to the light. He walks into the room to find Plankton still asleep, his body still curled into a tiny ball, his snores steady and deep.

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 26 The room is silent except for the sound of his quiet sobs, his body shaking with the force of his emotion. The pillow is damp from his tears. He clutches it tightly to his chest. His antennae hang limply, no longer twitching with his usual energy. "It's not your fault," he whispers again, his voice shaking. "It's not your fault. Why did it take this for him to see me?" He wipes his eye with the back of his hand, sniffling. "But he did see me," he says, his voice a little stronger. "He saw me and didn't laugh." He lies down, his body exhausted from the day's emotional rollercoaster. The weight of his thoughts presses down on him like a heavy blanket, making his eyelid feel heavy. He takes deep breaths, his body slowly calming down. "It's not your fault," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "You're not." The darkness of the room envelops him, the silence a stark contrast to the cacophony of his thoughts. His hand reaches for a favorite plushie, the small, squishy octopus that Chip had picked out for him. He squeezes it tightly, his body curling around it. The softness and familiarity of it grounds him, bringing a small measure of comfort. "It's not your fault," he murmurs, his voice like a lullaby to himself. Plankton's sobs have slowed, his breaths now hitching in his chest. His antennae lie flat, his body still. The words repeat in his head, a comforting mantra. "It's not your fault." He whispers it again and again, his voice soft and soothing. He closes his eye, his grip on the plushie loosening slightly. His thoughts are a jumble, but he tries to sort them out, one by one. Krabs had seen his weakness, his fear, and instead of mocking him, he'd been... kind. Plankton's mind reels with the implications. Was it pity? Or could it be... respect? He doesn't know. All he knows is that it feels... different. The darkness wraps around him like a cocoon, his plushie a silent witness to his pain. His thoughts swirl. What does it mean? Does Krabs really see him now? Or is this just a fluke? Yet his breathing evens out, his body relaxing into the embrace of the bed. as sleep claims him. The room is still, his plushie a silent sentinel keeping watch over his slumber. His stims cease, his hands uncurling from their tight fists. His eyelid flutters closed, his antennae drooping. Plankton's breathing deepens, his body surrendering to sleep. Karen, outside the door, leans closer, finally heard the gentle snores that signal he's asleep. She wipes a tear from her eye and slowly opens the door, peeking in to check on her husband. Plankton's body is still, his antennae no longer quivering with stress. He's curled into a tiny ball, his plushie pressed against his chest. Karen watches from the doorway, her heart heavy with the weight of emotions. She wants to rush in, to pull him into a tight embrace, to whisper that everything will be okay. But she knows better. He needs this space, this silence, to process today. The next morning, Karen awakes to find Plankton sitting by her on her bed, holding hands. "I'm sorry," he says. "For what?" she asks. "For pushing you away." Karen shakes her head. "You didn't push me away," she says, squeezing his hand. "You needed space." Her voice is gentle. "It's okay to be upset." Her eyes are filled with understanding. "It's okay to need time." He looks at her, his eye searching. "But I was mean," he whispers. "No, you're overwhelmed." Her smile is soft. "And that's okay. I know it's a lot to take in." Plankton nods slowly. They sit in silence, their hands entwined. Karen's thumb strokes the back of his hand, a soothing gesture that Plankton has come to rely on. "I'm here," she says. "I'll always be here." He swallows hard, his antennae twitching. "Thank y-you," he whispers. Suddenly, there's a knock on the front door. Chip's camp friend, JoJo, was here to visit Chip. "Hi, JoJo!" he says, opening the door wide. "How are you?" JoJo smiles shyly. "I'm okay," they said, their eyes darting around. "Do your parents know about me?" Chip shook his head. "I haven't really gotten around to talking much about camp because uh, family situation. Everything's fine though!" Karen heard the door and talking. "Who's Chip talking to?" "I don't know Plankton, but it doesn't sound like Krabs. I'll go check!" She left the bedroom, her heart racing. Who did Chip let in? "Oh, my mom's coming!" Chip says to JoJo. "Mom, meet JoJo; I met them at my camp!" Karen enters the living room. "Well, it's nice to me—" Karen falters at the sight of JoJo. JoJo has two heads, each looking at her with a shy smile. She quickly recovers, her face a mask of polite interest. "Hello," she says, extending her hand. "It's um, nice to meet you, JoJo?" she says awkwardly, not sure how to greet someone with two heads. She never even knew such a condition existed! Her eyes darted between Chip and JoJo. Chip's grin is wide, his eyes shining with excitement. "Yeah, JoJo's my new friend from camp!" he says. Karen's heart swells with pride at her son's openness and kindness. JoJo's heads nod in unison, their eyes sparkling. "Hi, Mrs. Plankton," one head says, while the other nods, adding, "It's great to meet you!" Karen's hand shakes JoJo's, her mind racing with questions. How does it feel to be two in one? How do they see the world? How do they... WHAT? Her thoughts stumble over themselves, and she quickly recovers with a warm smile. "Welcome to our home," she says, hoping to cover her initial shock. But JoJo notices. "It's okay," one of JoJo's heads says with a gentle smile. "Lots of people are surprised at first." The other head nods. "I get it," they add. "It's just how we are. We identify as one person." Karen's mouth opens and closes, trying to find the right words. "Okay! Um... I, I'm sorry if I was rude," she stammers. "I just wasn't expecting... I mean, it's just that..." "You're not the first," the second head says with a laugh. "And you won't be the last." JoJo's eyes, all of them, are kind. "It's fine, really. And I know what you're wondering, but our parents are both single- headed," they explain. Karen can't help but laugh a little, her nerves easing. "Chip's dad, just to warn you, can be blunt. He's curious and loves science so I'm sure he'll most likely ask more questions," Karen tells JoJo. JoJo nods, both heads thinking the same thing. "It's okay," they say. "We're used to it." Karen looks at her son, who's beaming, his face lit up by the simple joy of having a friend over. "So, what do you want to do?" Chip asks, his voice excited. JoJo's heads look at each other, then back at Chip. "How about a game?" they suggest.

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 27 Plankton ventured out of the bedroom to find Karen and Chip, but also two guests? He heard the knock on the door and came to see, not yet noticing the heads shared the same body. "Hi, Dad!" Chip called out. "This is JoJo, my new camp friend!" Plankton emerged from the hallway. "I didn't know we're having company.." He saw Chip and... another child? But he was coming from the side, not seeing that they're one kid. Plankton approached, his eye squinting. "Hi," he managed, his voice a little unsure. "And, who's the other one?" He asks, pointing to the other. "They're both JoJo," Chip clarifies, his voice filled with excitement. "Hello!" JoJo says as they turn to face Plankton, now in front of him. He then sees the one body, sharing both heads. Plankton's antennae twitch in surprise, his eye wide. "You're joined," he states, his voice soft and curious. JoJo nods, both heads tilting slightly. "Bicephalous," they explain. "It's a rare condition. We aren't twins, yet we share a body. It's complicated to explain!" One head giggles while the other says, "I'm sure you being a one header won't know what it's like to have both teachers and students see you as the class weirdo despite getting good grades.." Plankton's eye narrows. "What do you mean?" "I mean, Chip says you're so good at science. We bet the other one headers loved you for it!" JoJo says. "We're smart, but some weren't so accepting and had to sometimes get taken out of class just because of how we're born! But you're lucky to be admired for your intelligence without worrying about bullies.." Plankton's gaze falters. Being autistic, he's gone through the same thing! Despite being the best at science, he's been singled out repeatedly. He looks at JoJo, his heart aching. He knows exactly what it's like to be seen as different, to have people whisper about you, to be misunderstood. He takes a deep breath, his antennae drooping. "Actually," he says, "I've a neurodisability, making some stuff easier but others hard." JoJo's heads lean in, their curiosity piqued. "Oh, cool!" one says. "What kin-" But Karen cuts them off. "He's a bit sensitive about it, with his own experiences," she explains gently. JoJo nods. "We all have things," they say. Plankton looks at them, his antennae twitching in thought. "Would you like to play?" Chip asks, his voice hopeful. JoJo nods, their heads bobbing. "Sure, I'd love to," they say. JoJo follows Chip to his bedroom, leaving Karen and Plankton face to face. Karen looks at him, concern etched into every line of her face. "Are you okay?" she asks, her voice gentle. Plankton nods, his antennae still. "I'm fine," he says, his voice quiet. "It's just..." He pauses, searching for the right words. "It's just that JoJo, they're... different, more than me." He sighs, looking at his son's retreating back. "I know how it feels to be... less than, to be seen as a freak," he whispers. Karen squeezes his hand. "You're not a freak, Plankton." Her voice is firm, her gaze steady. "You're you. And you're incredible." He looks at her, his eye glistening. "But what if Chip... what if he doesn't understand?" Her grip tightens. "Chip understands more than you think. And JoJo, they're different too, in their own way. They'll learn from each other." Their eyes lock, and Plankton sees the love and determination in Karen's gaze. He nods. "Okay," he says, his voice shaky. "Okay." They walk into Chip's room, where the two children are already engrossed in a board game, their heads bent over the colorful pieces. Plankton watches them, his antennae twitching. The sight of Chip laughing with JoJo, his excitement unbridled, makes him feel a swell of pride. His heart aches for the times he couldn't connect with others, but here, his son is, sharing his world with someone who's different too. He watches as Chip explains the rules of his favorite game, his voice earnest and his eyes shining. JoJo's heads nod in understanding, their smiles matching Chip's. "Karen," Plankton says to his wife, "I'm gonna go to the Krusty Krab to see what happens." Karen looks at him, surprise in her eyes. "Again? Even aft-" "Yeah," he cuts her off. "I need to understand." Karen nods. She knows. "Be safe," she whispers, kissing his cheek. Plankton nods, his antennae twitching slightly. "I will," he promises, his voice determined. He heads out the door, the fresh ocean air whipping around him. The Krabby Patty factory looms in the distance, its lights always on. He's been here before, but today is different. He's going alone, not as a thief, but as himself. He opens the door, his heart racing. Krabs looks up, his eyes widening. "What do you want?" he said. Plankton's antennae twitch. "To talk," he says, his voice steady. Krabs frowns, but nods, gesturing to the counter. Plankton slides onto the stool, his body tense. "What about?" Krabs asks, although he's figured out exactly why Plankton came. Plankton takes a deep breath. "I wanted to... talk about what happe—" Krabs interrupts, his claws tapping on the countertop. "You mean the other day?" His eyes narrow slightly. "Why? I kicked out that ableist!" Plankton nods. "I know. Thank you for that." His voice is sincere. "But I wanted to talk about..." He pauses, gathering his thoughts. "About me," he finally says. "What your knowledge of my autism means for us.." Krabs' claws still, his expression unreadable. "Look, Plankton," he says, his voice gruff. "I dunno much about all that brain- stuff. But if it's important to you, I'll try." This is his chance to bridge the gap, to explain his world to someone who's never truly understood. Plankton's antennae quiver. "It's just," he starts, his voice shaky. "When you see me, do you see me?" He looks into Krabs' eyes, his own filled with hope and fear. "Or do you now see autism?" Krabs' face softens, his claws still. He considers the question. "I see you," he says, his voice firm. "And yes, I see the autism. But it's not all of you. Which is why I'll still keep me eyes peeled for any shenanigans!" A small smile plays on his lips, hinting at his understanding. Plankton's antennae quiver. "But it's a part of me," he says. "A big part." Krabs nods. "Aye, it is," he says. "And it's why I'm tryin' to be more... understandin'." He pauses, his eyes searching Plankton's. "I don't always get it, but I'll try. But still, hands off me secret recipes as always, yeah?" Plankton can't help but laugh a little, his antennae lifting slightly. "Always," he promises. "Still, can't say I won't try!" Krabs' smile widens. "Aye, get on outta here before you do!" He waves Plankton off, both their hearts lighter. The conversation lingers in Plankton's mind as he walks back home. The Krusty Krab no longer feels like enemy territory. It's still competitive, but now it's tinged with a new dynamic. One of... camaraderie? Or at least mutual understanding. JoJo is just leaving as Plankton returns back. "It was great meeting you, Mr. Plankton!" JoJo says, their heads nodding in unison. Plankton's always felt so isolated in his differences, and now he sees that Chip is forming bonds with someone who's even more unique. "You too." Plankton replies.

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) pt. 3 Chip looked up, his eyes reflecting the confusion he felt. "What happened, Mom?" he asked, his voice smaller than usual. Karen took a deep breath, trying to keep her anger in check. "Your dad is upset," she began, her voice tight. "You used a word that hurt his feelings." Chip's eyes widened in shock. "What wor—" "Don't lie to me," Karen snapped, her voice unusually harsh. "I know what you said. That word is not okay." Chip looked at her, his face a picture of innocence and confusion. "But it's just what you said," he protested. "What?" Karen's voice was a mix of anger and despair. "I only talked about your dad's autism, Chip. I never called him that." Chip had only been trying to repeat what he thought she had told him. "But I didn't know it was bad," he whispered, his eyes welling up. "I just didn't know what to call it." Karen sat by him. "Do you understand why Dad was upset?" Chip nodded, his eyes brimming with tears. "But I didn't know it was a bad word," he said, his voice cracking. "What's it mean?" Karen took a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions from overwhelming her. "It's a very hurtful word," she explained gently. "It's used to hurt of people who are different, like those who have neurological conditions like your dad's. It's not right, and it's not even accurate." Chip felt his heart sink. "But Mom," Chip protested, "I didn't mean it like th-" Karen's voice was firm but not without gentleness. "It doesn't matter how you meant it, Chip. That word is not acceptable. It's hurtful and it makes people feel less than who they are. Your dad is not 'that'. He's just your dad, and he loves you more than anything." Chip looked down, his screen blurring with tears. He hadn't meant to cause pain, but the realization of what he'd done made his stomach twist with guilt. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. Karen sighed, her frustration dissipating into sadness. She knew her son wasn't cruel—just confused. "I know you didn't mean it, Chip," she said, her voice softening. "But it's important that you know that words have power. They can build people up or tear them down." Chip nodded, feeling the weight of his mistake. He had never seen his mother so upset, and he hated that he was the cause. "Let's go talk to Dad," Karen said, her voice softening. "We need to tell him that you didn't mean it, and that you understand now." They walked back to the bedroom, Karen's hand in his. Plankton sat on the bed, his back to them. "Daddy?" Chip's voice was tentative. Plankton's body tensed, his antennae twitching with the effort not to turn around. "It's okay, Plankton," Karen said softly, stepping forward. "Chip didn't know that word was hurtful. He's sor-" Plankton's antennae shot up, his eye burning with a mix of sadness and pain. "How could you, Karen?" he spat out, his voice shaking. "You, of all people. How could you let him think that about me?" Karen stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I didn't, Plankton. Chip just heard me mention your autism and he didn't underst--" But Plankton jerked away, his antennae quivering with frustration. "That's not what he said!" Karen's screen filled with puzzlement. "What did he say, then?" "That you said I was..." Plankton paused, his antennae drooping. "That I was... that." Karen's eyes searched his face, her heart breaking. "Plankton, no. I swear, I would never use that word for you. You're not 'that'. You're just you—my love, my partner, Chip's dad. Autism is just a part of yo-" But Plankton was too caught up in his own turmoil to hear her. "It's always been there," he whispered, his antennae drooping. "Everyone else can see it. Why couldn't I?" Chip watched, feeling his own heart break at the sight of his dad's pain. He wanted to fix it, to make everything right again. "Daddy," he said, his voice shaking with emotion. "I don't think you're that way. You're just... Daddy." Plankton's antennae perked up slightly at the sound of his son's voice. He turned to face them, his eye swollen with unshed tears. "I'm sorry," Chip continued, his voice trembling. "I didn't know that word was bad. I just wanted to tell you how much I love y—" "Love?" Plankton choked out, his antennae twitching. "How can you love someone who's... who's like me? After all, you just called me tha-" "Daddy, I didn't know it was bad," Chip said, his voice filled with sincerity. "But I do now. And it doesn't change anything. You're still my dad. You're still the best person I kno—" But Plankton can't bear to hear any more. "Get out!" he roared. Karen and Chip stared at his outburst, shocked by his sudden anger. They could see the pain in his eye, the deep-seated fear of being misunderstood.

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 8 Chip's eyes well up, his body shaking. He doesn't understand why his dad is so angry with him. He thought he was just trying to help. "Dad, please," he whispers, his voice thick with unshed tears. "I just wan–" "NO!" Plankton shouts, pushing his son away. Plankton's sobs turn to heavy breaths. Karen watches them both, her heart breaking. Chip's eyes brim with tears as he retreats, his voice barely a whisper. "But Dad..." Plankton turns to his side, his back facing Chip, his antennae thrashing violently. "I'M TRYING!" He screams into the silent room. Chip then makes the mistake of putting his hand on his dad's shoulder. "Don't touch me!" Plankton shrieks, his body jolting. The room seems to shrink around them, the tension pressing down like a heavy wet blanket. Chip feels a wave of fear wash over him. He's seen his dad upset before, but never like this. He moves his hand away, his throat tight. "I'm so sor—" "I SAID, DON'T TOUCH ME!" Plankton's scream reverberates through the room, echoing off the walls as his sobbing turns to anger, his body stiff as he glares at Chip. Chip jumps back, his heart racing. He's never seen his dad like this, so out of control. He looks to Karen, his eyes wide with fear. "What's happe—" "Chip," she says quickly, her voice sharp with urgency. "Give him some space. Now." She moves closer to Plankton, her hand outstretched but not touching, giving him the option. Chip nods, his face crumpled with hurt and confusion. He retreats to his own bed, his eyes on the floor. The room feels like it's closing in on them, the silence deafening. Plankton's sobs turn to angry grunts as his breaths become more pronounced. Karen sits next to Plankton, her hand hovering near his, but not touching. "It's okay, babe," she whispers. "We're here." Plankton's body tenses further. "I DON'T NEED CHIP'S HELP!" He doesn't wanna lash out, yet Karen knows he needs to let out the storm inside. She can feel the energy building in Plankton, his body a coil ready to snap. With a sudden explosion of rage, Plankton yells, "I'M THE ONE WITH A PROBLEM‽" Plankton's limbs flail erratically, his voice hoarse from screaming. Karen's heart aches for him, for the pain he's in, the pain he can't express in any other way. She needs to redirect his energy. "Plankton," she says firmly, her hand still hovering just out of reach. "Take a deep breath." But Plankton's too far gone. He starts to kick the bed, the mattress shaking as his body thrashes. Karen flinches, but doesn't move as the tantrum intensifies, his tiny fists slamming into the mattress. Karen's eyes are wide, her body tense, but she remains calm, knowing that this is part of his coping mechanism. He kicks the bed harder, his fists clenching the covers. Yet Karen remains steady, her voice calm and firm. "Hey, look at me," she instructs, her hand still hovering. "Take a deep breath with me." He doesn't move, his fists clenched in the sheets. Her voice doesn't waver. "In and out, babe. In and ou-" Suddenly, Plankton's body goes rigid. He inhales deeply, his antennae shaking with the effort. His eye snaps to hers, his breath hitching. For a moment, there's silence. Karen holds her breath, noticing he's gonna have one of his seizures. Then as Chip comes back through the curtain Plankton starts to shake as it finally took over. Karen tucks Plankton in loosely. "Dad?" Chip asks, his voice shaking. Karen's eyes dart to him, filled with the knowledge that he's gonna be fine. "It's ok Chip," she whispers. "Just watch from here." Plankton's body shakes harder, his breaths coming in short bursts. He's lost in a world of sensory overload, his body reacting to the chaos around him. Karen strokes his arm gently. "It's ok, Plankton," she whispers. "We are right here." The seizure lasts for a few moments, and as it now subsides, Plankton's body goes limp with exhaustion. Karen knew his postictal phase can bring on some loopiness. Plankton's antennae twitch erratically, his eye unfocused. He giggles, a sound so unlike his usual self. "Karen? Oh! You're so...shiny." Karen can't help but smile at her husband's post-seizure loopy state. "Yes, I'm right here," she says. Chip's eyes are wide with worry, his voice a tremble. "Is he okay?" Karen nods, her smile tinged with sadness. "He's in his post- seizure phase. It's normal for him to be like this." Plankton giggles again, his voice slurred as he tries to sit up, his body wobbly. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he mutters. He then reaches for Karen, his hand missing by a mile. Chip watches, his heart racing. He's seen his dad act weird before, but never like this.. "It's part of his autism, Chip," Karen explains gently, her hands steady. "After a big meltdown or usually a seizure, he can get disoriented." Plankton's head lolls to the side, his antennae twitching erratically. "You're...so...far away..." He giggles, his body swaying slightly with the effort of speech. Karen takes his hand, her eyes understanding. "You're fine." Plankton's hand shakes in hers, his eye half-closed. "No, no, I wanna... play." He giggles again, his body lurching forward. Karen sighs. "I wanna go on an adventure," he slurs, his body listing to one side. Karen tightens her grip on his hand, keeping him grounded. "We can go on an adventure later, babe," she promises. "For now, let's just get some sleep. It's bedtime for all of us!" Plankton's giggles turn into a snore, his body going limp. Karen gently guides him to lie down, his breathing evening out. She covers him with the blanket, his antennae twitching slightly.

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) pt. 4 "Plankton, please," Karen pleaded, reaching out to touch his arm. "Let's ta—" But Plankton's eye starts to glaze over, his body trembling on his bed. Karen knew another seizure's coming on now. "Dad?" Chip's voice was filled with fear and confusion. "I'm here," Karen assured. She rushed to his side. "It's okay," she murmured, her voice a gentle whisper. "You're safe, Plankton." She knew this was part of the process, that his mind was trying to recalibrate, yet it never got easier to watch. The room grew dimmer as Plankton's seizure took hold, his body stiffening, his eye rolling back. Karen's eyes filled with tears as she watched his silent struggle. "It's okay, baby," she whispered. Chip stood there, his hands balled into fists at his sides, feeling helpless. He had never seen his dad so vulnerable before. The man he knew was always in control, always the smartest in the room, was now at the mercy of his own brain's whims. It was something that his parents had dealt with for years, something that he had only just become a witness to. Karen's eyes remained on Plankton's contorted face as the seizure's grip began to loosen, his body twitching slightly. As the seizure subsided, he's falling into a semiconscious postictal state. "Dad?" Chip's voice's filled with fear. Karen nodded, her gaze still fixed on her husband. "It's okay." Plankton's antennae twitched erratically, his body moving in jerky motions. It looked like his mind was trying to regain control of his physical form. He began to crawl on the bed. His eye's unfocused. "Hummus," Plankton babbled. Karen's heart ached as she watched his regression. Plankton's autism had always been a part of their lives, but these moments, where he slipped into his own world, were the hardest to bear. She knew he was in there, somewhere, fighting to come back. Plankton's eye darted around the room without really seeing. "Tos, sub." Karen's heart broke a little more as she witnessed her husband's descent into the child-like state that often followed his seizures. She knew it was temporary, yet the sight of this strong man reduced to such vulnerability was always jarring. "Dad," Chip said tentatively, his voice quivering with fear and confusion. He had never seen his dad like this before—so lost, so dependent. Karen's eyes remained glued to Plankton's face, silently willing him to come back to them. "It's ok, sweetheart," she murmured. Plankton's movements were like those of a baby discovering the world anew, his hands playing with the blankets as if they were a toy. "Hamv," he murmured. Karen's heart ached, but she knew from experience that this was a phase that would pass. She talked to him softly, her voice soothing and familiar, like a lullaby. "You're safe, Plankton," she whispered. She got a plush stuffed bear handing it to Chip. "Try to get him to interact by this," she suggests. Chip took the bear tentatively, his hands shaking slightly. He approached the bed, his dad's eyes still unfocused. "Dad?" he whispered, shaking the toy slightly. Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye flitting towards the bear. "Look, it's a toy," Chip said, his voice quivering. "Do you like it?" Plankton's hand reached out, his movements sluggish as if swatting the bear, his fingers exploring its soft fur. "Tibble," he murmured. Karen watched, her heart swelling with hope. This was the first step back to reality. "Good job," she said to both of them. "Keep it up, Chip. Keep talking, with the bear." Chip nodded, his voice steadier now. "It's a bear, Dad," he said, his tone gentle. "See? It's got a cute little nose. Do you want to hold it?" Plankton's antennae twitched again, and his hand reached out slowly, his fingers wrapping around the plush toy. "Sav," he says, his voice a little stronger. Karen's eyes lit up with hope. "That's it, sweetheart," she said, encouraging Chip. "Keep going." Chip held the bear closer to Plankton's face. "Look, Dad," he whispered, his voice steady despite the fear still lingering in his heart. "It's smiling at you. It's happy to see you. It wants you to be happy too. Do you want to play?" Plankton's antennae quivered, his eye focusing on the toy for a moment. He reached out again, his hand shaking slightly, and touched the bear's snout. "Ivh," he murmured, a ghost of a smile playing across his lips, resulting in drool. Encouraged, Chip continued. "It's smiling because it loves you, Dad," he said, his voice cracking. "See, it's happy because you're holding it. Can you make it dance?" "Da-dance," he managed to say, his smile broadening. Karen watched, her eyes brimming with tears of hope. "That's it," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Keep going." Chip nodded, his fingers gently moving the bear's arms and legs in a makeshift dance. "Look, Dad, the bear is dancing just for you," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. Plankton's eye followed the toy's movements. Plankton's hand twitched, his antennae perking up slightly. "Dibble," he murmured, a spark of understanding in his eye. He reached out to mimic Chip's movements, his hand shaking as he tried to make the bear dance too. Chip's heart swelled with pride and love for his dad. He had never seen this vulnerable side of him before, but in this moment, he knew his father was still there, fighting to reconnect.