My Autistic Dad Emojis & Text

Copy & Paste My Autistic Dad Emojis & Symbols

𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 4 by NeuroFabulous They found Chip sitting on the floor of his room. Karen knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around his small frame. "It's ok Chip," she whispered. "Dad didn't mean to scare you." Plankton sat on the edge of the bed, his body still shaky from his meltdown. He watched his wife and son with a mix of love and despair. He didn't know how to bridge the gap that had suddenly appeared between them. Karen sat beside him, her hand on his arm, her gaze filled with understanding. "We need to talk to Chip," she said gently. "He's scared, Plankton. He just needs to know what's go—" But Plankton was already spiraling, his chest tightening as the fear of the unknown consumed him. His eye was wide, his breaths quick and shallow. He clutched at his chest, his heart racing. "I can't." The room spun around him, his stims turning into a full-blown panic attack. Karen's eyes searched his, seeing the fear and desperation. She knew this was a moment they couldn't ignore. "Plankton, you can do this," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "We're going to te-" But Plankton's panic was too intense. His body began to shake, his breaths coming in quick, sharp gasps. He couldn't control his stims. "I CAN'T!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the room. His antennae twitched erratically, his body contorting in an effort to escape the overwhelming anxiety. Chip's eyes grew wider at his father's distress. He didn't know what to do, but he knew he wanted to help. He scoots closer, reaching for Plankton's hand. "Dad?" he whispered. The touch was like electricity to Plankton. He jolted, his panic escalating, his body thrashing uncontrollably. Karen held Chip back, knowing that Plankton's flailing limbs could accidentally harm him. "Daddy," Chip called out, his voice trembling. Karen saw the fear in Chip's eyes. "Chip," she said, her voice steady despite the chaos around them, "Dad's having a bad seizure. He gets them sometimes because his brain is working extra hard. We need to stay calm, let him have his space." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving Plankton's convulsing form. He didn't understand why his dad's brain would do this to him, but he knew he had to be brave. The room was silent except for the harsh sound of Plankton's labored breaths. Karen's heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. This was a side of Plankton she had shielded Chip from for so long. But now, there was no hiding it. She knew that the conversation they had been avoiding was now inevitable. The seizure raged on, Plankton's body jerking and twitching with an intensity that made Karen's own body ache in empathy. She watched his face, contorted in pain, and wished she could take it away, wished she could explain to their son what was happening. But Chip's innocence shattered by the scene before him. His tears fell silently, mixing with the fear in his eyes as he stared at his dad. Plankton's body jerked wildly, his stims a silent scream for help. The room was a blur of movement and noise, his sounds filling the air like a cacophony of distress. Karen held Chip tightly, his small body trembling against hers. "It's ok, Dad's brain just needs a moment to calm down," she murmured. Plankton's seizure eventually subsided. Karen remained by his side, her eyes never leaving his face as she whispered soothing words. "You're ok," she murmured. "You're safe." Plankton's eye flitted open, unfocused and glassy. The room was quiet, the only sound being his own labored breaths. He looked around Chip's bedroom. "Wha-wha-wha?" he stuttered, his voice still thick with his postictal state. Karen and Chip stared at him, their faces filled with a mix of fear and relief. Plankton's mind was still racing, trying to catch up with reality. "Wha-wha-wha?" he repeated, his mouth forming words that didn't make sense. Karen took his hand, her eyes filled with love and patience. "You had a seizure, Plankton," she said softly. "But you're coming out of it now." Plankton's gaze drifted around the room, his brain trying to piece together the fragments of what had happened. Plankton's tremors had evolved into a loop of silly sounds and gestures. He giggled, his eye crossing slightly as he waved his arms in the air. "Hi, buddy," he said, his voice slurred and childlike. Chip stared at him, not knowing how to react. "You're okay, Dad?" Chip ventured, his voice shaky. Plankton looked at him, his face a mask of confusion and child-like innocence. He giggled again. Chip watched his dad, his heart pounding. The silly sounds and movements were so unlike him. It was like watching a stranger in his dad's body. "What's going on?" Chip asked, his voice trembling. "Is he okay?" Karen nodded, her eyes filled with both love and sadness. "It's called postictal delirium," she said softly. "It can happen after a seizure. His brain is just trying to reboot." Plankton looked at them both, his movements becoming more erratic. "I'm a... I'm a... root?" Karen couldn't help but smile through her tears. "No, honey, you're not a root," she said, her voice gentle. "You're just a bit mixed up right now." Chip watched his dad, his mind racing. He had never seen him act so... so weird. "But Dad," he stammered, "you're not a root.." Plankton chuckles, his eye glazed over. Karen's smile grew sadder. "It's okay," she reassured Chip, her voice steady. "This is just a phase, it will pass. His brain is just trying to get back to his normal." Plankton's legs pushed his body to his side as drool formed at the corner of his mouth. Chip looked to his mom for guidance, his eyes pleading for explanation. Karen's heart ached watching her husband's mind struggle to find his footing. She knew this was a normal part of his recovery, but it was hard not to feel a pang of sadness at his vulnerability. "It's okay, sweetie," she said, her voice calm and steady. "See, his brain is still trying to wake up," she explained, her voice calm and soothing. "It's like he's in a dream, and we just have to wait for him to come back to us." Chip studied his father's face, his mind racing to understand. "But why is he acting like that?" he asked, his voice filled with worry. "It's part of his recovery," Karen said, wiping a tear from her eye. "Sometimes after a big seizure, his brain needs a bit of time to get itself sorted out. He might say or do things that don't make sense. It's like his brain is playing catch-up." Plankton rolled onto his stomach, trying to crawl around on the bed. Chip watched, his heart racing. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Karen couldn't help but chuckle through her own tears. It was a sight to see his normally stoic demeanor so playfully distorted. "Wormy wormy," Chip repeated tentatively, a tiny smile playing on his lips despite the fear that still lingered. Plankton crawled to Chip, drooling still, his eye still glazed over. Karen watched the interaction with a bittersweet smile, heart torn between laughing at Plankton's silliness and crying for the reality behind it. "That's right, buddy," she said, her voice soft. Chip laughed too, though the fear in his eyes hadn't fully dissipated. His dad's normally stern face was a picture of joyful confusion, his movements those of a playful puppy. "Daddy, what's so funny?" Chip asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. Plankton giggled, his limbs flailing. "Tickle monster," he exclaimed, his voice high-pitched and slurred. He reached out and poked Chip in the hand, his movements uncoordinated but playful. Chip stifled a laugh, his fear slowly giving way to amusement. "Dad," he said, his voice gentle, "you're not a tickle monster." But Plankton's reaching for Chip again. "Tickle monster, tickle monster," he repeated, his voice growing more insistent. Chip felt a strange mix of emotions bubbling up inside him. He was still scared, but there was something endearing about his dad's newfound silliness. Chip giggled. "Dad, stop," he protested, but his laughter betrayed his enjoyment. Karen herself watched from the edge of the bed, her own smile growing. She knew whenever Plankton fully came back to himself, he'd be completely humiliated to find himself like this.
𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 6 by NeuroFabulous Plankton's sobs grew softer, his body slowly relaxing into hers. He's exhausted from today's events, and his eye had fluttered shut. Karen stroked his back, her mind racing. They needed to explain to Chip about autism, and they needed to do it now. It was time to break the silence and start a conversation that was long overdue. "Chip," she called out, her voice gentle, "can you come back here, sweetie?" Chip came, his eyes red from crying. He slowly approached, his heart racing. "Dad?" Plankton's eye then flitted open, and he looked at his wife, then his son. He felt so tired, his mind a jumbled mess. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, his eye half-lidded with fatigue. "Don't be sorry," Karen said. "Come sit," she beckoned to Chip, who approached slowly. He climbed onto the bed, his eyes never leaving his dad's face. Plankton's eye was half-closed, his body heavy with sleep. Karen knew the emotional outburst had exhausted him. "What's autism, Mom?" Chip's voice was filled with curiosity. "It's a part of your dad's brain," Karen began, carefully choosing her words. "It's something he was born with." Chip looked at her, his eyes still wide with question. "But what does it do?" Karen took a deep breath, stroking Plankton's back. "Well," she said, "it makes him see the world a little differently. Sometimes, his brain gets really busy, like when there's a lot of noise or when things are too bright. It can be hard for him to handle. And sometimes, when he's had a big seizure, he gets like this," she gestured to his sleepy form in her arms. Chip studied his father's face, his curiosity piqued. "Does that mean he's sick?" Karen looked at her son, her heart heavy with the weight of the truth. "No, Chip," she said, her voice soothing. "It's like having a different kind of brain that sometimes needs extra care and understanding. Dad's autism is like his brain's special way of working," Karen explained, her voice calm and even. "It's like a computer sometimes runs really fast or really slow, and we just need to know how to help him when it's too much." Chip nodded. He thought about his own video games, how his console sometimes glitched or lagged. He couldn't imagine his dad feeling like that. "But what about his stims?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. Karen took a deep breath, her heart racing as she tried to explain. "His stims are like little things he does to help his brain feel better. It's kind of like when you pace. But he doesn't like for us to call attention to them," Karen said gently, trying to find the right words to explain. Chip nodded. "But why did he get so mad?" "Because," Karen said, her voice soft, "his brain was overwhelmed. Sometimes autistic people can get upset when they don't feel understood. And when you used that bad word, it just reminded him of all the times people have said things without knowing what it means to be autistic." Chip's eyes grew wide with realization. "But I didn't know it was bad," he said, his voice tiny as tears threatened to spill over. And Plankton's body tensed at the mention of the word. "Well," Plankton began, his voice thick with sarcasm, "now you know." His tone was sharp, his anger palpable. "So, now that you've seen the freak show, you can tell all your friends!" Chip's eyes filled with hurt at his father's harsh words. "Dad, I didn't mean to up-" "Oh, you didn't mean to?" Plankton interrupts. "Aw, are you gonna give me the 'I'm just a kid' excuse?" His tone was laced with anger and sarcasm. "Well, here's a newsflash, kiddo: words have consequences. So maybe you can tell all your little pals about how 'fun' it is to have a dad who turns into a blubbering mess at the drop of a hat! Is that right, little man?" Karen's grip on Plankton's arm tightened. "Plankton," she said, her voice firm but filled with love. "That's en-" But Plankton's anger would not be contained. "What, Karen?" he snapped, his eye glaring at Chip. "You think I don't know what he's going to do? That he's not going to tell his friends?" Chip's lip quivered, his heart racing with fear and guilt. He didn't understand why his dad was so upset. "I-I won't," he promised, his voice shaking. "I didn't know. And I'm sor—" But Plankton's sarcasm continued, his voice sharp as a knife. "Oh, you're sorry," he spat. "That fixes everything, doesn't it? Ohhhhhhhh look, Chip's such a good boy, he said sorry!" He mocked, his antennae waving erratically. Chip felt a knot form in his stomach, his cheeks burning with shame. He didn't know what to say. He hadn't meant to upset his dad. "Plankton," Karen's voice was firm, "that is enough. You're scaring him." Chip's eyes filled with tears, his voice trembling. "I just want to know why you're acting so mad," he choked out. Plankton's antennae drooped, the anger in his voice giving way to frustration. "I just want to be by myself," he said, his voice low. Chip looks at his mother, his eyes pleading. Karen nodded, her heart breaking for both of them. "Okay," she said gently. "We'll leave you alone for now. But remember, we love you." She kissed his forehead. Chip climbed off the bed. "I'm sorry, Dad," he whispered before exiting the room, his tiny legs carrying him as fast as they could to his own room. Karen watched him go, her heart aching. She turned to Plankton, who was now lying on his side. "Why do you have to be so hard on him?" she asked, her voice filled with frustration and love. "He didn't know what he was sa-" "I know," Plankton cut her off, his voice tired. "I know he didn't know. But it doesn't change the fact that it's hurting me.." Karen sat next to him, silent for a moment. She knew his anger was a defense mechanism, a way to protect himself from the fear and pain of being misunderstood. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her hand on his arm. "But you're right, what he said was hurtful. That's why I wanted us to explain." Plankton sighed, his body slowly deflating. "I know you're trying to help," he said, his voice tired. Karen leaned in, her eyes filled with compassion. "And we're here for you," she said firmly. "We're a team. You don't have to..." But Plankton's eye closed. "I know," he murmured. "But sometimes...it's just so hard. I'm tired.." Karen nodded, her hand still on his arm. "I know, sweetie," she said, her voice gentle. "But Chip loves you. He just needs to understand. And we ca--" But her words were interrupted by Plankton's snores. Karen sighs, stroking his arm. She knew these conversations weren't over, but for now, he needed rest. She leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. "I'll take care of him," she whispered. With a heavy heart, she got up from the bed and closed the door behind them. She found Chip in his own room, sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyes fixed on the floor.
𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 3 by NeuroFabulous Plankton's stims grew more pronounced, his mouth moving rapidly, producing a series of sounds that didn't form words. "Kkr-kr-kr-kr," he murmured, his eye squeezed shut tightly. Chip felt his own heart race, but he also felt a strange sort of fascination with his dad's behavior. Karen knew that Plankton was trying to regain control over his senses. This verbal stimming was a way for his brain to reset, to find comfort in the repetition and rhythm of the sounds. But Chip didn't know what was happening. He watched his dad with a mix of fear and curiosity. The "kr-kr-kr" sounds grew louder, more erratic. Karen knew this was the moment they had been dreading, the moment when they would have to explain everything to Chip. But she also knew that Plankton's fear was real, his need for control overwhelming. So she waited, her eyes never leaving her husband's face. Chip stared at his dad, unsure of what to do. The sounds were both fascinating and scary, his young mind trying to process the scene before him. He had always known his dad was different, but he had never seen him like this. Plankton's stimming grew louder, his mouth moving faster. "Tss-tss-tss-tsss," he repeated. "Shc-shc-shcss," his tongue dancing around his mouth. Karen recognized the patterns, the sounds he made when he was overstimulated and trying to ground himself. Her eyes filled with love and understanding, she gently guided Chip to the bed. "Come sit with us, sweetie," she said, patting the mattress. "Let's talk about what's happening." Chip climbed onto the bed, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face as he continued his strange pattern of sounds. "Dad," Chip whispered, "are you okay?" But Plankton didn't respond, his vocalizations now increasing in volume and speed. "Ck-ck-ck-ck," he repeated. "Hx-hx-hx-hx." Chip's eyes were wide with unyielding curiosity as his dad continues to rock back and forth. Karen looked at her son, seeing the question marks in his eyes. "Your dad is okay," she assured him, keeping her voice steady. "He's just making sounds that help him feel better right now." Chip studied his dad's face, his curiosity outweighing his fear. "But why?" he asked. Karen took a deep breath, knowing this was a delicate moment. "Dad's brain works different, remember?" she explained, trying to keep her voice steady. "Sometimes, his body does things, even without his permission, to help him feel safe." But Chip was still scared. He didn't understand why his dad was so upset. He had only wanted to help. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he watched his dad rock back and forth, making those strange noises. Karen reached over, taking Plankton's hand, her voice soothing. "It's okay," she whispered. "You don't have to hide anymore." Plankton flinched at her touch, his stims becoming more erratic. "Chip, your dad just needs a little more time," she explained. "He's not mad at yo--" "YES, I AM MAD!" Plankton interrupted, his voice sharp. "Why does Chip think he can just barge in and see me like this?! You're not supposed to be in here!" The room was thick with tension as Chip's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry," he stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to scare y—" "You didn't scare me," Plankton snapped, his anger sharp. "But you just had to go poking around, didn't you!" Karen felt a squeeze of fear in her heart, but she knew this was not the time to interfere. "Plankton," she said calmly, "Chip was just worried about you." Plankton's anger didn't abate. "I don't need his pity!" he shouted, his stims turning into a full-blown meltdown. His body is now no longer his own. Chip shrank back, his innocence shattered by his father's rage. He had never seen Plankton like this before, had never felt so unwanted or so afraid. "I just wanted to help," he whispered, his voice barely audible. But Plankton was beyond reason. His autism is now taking over, turning violent as Chip approached with an outstretched hand. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" Plankton bellowed, pushing Chip away with surprising strength. The small boy stumbled back, his eyes wide. Karen's eyes filled with concern as she watched her son's face crumble. "Chip, sweetie, go to your room," she said gently, trying to shield him from Plankton's fury. But Chip couldn't move, his legs frozen to the spot. Karen knew she had to intervene before things got worse. She moved quickly, placing herself between Plankton and Chip. "Chip, go to your room," she ordered gently, her voice firm but not harsh. "We'll talk about this later, okay?" Chip nodded, his eyes still on his father's distressed form. He turned and left the room, his small feet dragging against the floor as he walked away. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Karen alone with her husband's meltdown. Karen's heart broke for him, but she knew she had to get through to him. "Plankton," she said, her voice firm but kind, "Chip loves you. He was just sc-" But Plankton's meltdown was in full swing. He was beyond the point of reason, his voice a mix of stims and rage. "I DON'T WANT HIS PITY!" he screamed, his fists clenching the bed sheets. His stims were no longer calming; they were a manifestation of his distress. Karen felt a knot in her stomach as she watched her husband's breakdown. Her heart was torn between soothing him and protecting Chip. But she knew that Plankton's anger wasn't just directed at their son. It was at the world, at his condition, at the fear of being discovered. "Plankton," she said firmly, "look at me." She waited until his eye met hers. "Your autism is a part of who you are, and it doesn't make you any less of a person." Her words seemed to pierce his rage. He took a shaky breath, his body gradually stilling. "I just... I don't want him to see this," he murmured. The anger left his voice, leaving behind a raw vulnerability. Karen reached out gently touching his arm. "Chip isn't scared of you," she assured. "He's scared for you. And we need to talk to him about what's going on." Plankton's eye searched hers, filled with a mix of doubt and fear. "What i-if h-he’s ashamed of me?" his voice was barely above a whisper. Karen's eyes softened, her touch gentle. "Chip could never be ashamed," she said firmly. "He loves you just the way you are. Now, let's go talk to him."
𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 1 by NeuroFabulous Karen and her husband Plankton adopted Chip as a newвorn. Chip is a good kid, but he doesn't know that his mom and dad kept a secret, which is Plankton's autism. Plankton was only comfortable with Karen knowing of it. She knew all his different tics, his stims, nonepileptic seizures; but Plankton's unsure of sharing it with his son. His pride made him not want others to ever find out! But one day, that all changed, for Chip found out the hard way. He stumbled upon his dad having an absence seizure, not knowing what it meant, what was happening. Karen was out front gardening when Chip went into his parents bedroom to the sight of Plankton on his bed. He sat rigidly stiff, his unblinking eye unseeing. "Dad?" Chip called out, his voice trembling with fear. He had never seen his father like this before. Plankton didn't respond, lost in his moment of absence. Cautiously, Chip approached the bed. With trembling fingers, he gently squeezed his dad's shoulder. "Dad?" he repeated. No reply. Panic began to set in, his heart racing. "Dad, wake up!" Chip shouted, his voice cracking with worry. Chip tried to shake his dad gently, but Plankton remained motionless. He was scared, unsure. He doesn't know about seizures, let alone absence seizures. "Dad, please," he whispered, his voice quivering. He didn't know what to do. The room felt eerie, as if the air had become thick and stıll. Chip looked around desperately, his eyes searching for anything that might explain what was happening. He saw a picture of the family on the bedside table. The happy faces in the picture seemed to contrast sharply with the scene before him. He tried to shake his dad a little more forcefully this time. "Wake up, Dad!" he yelled, his voice echoing in the quiet room. The fear was now turning into desperation. Tears began to well up in his eyes as he sat on the bed beside his dad. He took Plankton's hand in his own. "Dad," he whimpered. Nothing. He decided to try talking to him, maybe it would help bring him back. "Dad, it's me, Chip. Remember when we went to the beach last summer and you taught me to build sandcastles?" His voice was shaky, but he continued, "You said I was the best sand sculptor you've ever seen. Remember the seagulls that kept stealing our snacks?" Yet Plankton remained motionless. The silence grew heavier, pressing down on Chip like a weıght he couldn't lift. He swallowed hard, his mind racing. "Dad, please come back," he begged, shaking his father's arm. He didn't know to wait it out, ending up sending Plankton deeper into his overload, his eye even more vacant. Chip's thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and fear. "What if he's hurt?" He whispered to himself. He knew he had to tell his mom. But what could she do? Would she be mad if he did something wrong? Besides he didn't want to leave his dad alone. "Dad, I love you so much," he said, tears spilling over. He decided to sing. "The wheels on the bus go round and round," he began, it being the first song that popped into mind. He hoped that would somehow break the silence that had overtaken his dad. He sang softly, his voice wavering as the lyrics filled the room. His small hand tightly gripped his dad's, willing him to return to reality. Nothing. So he stopped singing. With a tremble in his voıce, Chip decided to try again to make a connection. "Dad," he began, "do you remember when you took me to the arcade and I beat you at Whack-A-Mole?" He paused, hoping for a reaction, a twitch of antennae, anything. "I don't want you to go any where, Dad. I need you here." Just as he finished speaking, he heard the front door opening. His mom must've finished gardening! He didn't want her to find them like this, but he knew he needed her help. He didn't know how else to get his dad to wake. "Mom!" Chip yelled, his voice strained and desperate. "Come quick!" The sound of her footsteps grew closer, the tension in the house palpable. He felt his throat tighten, his eyes blurring with tears. Karen rushed into the room. Her eyes scanned the scene, quickly assessing the situation. Seeing Plankton on the bed, she knew instantly what was going on. She had seen it before, too many times to count. Her heart ached for Chip's innocent confusion. "It's okay, sweetie," she said, trying to calm Chip's nerves as she sat beside him. "Your dad's just having a moment. It's like a little nap, but for his brain." She took his hand, squeezing it gently. "You don't have to be scared. He'll be back in a bit." Karen had prepared herself for this day, knowing it could come eventually. She had learned early on what Plankton needed during his episodes. Now it was time to explain it to their son. She took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving Plankton's vacant one. "Chip," she began, her voice soothing, "you know how sometimes you get really into your toys and don't hear me when I call?" He nodded. "It's like that for Dad right now, but with his brain. He can't really hear or see us. We just have to wait for him to come back." She stroked Plankton's arm. This was something she had experienced countless times, but seeing her son's fear was a new kind of pain. "Remember, Chip," she whispered, "his brain is just taking a little break. It's like he's in a bubble right now. We have to wait until he pops out." Karen knew that Plankton needed quiet and space during his seizures. She gently took over, moving Chip aside to give Plankton the room his overstimulated mind required. She sat down next to her husband, placing a calming hand on his back. Her touch was gentle, familiar. The seconds ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity. Karen's heart was beating fast, but her voice remained calm and soothing. "It's okay, Plankton," she murmured. "You're safe here. It's just us." Chip watched his mom, his eyes wide with questions. He had never seen his dad like this before, and it scared him. But the way Karen spoke to Plankton, with such patience and understanding, was comforting.
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𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 5 by NeuroFabulous Finally Plankton's eye focused slightly, and he looked from Chip to Karen. He tried to sit up, but his body was still weak. "What happened?" he asked, his voice confused as he wiped the drool from his mouth. Karen took a deep breath, her heart swelling with love for her husband. "You had a seizure, sweetie," she said, her voice gentle. "But you're okay now." Plankton's antennae twitched, his mind racing as he tried to understand. He looked from Karen to Chip, his son's face still wet with tears. "Chip...I'm...I'm sorry," he stuttered, his body still trembling. Chip smiled tentatively, his eyes never leaving his dad's face. "It's okay, Dad," he said. "I just want you to be okay." The room was silent for a moment, filled only with the sound of Plankton's labored breathing. Karen felt relief, but she knew the conversation they had put off was now unavoidable. "Plankton," she began, her voice calm and steady. "Chip saw you having a seizure. And he heard me talking about your... neurodisability." She paused, trying to find the right words. "We need to tell him more about your autism. Why don't you start telling him?" Plankton looked at his wife, his face a canvas of fear and uncertainty. But he knew she was right. He had to tell Chip. He took a deep breath. "I'm autistic; I was born this way. It's like...my brain is a different operating system," he began, his voice shaking. Chip's eyes widened in interest, his curiosity overriding his fear. "But what's that mean?" "It means," he began, "that sometimes my brain does things differently than yours. And when it gets overwhelmed, like with too much noise or too many people, I might have a reaction that looks like what, whatever you saw." Chip's curiosity grew, his fear dissipating. "So, you're like a... a... a..." He searched for the right word, his mind racing. And then it slipped out. "A ret-..." Chip whispered, his voice filled with innocence. The room went cold, Karen's heart sinking as she saw the look on Plankton's face. Without another word, Plankton abruptly got up, leaving Chip's room and slamming the door behind him. Chip looked at her, his eyes questioning. "Mom," Chip said, his voice small and scared, "Wh-" "Chip," Karen said, her voice sharp, "That's not a word you should use to describe your dad!" She was upset, hurt by the ignorance his innocent question had revealed. Chip's smile disappeared, replaced by confusion. "But I didn't do anyth—" "Chip," Karen interrupted, her voice firm. "What you just said was hurtful. His autism is no..." Karen took a deep breath, her eyes filled with a mix of anger and sadness. "You need to understand that words can hurt, especially when you don't know what you're talking about. Because that term, it's not nice, and it's not what we say to describe neurodisabled people." Chip looked down at his hands, his cheeks flushing. He hadn't meant to hurt his dad, hadn't even known what he was saying was wrong. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, his voice small. Karen took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She knew Chip was just a child, trying to make sense. "It's okay," she said finally, her voice softer. "But we have to learn to be careful with our words." She took his hand. "Let's go talk to him together." They found Plankton on his own bed, his back to them, sniffling. "Dad," Chip called out, his small voice breaking the silence. "I di-" But Plankton's body tensed, his antennae shooting up in alarm. "I don't want to talk to you," he said, angrily. "I need to be alone." Karen's heart broke for them both. She knew that this was a pivotal moment, one that could either push them apart or bring them closer. She took a step forward. "Plankton, Chip just wants to underst--" But Plankton's voice was harsh. "No." Chip took a step back, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. He hadn't meant to upset his dad. "But Dad," he began again, his voice trembling. Karen stepped in, placing a gentle hand on Chip's shoulder. "Just give him some space," she said, her voice calm but firm. "He's upset, and needs time to process." Chip nodded, his eyes still on his dad's back. He felt a mix of guilt and sorrow. He knew he'd hurt his dad. "Ok," he murmurs. Karen squeezed Chip's shoulder, her eyes never leaving Plankton's tense form. She knew he was in a world of his own, trying to soothe his overstimulated brain. She watched as he began to rub his hand against the bed's fabric, a stim of his. It was a motion she had seen a thousand times before. With a heavy heart, she knew she had to approach Plankton gently. She took a tentative step forward, her eyes locked onto his back. "Plankton," she said softly. "I know you're upset." Plankton's shoulders tightened, but he didn't turn around. Karen's hand was steady as she reached out to touch his arm. But he flinched, pulling away. She moved closer, her hand on his shoulder. "Plankton," she said softly. "Please, talk to me. We love you." He didn't respond, but his stims slowed. Karen knew his autism made it hard for him to express himself, especially when he was overwhelmed. She sat beside him, her hand on his back. "You're okay," she whispers, her voice gentle. Plankton's body stiffened, his antennae drooping. "I'm not okay," he murmured, his voice thick with self-loathing. "I am not feeling okay right now." Karen's eyes searched his face, her heart aching. "I know," she said, her voice soothing. "But you're not alone." She paused, her hand still on his back. "Chip's just trying to understand." Plankton's body was still tense, his breathing erratic. "I don't want him to see me like this," he whispered. "I don't want others to see me like this." Karen wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer. "But that's what makes you, you," she said, her voice firm but filled with love. "And we love you just the way you are." Plankton's shoulders began to shake as he finally let out a sob. He buried his face in her chest, his body trembling with the weight of his emotions. Karen held him tightly, whispering words of comfort. "You're not weak," she said firmly. "You're different, and that's ok. You're still the stubborn, brave, strong man I fell in love with." Her words were like a balm to his tortured soul.
𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 2 by NeuroFabulous Karen knew that Plankton's autism came with challenges, and one of those was dealing with sensory overload. Her hand remained steady on Plankton's back, knowing to͠uch was always either a comfort or a trigger. Plankton's breathing began to even out, and she could see the tension slowly drain from his body. Karen looked over at Chip, his eyes still filled with uncertainty. She knew it was time to explain. "Chip," she said, her voice calm and steady, "Dad has something that makes his brain work a little differently than ours. It's called autism." Chip nodded, trying to understand. "What's that, Mom? What does autism mean?" Karen took a deep breath. "It means that Dad's brain processes things in a way that's different from most people's," she explained. "Sometimes, his brain gets really tired from trying to make sense of the world, and his body has to take a little break." Chip nodded slowly, his thoughts racing. "So, like his brain needs to reboot?" "Exactly," Karen said with a gentle smıle. "And when it does, we have to be extra careful and quiet. It's like when your phone freezes up, and you give it some patience to figure things out." Then Plankton's eye blinks, now focusing. The world slowly came back to Plankton. He saw Karen beside him, her screen filled with relief and love. "Whaa-" He stuttered, his body still feeling heavy. He noticed Chip, his son, sitting on the bed, looking at him with wide eyes and tears streaking down his face. "Ch-Chip?" Plankton managed to croak. The sight of his son's presence told him that he'd been watching. Chip's eyes widened, hope filling his voice as he called out again, "Dad!" Plankton winced. Karen reached for Chip, pulling him into a side hug. "Remember, sweetie, we need to be calm and quiet for Dad. He's coming back." Plankton blinked rapidly, his senses slowly returning. He looked at his son, then at his wife, feeling a mix of emotions - fear, guilt, exposed, understanding, mortification. Suddenly, a tic took over. His face scrunched up involuntarily. Chip had never seen his dad do this before! "It's okay," Karen whispered quickly to Chip, sensing his alarm. "Sometimes, Dad's brain needs to do little things to get all the energy out. It's just a part of his autism." "Kkr-kr-kr-kr," Plankton stims. Chip leaned in, his eyes still full of unshed tears. "You okay, Da-" "I'm fi-fi-fine," Plankton interrupted, his voice still stuttering. Karen turns to their son. "Chip, sometimes Dad's brain needs to make little noises or movements to get all the extra energy out." He had managed to keep this part of himself hidden from his son for so long, and now, here he was, exposed and vulnerable in front of him. Chip studied his dad's tics closely. Plankton's eye was blinking rapidly, and his tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth, creating a staccato. Chip leaned closer, trying to mimic the sound with his own mouth. "You sound like a dolphin! How do-" "Chip," Plankton interrupted, his voice tight with anger and self consciousness, "that's ENOUGH, so STOP IT." The sharpness of Plankton's tone cut through the room, silencing Chip's curiosity. He hadn't meant to upset his dad. He just wanted to make him feel better. The twitches and noises of his tics had now stopped, but the tension was palpable. "I-I'm sorry, Dad," Chip stuttered, his voice small. Tears glistened in his eyes. Karen looked at Plankton with concern. "Honey," she began gently, "we need to talk to Chip about this. He doesn't know what's happe—" "I KNOW what's happening!" Plankton snapped, cutting her off. His anger was palpable. "He doesn't need to see this!" The room fell silent except for the sound of Plankton's quick, shallow breaths. Karen swallowed hard, knowing that she had to handle this situation with care. But Plankton didn't want his son to see him like this, so out of control. "Get out!" he shouted at Chip. "I don't want you here!" His voice was raw, his emotions spilling over. Chip's eyes widened in shock, his mouth dropping open in a gasp. He had never seen his dad so angry before. His heart was racing, his own chest tight with fear. "But, Dad-" he began. "I said get̴ out!" Chip scurried away, his feet thumping on the floor as he rushed to leave. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving him in the hallway. He leaned against the wall, his breaths coming in quick, sharp gasps. Tears rolled down Chip's screen as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. His dad had never yells at him like that. He felt a pang of hurt, but also fear. What had he done wrong? He just wanted to help. Karen stepped out of the room, leaving Plankton alone with his guilt. She knelt down beside Chip, pulling him into a warm embrace. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Dad didn't mean to scare you. He's just overwhelmed." Chip sniffled, his eyes still on the closed door. "But why is he so mad?" he asked, his voice small and shaky. Karen sighed. "He's not mad at you, Chip. He's just scared and confused. Sometimes his brain gets too much information, and it's hard for him to handle it all." Chip looked up at his mom, his eyes searching hers for understanding. "But why did he tell me to leave?" Karen took a deep breath. "Chip, your dad loves you so much," she said, her voice soft and gentle. "But sometimes his autism makes him feel things really intensely. He's not mad at you, he's just upset because he didn't want you to see him like that. Sometimes, when people with autism get overwhelmed, their emotions can come out in big ways, even when they don't mean to scare us." Chip wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "But why doesn't he tell me about it?" he asked, his voice quivering. "Why does it have to be a secret?" Karen sighed heavily. "Because sometimes, people feel embarrassed or scared to talk about things that make them different." She rubbed his back soothingly. "But now that you know, we can help him feel less alone." Chip nodded, but his heart was still racing. He didn't understand why his dad couldn't just tell him. "But he was so angry," he murmured. Karen nodded, her eyes sad. "I know it's hard, but it's important we talk to him about it," she said. "We need to let him know we're here for him." They both took deep breaths, preparing themselves for the conversation ahead. They walked back into the room, where Plankton still sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. "Plankton," Karen began, her voice soft. "We need to talk to him about your autism." But Plankton was still too lost in his own head to listen. He sat there, his antennae twitching rapidly, his body swaying slightly. He was in his own world. Karen watched him, her heart aching. She knew his anger wasn't directed at Chip, but at himself, his own limitations. She also knew that this was the best time to start the conversation they had been avoiding. "Plankton," she said softly. "We need to tell Chip about what your autis–" "NO!" Plankton shouted, his stims escalating. "It's none of his business!" He shouts, looking at Chip. Chip's eyes widened at his dad's outburst. He had never seen him like this. Karen's grip on Chip's hand tightened, but she didn't move to leave. "Plankton," she said, her voice calm, but firm, "Chip found you. He's already seen i---" "I DIDN'T WANT HIM TO SEE!" Plankton's voice was sharp, his body shaking slightly. "I DON'T WANT HIM TO KNOW ANYMORE!" The words echoed in the room, each one a dull thud to Karen's heart. Plankton's stims were more pronounced now, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth in a rapid, nervous pattern. "Kkr-kr-kr," he repeated, his eye squeezed shut. Chip watched, his small chest rising and falling with quick breaths. He had never seen his dad like this, so out of control. But his fear was now mingled with curiosity. "What's happening, Mom?" he whispered. "It's okay, sweetie," Karen assured him, her voice still calm despite the tension in the room. "Dad's just trying to make sense of everything. Sometimes, people with autism do things called stims to help them cope."
𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 11 by NeuroFabulous Chip's eyes never left his dad's face as he did as his mom said. Plankton's body remained still, his breathing even. Karen smiled. "See, that's it," she whispered. "It's all about knowing when and how to touch." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, but he remained asleep. Chip watched him closely, his curiosity piqued. He wanted to understand everything about his dad's condition. "So, what types of touch does he not like?" Karen thought for a moment. "Sudden touches, like taps or pokes, can be startling for him," she explained. "And hugs can be overwhelming unless he's ready for them. It's about knowing his cues." Chip nodded, his hand still on Plankton's arm, moving in the gentle strokes his mom had taught him. He felt a strange sense of connection, like he was learning a secret language only they shared. "What are his cues, like how do you know when he needs a hug or space?" he asked. Karen leaned in closer, her voice low. "Look at his body language," she said. "If he's leaning in, it might mean he's okay with a hug. But always ask first. And if he says no, don't take it personally. It's not about you; it's about his comfort. But if he's leaning away or his antennae are moving quickly, it's best to ask if he needs some space." Chip nodded, watching his dad's antennae. They were still, a sign of peace. He felt a warmth spread through him, knowing that he was learning how to make his dad feel safe and loved. "I want to know more," he whispered. Karen's eyes searched his, and she saw the eagerness in his gaze. "Okay," she said, her voice calm. "What do you want to know?" Chip's mind raced with questions, but he took a deep breath to focus. "What causes his seizures?" he asked, his voice soft. Karen looked at him, her eyes filled with compassion. "Sensory overload," she said. "It's like his brain gets too much information at once, and it can't process it all. Sometimes it's just too much, and his body has a reaction." Chip nodded, his thumb still rubbing his dad's hand in soothing circles. "But how can I tell when he's about to have one?" Karen squeezed Chip's other hand gently. "Look for changes in his behavior," she said. "If he gets really quiet, or if his stims get more intense. And his eye glazes over. If you see any of that, just offer him a gentle touch or a quiet space to retreat to." "Can you tell me how he got his autism?" he asked Karen, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn't want to wake his dad, but he wanted to learn. Karen looked at him, her eyes filled with patience. "It was acquired at birth. When his own mother gave birth to him, his head was in a weird angle. It's nothing anyone did or could've prevented." Chip nodded, his fingers still moving in the gentle pattern on his dad's arm. "So it's not because of any-" But his question was interrupted by a soft moan from Plankton. Chip's eyes widened, his hand frozen mid-stroke. Plankton's antennas twitched, and his eye flitted open. He looked up at them. "Hi there, sleepy head" Karen said with a smile, her voice barely above a whisper. Plankton managed to wave. "Hi," he said. Chip's eyes lit up, his fear from earlier melted away by his dad's small gesture. "Hi, Dad," he whispered, his hand still on Plankton's arm. Plankton's gaze searched his son's face, his expression a mix of fatigue and love. He knew Chip was still scared, still confused. "I'm okay," he said. Chip nodded, his eyes filled with relief. He wanted to ask more questions, but he could see his dad was tired. "Okay," he said. "I'm here for you." Plankton's smile was subtle, but it was there. He reached out his hand and gave Chip's a gentle squeeze. It was his way of saying 'thank you'. Karen watched them, her heart full. "Why don't we let him rest?" she suggested, her voice low. "You can sit here and read by him." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face. He picked up a book and settled into the bed with his dad. Plankton's hand then moved in a repetitive motion against the bedspread, a gentle back-and-forth that seemed to soothe him. He started to murmur. "Soft with the fabric," he whispered in the stim. Chip watched him, his curiosity growing. He wanted to try it, but wasn't sure if it was appropriate. "Mom," he whispered. "Can I do his stim with hi-" But before he could finish his sentence, Plankton's hand stilled on the bedspread. "No Chip," he said, his voice steadier. "Do NOT." Chip's eyes widened. "But I just want to help," he protested, his voice whispered. Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye closing slightly. "It's personal," he murmured. Chip felt his cheeks heat up. "I'm sorry," he whispers. But Plankton's hand was already moving again. "Fabrics," he said, his voice still low. "The texture i---" But Chip interrupts, his hand tentatively mimicking his dad's motion. "Like this?" he asks, disrupting Plankton's stim. Plankton's hand stops, his antennas flinching back. "No," he says, his voice harsh. "It's mine." Chip withdraws his hand quickly, his eyes wide with shock and apology. "I'm sorry, Dad," he says, his voice a whisper. "I just wanted to help. But why did you whisper to yourself about the fabric? I--" "CHIP," Plankton snaps. "Didn't I tell you not to?" his voice is firm, almost angry. Chip's eyes filled with sadness. Karen quickly intervenes, "Plankton, it's okay. Chip was just trying to be su—" But Plankton's anger is difficult to quell. His body tenses, his antennae twitching erratically. "I-it's not for him," he stammers out. "MINE!" The room goes quiet, the tension palpable. Chip retreats slightly, his hand still hovering in the air where it had been touching the fabric. "I-I'm sorry, Da-" But Plankton's eye shut tight. "Chip," Karen says, her voice even. "Remember what we talked about. His stims are not for us to take over or interrupt. Just let him do his thing." Chip nods, his eyes brimming with apology. He watches as Plankton's hand starts moving again. He doesn't know what to say, his mind racing with confusion. He just wanted to be closer to his dad, to understand him better. But instead, he feels like he's made things worse.
𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 13 by NeuroFabulous They enter the bed room, where Plankton still sat on his bed. He had his box of sensory items in front of him. Karen approaches carefully, her eyes full of empathy. "Plankton," she says, sitting down next to him. "Chip's just trying to understand. He loves you and wants to help." Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye still firmly on his box. Chip leans over and sees various aids. Ear phones, squishy balls, fidget toys, stuffed plushies, even a black out curtain rod. "Dad, what are these?" he asks, his voice soft. But Plankton's not quite over his irritation. "Take a picture, it'll last longer," he mumbles, hugging the box as he turns away. Karen puts a hand on Chip's shoulder. "Those are his sensory aids," she explains, her voice calm. "They help him when he's feeling overwhelmed." Chip looks up, his eyes filled with curiosity. "Can I se-" "NO," Plankton snaps, his voice sharp. Karen's hand squeezes Chip's. "Your dad considers these as his personal space," she whispers. "But you can ask him to show you how they work." Chip nods, his eyes still on the box. He swallows his curiosity and speaks up, "Dad, can you show me whaa-" But Plankton cuts him off again. "I'll show you when, IF, I'm ready," he says, his voice still edgy. "For now, just leave me alone.." Chip's eyes water, but he nods. He understands his dad needs space, yet he's hurt that he can't just help like he wants to. Karen gives Chip a squeeze. "It's okay," she whispers. "You're learning." Chip nods, his eyes still on Plankton, who's now breathing deeply, his hands moving over the items in his sensory box. Karen watches the two of them, her heart swelling with love and understanding. Plankton's autism isn't easy, but she's dedicated to making sure they all navigate it together. She reaches out to Plankton, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We're here for you," she says, her voice soft. Plankton's antennae twitch, but he doesn't pull away. He's still upset, but Karen's presence is soothing. "I know," he murmurs, his hand still moving through his sensory box. Chip watches, his eyes filled with a mix of longing and regret. He wishes he could share his dad's world, but he knows that's not how it works. Karen's hand on Plankton's shoulder is a reminder of the bond they share, the silent understanding that comes with knowing someone so intimately. And Chip wants to be like his mom with the ability to share. Karen feels Plankton's body relax slightly under her touch. His breathing becomes less ragged. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice low, almost lost. "For what?" she asks, stroking his arm gently. "For being you," he says, his antennae drooping. "For understanding." Chip feels a pang of longing, wanting to be a part of this. Karen notices his sadness and gestures for him to come over. "You're a part of this, too, Chip," she says, her voice soothing. Chip sits on the edge of the bed, his hand hovering over Plankton's. Plankton glances up, his eye seeing the unshed tears. "Chip's NOT a part of this." Karen's voice is calm and firm. "Plankton," she says, her hand still on his shoulder. "Chip is a part of this family, and he's trying to understand you. We-" "I don't need him to understand," Plankton interrupts, his voice sharp. "I just need him to leave me alone!" Karen's gaze remains steady, her voice calm. "Plankton," she says firmly, "You know Chip loves you. He's just trying to help." Chip nods, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Yeah Dad, I---" But Plankton pulls away. "Chip's not a part of this," he says. Chip's heart drops, feeling the weight of his father's words. He tries to put his hand on his dad's shoulder again, but Plankton flinches. Plankton's hand suddenly stops moving as his antennae spike in overwhelm. He can't take it, can't take anymore. "Chip, go," he whispers, his voice tight with the effort of containing his agitation. "Please.." Chip shakes his head. "No, Dad; I'm NOT leaving you." Plankton's stims intensify, his hands now flapping. The room seems to spin around him as he tries to process the world in a way that makes sense to his overwhelmed brain. Chip's heart aches, but he wants to do something, to help in some way, but he doesn't know how. Plankton's stims become more frantic, his hands now flapping at his sides. His breathing is rapid, his body tense. Chip feels like he's intruding, but he can't bring himself to leave. Karen watches, her heart breaking for both of them. She knows Plankton's stims are his way of coping, yet seeing Chip's pain is hard. "Why don't you sit by him," she suggests. "But don't touch unless he asks." Chip nods, moving closer to his dad, his eyes following the erratic movements. Plankton's stims grow more intense. His body sways, his hands flap. His eye closes tightly, his mouth moving in silent sounds that not even he himself can understand. Chip sits by his side with concern, but he knows his dad needs him. He watches Plankton's stims closely, his heart swelling with love and worry. He can see the tension in his father's body, the way he rocks back and forth slightly, his hands moving in a pattern. Chip tries to mirror the movements, hoping to somehow share. But Plankton's reaction isn't what he expects. His eye flies open, turning to see Chip mimicking his stims, his hands moving in the same erratic pattern. Plankton's antennae flinch, his body stiffening. "STOP!" he yells, his voice raw. Chip's eyes are wide with surprise, then fill with determination. "But Dad," he says, his voice steady. "I'm just trying to be there for you." Plankton's body language doesn't soften. "You're not getting it. This isn't a game you can just play when you feel like it. These are mine. They're private." Chip's eyes fill with understanding. "I'm sorry, Dad," he says. "I didn't mean to make it seem like that." But Plankton's not ready to hear it. He turns away, now suppressing his stims with a grimace. But Chip doesn't let up. "I'm not playing games, Dad," Chip says, his voice quiet but firm. "I just am making an effort to observe and connect." But Plankton's anger doesn't diminish. "You can't connect with me by playing copycat!" he snaps, his voice filled with pain. "You don't get to—" "Dad, I'm sorry," Chip interrupts, his voice trembling. "I just want to be here for you." Plankton's antennae twitch, his body still tense. "But you're not," he whispers. "You're not like me, Chip." Chip's eyes water, his voice trembling. "But I want to be there for yo--" "NO," Plankton says, his voice firm. "You can't be." He turns away again. Chip feels the sting of his father's rejection, but his resolve to support doesn't waver. He takes a deep breath. "Dad, I know I'm not autistic, but I can learn. I can be there for you like Mom is, so just tell me—" But Plankton's voice interrupts him, "No, Chip," he says, his tone exasperated. "You can't just learn to be there for me. It's not something you can just pick up. It's something you either get or you don't. And right now, you're not getting it." His hands clutch the bedspread.
𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 7 by NeuroFabulous "Hey, Chip," Karen said, sitting beside him. "You know, your dad loves you more than anyth—" But Chip's voice was small, filled with doubt. "But he was so mad," he whimpered. Karen wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. "I know, sweetie," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "But he's just tired and overwhelmed." Chip leaned into her embrace, his eyes still fixed on the floor. "But why does he get so close to you, and not me?" Karen's heart clenched at his question. She knew how much Plankton loved their son, but autism didn't always make it easy to show it in the ways Chip understood. "Sweetie, your dad's brain just works a little differently. Sometimes when he's overwhelmed, he needs to be close to me. We've been together for a long time, and I know how what can or cannot upset him." Chip nodded, his cheek pressed against her side. "But what about me?" he asked, his voice muffled. "You're his son," Karen said, her voice filled with conviction. "You're a part of him. And he loves you so much. Eventually you'll understand each other as you learn more about his autism. Just be patient." With those words, she stood up and tucked him in his bed, planting a gentle kiss on his forehead. "We love you, Chip," she whispered before turning off the lights. "Good night.." Going back to her own bed, she could still hear Plankton's faint snores coming from their shared bedroom. Chip lay in the dark, his thoughts racing. The conversation with his mom played on repeat in his head. He hadn't meant to hurt his dad. He just wanted to know. Chip went into his parent's bedroom. He approached the bed quietly, not wanting to disturb his dad. Plankton was fast asleep, his snores now rhythmic and steady. His antenna twitched slightly, and Chip wondered if he was having a dream. "Mom, can I sleep by him?" he asked, his voice a whisper. Karen looked at her sleeping husband, her heart swelling with a mixture of love and worry. "I think that's a good idea," she said, her voice low. "Just make sure to keep your distance, okay?" Chip nodded solemnly, his eyes on his dad. He climbed into Plankton's bed, careful not to jostle him. He lay down, his tiny body next to his father's. Plankton's snores filled the room, a comforting lullaby. Chip watched him sleep, his expression a mix of fear and love. He reached out tentatively, his hand just barely touching Plankton's arm. His dad didn't stir, his breathing even. Chip studied him, his thoughts racing. Autism, stims, seizures. It was a lot to take in. He wanted to understand, desperately. But his dad's fear and anger had left a sour taste in his mouth. He felt like he was navigating a minefield of emotions and words he didn't quite grasp. He watched Plankton's chest rise and fall with his breath, his antennas twitching slightly in his sleep. He lay there, his hand still on Plankton's arm, until his own eyelids grew heavy. He didn't know how to fix things, but being close to his dad felt like a start. The next morning Chip woke up first. He heard Plankton stirring beside him. "Hey, Dad," Chip whispered, his voice filled with nerves. Plankton's eye opened, his gaze unfocused for a moment before settling on Chip. He took a deep breath, his antennas waving slightly. "Hi, Chip," he said, his voice hoarse from sleep. "How are you doing?" Chip sat up, his expression tentative. "I'm okay," he said, his voice small. "Are you okay?" Plankton nodded. "I'm fine," he said. He turned to look at Chip, his eye searching for any sign of anger or fear. But all he saw was his son's sincere concern. He took a deep breath. "What you saw yesterday, my stims, my meltdowns, my seizures, they're all part of my autism. It's like my brain has its own special rules, and sometimes it gets overwhelmed." Chip nodded, his hand still on Plankton's arm. "I didn't know," he said, his voice filled with remorse. "I just didn't know what to do." Plankton's expression softened. "But now that you know, we can talk about it." Chip looked at his father, his curiosity outweighing his fear. "What do your seizures feel like?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton paused, his face contorted in a frown as he searched for the right words. "It's like being in a bubble," he finally said. "Everything is muffled and distant. It's like my brain has shut down for a bit. But I can still feel pain." Chip nodded, trying to imagine what that may feel like. "And the tics?" he asked. Plankton took a deep breath. "The tics are like tiny explosions in my brain," he explained, his voice calm. "They're little movements or sounds that I can't always control. It's like my brain's way of letting out some steam." Chip nods. "But why do you get mad when I ask about it?" he questioned, his eyes searching his father's face. Plankton's antennas twitched as he considered his son's question. "I get mad because it's hard," he admitted. "Having autism means sometimes I can't control things, and it's frustrating. Like when I stim, it's usually just some restlessness so I'll move or mumble to myself, for myself only. So unless you offer help when I'm in distress, try not to make much note of them. Same with the tics, which usually happen after a seizure. But if you're concerned, inform your mother; she knows.." Chip felt a weight lift off his chest. "Okay, I understand," he said, his voice earnest. "But what about when you're upset? Like yesterday?" Plankton's expression grew serious. "When I'm upset, it's like my brain's on overload," he said. "I can't always control how I react. And when I'm angry, it feels like my thoughts are racing so fast that I can't keep up. Sometimes, the only way I know how to express it is through sarcasm or yelling. Your mom helps by knowing when to approach me, or when to redirect my energy. But I just am reacting to something and may need space." Chip nodded, his eyes studying his father's face. "But you're not mad at me?" he asked, his voice small. Plankton sighed. "Well last night I was actually upset with you personally because of what you said. But sometimes sensory bombardment can get me frustrated. It all depends." Chip felt a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry," he said again, his voice low. "I just heard kids at school say tha-" But Plankton cut him off. "I know," he said. "And I'm still hurt by it. People have said that to me throughout school, people I didn't even like; it still upsets me, and then you said it.." Chip felt his heart sink. "But I didn't mean it like that," he protested, his voice shaking. "I just didn't know what to call it.." Plankton's expression softens slightly. "I know you didn't, Chip," he said. "And that's why we're talking now. Autism is a neurodisability. You can refer to it as a condition, or just say autistic." Chip nodded, his eyes wide with understanding. "Okay," he said, his voice steady. "But what do you want me to do when you're coming out of a seizure?" Plankton thought for a moment. "Just be there," he said finally. "You can support me at my pace. But let your mom handle me at first. She knows what to do." Chip nodded, his eyes wide with determination. "Okay," he said. "But I want to learn more. Can you tell me more about your autism?"
𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 8 by NeuroFabulous Plankton sighed, his antennas drooping slightly. He knew this conversation was important, but the effort it took to explain something so deeply personal was exhausting. "Some things that don't bother others, like noise or lights, can really make my brain go haywire. And sometimes, like yesterday, I just can't process it all and I have a seizure." Chip nodded, his hand still on his dad's arm. "And the stims?" he prompted. Plankton looked away, his eye darting around the room before focusing back on Chip. "The stims are like...it's like my brain's way of releasing energy," he said, his antennas twitching slightly. "But usually, I don't like to talk about them, because it's personal. It's just how I try dealing with things." Chip nodded, trying to absorb all this new information. "What if I see you having a seizure?" he asked, his voice filled with anxiety. Plankton's antennas twitched as he thought. "If I'm having a seizure, don't touch me," he instructed. "Just keep talking to me. Sometimes I can hear you, even if I can't respond. And make sure to tell your mom since she knows what to do to help me through it." Chip nodded, his thoughts racing. "But what about when you're upset?" he asked. Plankton took a deep breath, his antennas twitching. "When I'm upset, I might need some space," he said. "But you can always ask your mom for help. She's really good at knowing what to do." Chip nodded, his understanding growing. He leaned in closer to his dad. "I want to help," he said firmly. Plankton leaned away. "You can help by not staring at me," Plankton replied, his voice tinged with irritation. "And by not asking me to stop doing things that help me cope." Chip felt a pang of disappointment, but he understood. "Okay," he agreed. "But I want to know when it's okay to talk about it, so I can help," he said, his voice determined. Plankton looked at him, his expression unreadable. "You can talk about it when I bring it up or if I'm in need of concern," he said. "But don't force it. It's a sensitive topic." Chip nodded, his eyes studying his dad's face. "Okay," he said, his voice steady. "But I want you to know, Dad, that I love you no matter what." Plankton's antennas twitched again, and he swallowed hard. He wanted to say it back, but the words just wouldn't come. "I know you do, Chip," he managed. He knew his son was waiting for the return of his love, but Plankton's brain was stuck in a loop, unable to articulate his feelings. Chip looked at him, his eyes searching. He wanted to hear those three words so badly. Plankton felt the pressure building up in his chest. He knew Chip was waiting, expecting, but his brain was in a maelstrom of thoughts and sensations, each one fighting for his attention. "I... I... I," he stuttered, his antennae waving erratically. Chip looked at him, his eyes filled with hope and concern. "Dad?" he asked, as Karen stirs from her sleep. "Good morning," Karen says. Plankton took a deep breath, willing the words to come. "I... I..." Karen had a confused look on her face. "What's going on, Chip? Plankton?" Chip looked down at his hands, which were clutching the blanket. "I just told him I love him," he murmured. "But he's... I don't know.." Karen sat up in bed, seeing the look on her husband's face. "Plankton, sweetie," she said softly. "It's fi—" But Plankton's face contorted with effort. "I-I...I," Plankton managed to get out. Karen's gaze softened as she watched her husband and son. She knew that Plankton felt the love, but his autism made expressing it on demand difficult. "Hey," she said gently, "it's ok."
𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 9 by NeuroFabulous Plankton's eye darted between Chip and Karen, his antennae twitching. He wanted to say it, but the words felt stuck in his throat. "I," he managed, his voice strained. "I-I-I-I…" Karen reached out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Plankton," she said softly. "You don't have to say anyth—" But Plankton's stutters grew more intense. "I...I...I," he repeated, his face twisting. Chip's heart sank. He didn't know what's happening. "Dad, are you okay?" Chip asked, his voice filled with worry. Karen watched him, her heart sinking. This wasn't just a moment of some difficulty speaking; this was a full-blown seizure. "Plankton, breathe," she said, her voice calm and steady. "You don't have to force it." But Plankton's stutter only grew more intense, his body convulsing with the effort. "I...I...I-" Karen sighed. She knew stress can cause mini seizures, like this one. "Chip," she said gently. "It's okay. He's experiencing one of his seizures. Nothing alarming; we just wait it out. But sometimes it can help if you talk." Chip looked up at his mom, his eyes filled with fear and uncertainty. He didn't know what to say or do, but he didn't want to leave his dad alone. "Dad," he whispered, his voice shaking. "You don't have to say it now." Plankton's stuttering continued, his antennae twitching rapidly. "I-I-I-I-I-I-I," his voice grew louder, each syllable a desperate cry for release. Karen's hand tightened on his shoulder. "You're okay," she said soothingly. "Just br-" But Plankton's stuttering grew louder, his body tensing. "I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I," he repeated. Chip watched in horror as his dad's seizure grew worse. His mind raced, trying to remember what his mom said to do. He took a deep breath, his hands shaking. "Dad," he called out, his voice small and scared. "I'm here. You don't have to say it. I know you love me." The stuttering grew more intense, Plankton's eye closed tightly as he tried to fight through the seizure. "I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I," his voice echoed through the room. Karen's voice remained calm, her hand firmly on Plankton's shoulder. "Just breathe, honey," she coaxed. "Breathe and let it pass." But the words didn't seem to reach him, lost in his own loop of panic. "I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I," his voice grew more desperate, each syllable a battle. Karen's eyes filled with tears as she watched both husband and son. She knew Plankton was trying to express his love, but his brain was trapped in a cycle it couldn't break. "It's okay," she whispered. "Just breathe." Chip's voice grew desperate. "Dad, please," he begged, his eyes brimming with tears. Plankton's body shuddered, the stutters growing more intense. "I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I," his voice a tortured plea. Karen's heart broke seeing her husband in such distress. "Plankton, sweetie, just breathe," she said, her voice soothing. "We're here. We love you." Chip watched, his own throat tight with unshed tears. "Dad," he said, his voice shaking. "You don't have to say i---" But Plankton's stuttering interrupted him, growing more intense with each syllable. "I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I," his voice was a crescendo of pain and frustration. Karen's eyes never left his, her voice a gentle reminder. "Just breathe, Plankton," she cooed. "Let it pass." But Plankton was in his own world, his thoughts racing faster than he could speak. His body jerked with each failed attempt. "I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I," his voice was strained, desperate. Karen's eyes searched for any sign that he was hearing them, that he knew they were there. But his gaze remained fixed on nothingness. Chip watched his dad, his small hand hovering over Plankton's arm, unsure if his touch would help or make things worse. "It's okay," he said, his voice trembling. "I know you love me." Plankton's stuttering finally stopped, his body going slack. Karen's hand remained on his shoulder, her eyes never leaving his. "It's okay," she said again, her voice calm and reassuring. Chip looked up at her, his eyes wide with fear. "Is he okay?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen nodded, her expression filled with relief. "Yes, he's okay," she said, her hand still on Plankton's shoulder. "The worst has passed." Chip let out a shaky breath, his hand finally touching his dad's arm. "Dad?" he asked, his voice quiet. Plankton's eye fluttered open, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. His antennas had stopped twitching, and he looked drained. "Dad?" Chip asked again, his voice trembling. Plankton turned his gaze to his son. His expression was weary, but his eye was filled with love. He reached out a hand, gently brushing against Chip's arm. It was a way of saying 'thank you' without the words. Chip looked at him, his eyes filled with relief and love. He understood that his dad had just gone through something painful and scary, and his heart went out to his father. "It's okay," he whispered, taking his father's hand. "You're okay now." Plankton squeezed his hand weakly, his breathing still erratic. Karen reached over, her hand covering both of theirs. "It's okay," she said, her voice steady. "We're all right here."
𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 10 by NeuroFabulous Chip's eyes searched his father's, looking for the reassurance he so desperately needed. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I didn't mean to upset you." Plankton's hand squeezed back, a silent acknowledgment of his apology. "You didn't do anything wrong," Karen said, smiling. "It's just how his brain works." Chip nodded, trying to understand. "But he's okay?" he asked again, needing to hear it. "Yes, he's okay," Karen reassured him, her eyes still on Plankton. "But he might need some time to recalibrate now." Chip nodded, his grip on his dad's hand tightening. "Can I stay with you?" he asked, not wanting to leave his side. Karen looked at Chip and then at Plankton, who nodded slightly. "Of course," she said, her voice soft. Chip swallowed hard, his eyes still filled with tears. "Dad," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I love you." Plankton's antennas twitched slightly, and his hand gave a weak squeeze in response. It was the only way he could convey his love at that moment. Chip watched his dad, his heart racing. He knew his father's autism made expressing emotions difficult, but he could feel the love in that small gesture. He leaned in closer, not wanting to let go. "I love you too, Dad," he murmured. Plankton's eye searched his son's face, trying to find the words. The seizure had left him drained, but his love for Chip was clear. He took a deep breath, his antennas slowly coming to rest. "I-I l-love, lo-ove y-you," he said. The words came out haltingly, each syllable a victory. Chip's eyes lit up, and he squeezed his dad's hand back, feeling his love reciprocated. "I know, Dad," he said, his voice filled with relief. "I love you too." Plankton took another deep breath, his body starting to relax. The seizure had left him exhausted, but the warmth of his son's touch and his wife's gentle voice were calming him. Chip watched his dad, his heart racing. He could see the effort it took for Plankton to say those words, and he understood that his love was just as strong, even if it didn't come out the way he expected. He squeezed his dad's hand again. "It's okay," he whispered. "I'll stay here." Karen nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. She knew the difficulty Plankton faced daily, and seeing him have a seizure in front of Chip was hard. But she also knew this was a chance for them to grow closer, to understand each other better. "Why don't we just sit here for a bit?" she suggested, her voice gentle. Chip nodded, not letting go of Plankton's hand. He felt his dad's warmth, his love. Plankton's gaze slowly turned back to Karen. "Chip; I need Chip. I want him to stay," he managed to say. Karen nodded. "Of course! We'll just stay right here." They sat in silence, the three of them, as Plankton's breathing evened out. Chip's thumb rubbed circles on his dad's hand, trying to soothe him without words. Plankton's eye closed again. Karen watched her husband and son, her heart full of love and pride. Chip had handled the situation with more maturity than she could've hoped for. He was learning, growing, understanding his father's autism. As Plankton's breathing steadied, Karen leaned in closer. "Chip," she whispered, "your dad needs some rest now. But you can sit here with him if you want." Chip nodded, not wanting to leave his dad's side. He watched as Plankton's antennas stopped moving. "Ok," he murmured. Karen got up, her movements slow and calculated. She knew Plankton needed quiet and darkness after a seizure. She dimmed the lights and before sitting back down. Chip remained on the edge of the bed, his small hand still enveloped in his father's smaller one. He heard Plankton's breathing deepen into sleep, the quiet snores that signaled that he finally dozed off. The room was quiet, save for the soft snores that escaped Plankton's mouth. Karen and Chip sat next to him, Chip's hand still clutched tightly in his dad's. He was afraid to move, afraid to disturb the fragile peace that had settled over Plankton. Karen watched them, a warm smile playing on her lips. She knew that this was a moment of connection, a bridge being built between father and son. Chip leaned closer, studying Plankton's face, his dad's mouth slightly open as he snored. He was fascinated, and his mom knew he wanted to do more. "Mom can I ask you questions?" Chip asked, his voice barely a whisper. Plankton's antennas twitched slightly, but he didn't wake up. "Sure," Karen said, smiling gently. "But keep your voice low. He needs his rest." Chip nodded and leaned in closer to his mom. "What are his stims?" he asked, his eyes glued to his father's sleeping form. Karen's smile was soft. "His stims are self-soothing behaviors," she explained. "They're like little rituals that help him manage his sensory input. Sometimes he'll mumble or move his hands, or rock back and forth. It's a way of dealing with the world around him." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving his dad's sleeping face. "Can I try stims with him?" he asked, his voice a mere whisper. Karen looked at him, surprise flickering in her expression. "If he's okay with it," she said, her voice soft. "But remember, it's his way of coping. We have to respect that. Do not make fun of it. He's not doing it for fun; it's more a necessity." Chip nodded solemnly, his eyes still on his dad. "I won't," he promised. "But can I try it right no-" Karen's eyes widened. "No," she said firmly. "It's not about trying them out. It's about understanding why he does them. Stims are his way, not something for us to play with. He doesn't like when it's brought to attention." Chip nodded, his curiosity dimming slightly. He just wanted to be closer to his dad, to know him better. He looked back down at Plankton, his small hand still wrapped around his father's. He leaned in closer to his mom, his eyes wide with questions. "But why can't I do it?" he asked, his voice still a whisper. "I want to know what it feels li—" Karen put a gentle finger to his lips. "Chip, his stims are personal," she said, her voice soft. "They're how he calms his brain. It's like if you were to play with my favorite book; it's special to him." Chip nodded, his eyes still wide. "Ok," he said. "But why does he like your touch but not mine?" Karen took a moment to think. "It's because I know his patterns, his cues," she said. "I can tell when he needs space or when he's okay with contact. I know which touches calm him down. It's not that he doesn't like your touch, Chip; it's just that his brain is sensitive. Sometimes it's too much for him to handle." Chip nodded, his eyes still on Plankton. He wanted to make his dad happy, to make it all better. But he knew he couldn't. "Can you show me how he likes to be touched?" Karen looked at him, her expression a mix of pride and concern. "Sure, sweetie," she said, and she gently took Chip's hand and placed it near Plankton's arm. "Just stroke his arm lightly," she instructed, guiding Chip's fingers.
𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 12 by NeuroFabulous Karen notices the shift in the room and decides to change the topic. "Why don't we talk about something else?" she suggests, her voice soft. "Maybe something that makes you both happy." Chip nods, his eyes still on his dad's hand. "Okay," he says, his voice tentative. "Dad, what's your favorite stim?" Plankton's hand stops momentarily, and he looks at Chip with a flicker of irritation. "Why?" he asks, his voice tight. "What's your problem Chip?" Chip's eyes widen in surprise. "I-I just want to be closer to you," he stammers, his voice filled with confusion. Plankton's antennae twitch with agitation. "I know," he says through clenched teeth, "but you can't just take what's mine and make it into your own!" Chip's eyes fill with tears, his heart aching. "But I didn't mean to-" Plankton's voice is sharp, cutting through the air. "You didn't mean to what? It's not like I can just ask your permission on how I'm allowed to experience my own body! Better yet, as a matter of fact, why don't you teach me how I can and cannot feel! I mean, since you're so expert in all things autism. Go on, Chip. Educate me!" Chip's eyes water, his face contorted with a mix of hurt and bewilderment. "D-dad," he stammers, his voice quivering. "I just wanted to be understood. I didn't mean to—" But Plankton's sarcasm continues, each word laced with frustration. "Oh, so now you're an expert on what I can and can't do? Dr. Chip, when’d you get your degree in Autism Spectrum Disorder? And how do you want me to stim? Should I get it approved by you first? Because if I don't, oh your minor inconvenience might just turn into a major catastrophe!" Chip shrinks back, his heart racing. He had no idea his curiosity could cause so much pain. "Dad," he says, his voice shaking. "I'm sorry. I just-" But Plankton's anger has been unleashed. "You just what, Chip?" he says, his voice rising. "You just want to play autism detective? You think because you know a few things about stims that you get to dictate how I live? Oh I don't know how I got anywhere without your guidance!" His sarcasm is thick, each word a barb that hits its mark. Chip's eyes fill with tears. "Dad, I just-" But Plankton's rant continues, his voice shaking with frustration. "Just what, Chip? What is it you just do? You just want to play at being autistic? You think you can just waltz in and 'get it' because you've seen a thing or two?" His sarcasm is bitter, his words sharp. "Well you're the one who gets to decide how I should live my life; it's all yours! You obviously know so much more than I do about what's good for me. Right? I wouldn't dare hesitate to defy your orders, SIR! Do you have a hyperbaric chamber I should use? Perhaps if that doesn't work, we could try some homeopathic therapy!" Chip's eyes are brimming with tears now, his voice barely above a whisper. "Wait, a hyper homo what?" "Just FORGET IT!" Plankton yells, as Karen turns to Chip. Her eyes are filled with concern. "Why don't you go to your room, sweetie?" she suggests. Chip nods, his eyes glued to the floor. He knows he's made a mistake, and the weight of it is crushing him. He slinks out of the room, his shoulders slumped with regret. Plankton's chest heaves as he takes a deep breath. He knows he shouldn't have snapped at Chip, but the frustration had been building. Karen's eyes are on Plankton, her gaze filled with both understanding and patience. "It's okay," she says, her voice a gentle balm. "You're upset. It's okay to be upset. Do you need some space?" Plankton's antennas twitch, his eye searching hers. He nods, his voice tight. "Yes." Karen nods, her own eyes filled with emotion. "I understand," she says, her voice soft. She leans over and kisses his head, before going into Chip's bedroom. She finds Chip sitting on his bed, his shoulders slumped. "Chip," she says, her voice gentle. "Come here, please." He looks up at her, his eyes red and swollen. "I didn't mean to hurt his feelings," he whispers. Karen sits beside him, pulling him into a warm embrace. "I know, sweetie," she says, her voice soothing. "I remember once, when he was stimming, I accidentally interrupted by trying to hug him. It didn't go over well." Chip sniffs, looking up at his mom. "But why can't I do his stims with him?" he asks, his voice small. Karen holds him closer, her heart aching for her son's confusion. "Because his stims are his way of coping," she explains. "They're personal to him. It's like if someone tried to take over your favorite game without asking or understanding it. It might not feel right. You'd feel frustrated." Chip nods slightly, understanding dawning in his eyes. "So it's like if someone tried to play with my Legos without knowing how I like to build them?" "Exactly," Karen says. "It's his way of playing with his mind. And just like you have your Lego sets, he has his stims. Some autistics share them, but for your dad, they're his alone. And just like we respect your Lego creations, we have to respect his stims." Chip nods, his eyes still on the floor. "But I just want to make him feel better," he says, his voice small. Karen sighs, her expression filled with both love and concern. "I know you do, Chip," she says. "But sometimes, trying to fix things can make them worse. Your dad's autism isn't something to be fixed; it's part of who he is. And while we can help him cope, we also need to respect his boundaries." Chip nods, his cheeks still wet with tears. "Ok," he whispers. "But," Karen adds, her voice firm but kind. "You can still support him. When you see him getting overwhelmed, offer him a quiet space to retreat to. And if he needs a gentle touch, ask first. It's about being there for him in the way he needs you to be. Sometimes he'll sit in my lap as I rock with him side to side. And even then, I have to make sure I read his cues." Chip nods, his eyes bright with the desire to make it right. "Okay," he says. "I'll do better." Karen's smile is soft. "I know you will," she says. "Now, let's go talk to him."

Related Text & Emojis

As a neurodivergent person I find emojicombos.com a favourite site. I also write here to make others happy and to make stories inspired by events similar to my experiences, so I can come back to them on any device to. Also, I hope any person reading has a great day! -NeuroFabulous (my search NeuroFabulous)
"𝖮𝗁 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗍.." 𝖣𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗍? 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖨 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝖺𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 '𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅' 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗂𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗍. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗑𝖾𝖽. ( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )
hopefully my writing posts help ppl to feel understood or at least get a glimpse of all the possibilities neurodiverse ppl may experience (: (my search NeuroFabulous)
DOCTORs APPOINTMENTs Before a procedure, get to meet the physician and acknowledge their authority before you mention your sensitivities. Find a way to make a compromise. Even request more time for an appointment if you want to have topical numbing agents wait to work, to discuss alternatives, etc. Before a procedure, look up the physician and/or the clinic website. Find pictures of the inner building and search for FAQ, policies, procedures, reviews, etc. Before a procedure, bring a fully charged phone and any sensory necessities such as plastic cups for water, ice pack, self testing kits, written notes and copies, etc. TIPS For CHECKs Feel the instruments and get comfortable with them. Ex: at the dentist, you’re weary of the suction straw. If no plastic cups for rinsing, ask them for some or, have them turn the suction on a low setting and feel it with your finger before they use it in your mouth. Perhaps they can put something on if you don’t like the sucking noise. See how you feel with the specific doctor. Ex: Dr. A seems hurried and strict, but Dr. B seems more empathetic. Or perhaps ask if a nurse can be in the room with you to. Try having the doctor teach you how much you can do. Ex: for a strep throat test, ask if you can swab your own throat, even have them hold your hand whilst you do it in a mirror. Or tell them the way your throat’s structure may find it easier to tilt, etc. (my search NeuroFabulous)
𝓫𝓾𝓼 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝓼𝓵𝓲𝓹 𝓸𝓯 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝐍𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐚𝐥, 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰 & 𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓼 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐋𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝓡𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓼𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓾𝓹 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 -𝓲𝓷 𝓭𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷
Karen had always loved her husband Plankton. His mind was a bastion of order in a world that often seemed too noisy and chaotic for him. Plankton had a way of seeing patterns and connections that she never could. He'd spend hours meticulously categorizing his collections. It was his way of making sense of the world, a comforting rhythm she learned to appreciate. But today was one of those days where Plankton's brain seemed to betray him. It was a silent, unassuming morning until Plankton froze. His eye glazes over, and his body stiffened like a plank. Karen's heart skipped a beat, knowing all too well what was happening. Her mind raced as she quickly took action. She guided him to the safe spot they'd designated for these moments, a corner padded with cushions and devoid of sharp edges. His body began to convulse, a symphony of uncontrolled movements that didn't match the calmness of the surroundings. She felt her own heart race, her palms sweating, but she knew she had to be his rock, his anchor. Suddenly his friend Sponge Bob came in; he's never seen nor heard of Plankton like this before. "What's happening to him?" Sponge Bob asked, his voice quivering with concern. Karen took a deep breath. "He has autistic seizures," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "It's like his brain gets overwhelmed with stimuli, and it just... short-circuits." SpongeBob's eyes widened beyond belief, taking in the scene before him. Plankton's tiny frame jerked and tremored. It was a stark contrast to the precise, orderly Plankton he knew. "Is he okay?" Sponge Bob stammered, his hands waving in the air, unsure what to do. "Just stay calm," Karen instructed, her eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "These usually pass quickly. I need to make sure he doesn't hurt himself." She moved swiftly, carefully placing pillows under his head. Sponge Bob nodded, his concern growing as he watched his friend suffer. He wished he could do something, anything to help. "Can I talk to him?" he asked tentatively, his thumbs tucked into his pants, fidgeting. "It's better to let him be," Karen advised gently. "He can't process much during this. But once it's over, you can." When Plankton's convulsions finally ceased, his body limp, and his eye flutters closed. Karen checked his pulse, sighing in relief when she found it steady and strong. She looked up at Sponge Bob, her expression a mix of worry and fatigue. "Just be there for him when he wakes up," Karen said. "He'll be disoriented. He might not understand what happened." Sponge Bob nodded solemnly. He couldn't imagine what it must be like for Plankton, trapped in his own mind during these episodes. As Karen tended to Plankton, Sponge Bob felt a surge of curiosity. With a newfound determination, Sponge Bob turned to Karen, his eyes brimming with hope. "Could he maybe like... can he understand me now?" Karen looked at Plankton, still twitching, but clearly drained. She nodded slowly. "He can hear you. Just keep it simple and soothing." Sponge Bob approached cautiously, his eyes fixed on his friend. He knelt down and took Plankton's hand in his spongy grip. "Plankton," he whispered, "It's me, Sponge Bob. You're safe now." Plankton's eyelid fluttered, a hint of recognition flickering across his face. Karen offered Sponge Bob a small, grateful smile. She knew how much Plankton valued his friendship. Sponge Bob cleared his throat, his words gentle and measured. "Remember when we played catch with jellyfish?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're the best at catching them, Plankton. Your reflexes are so fast, it's like you're a jellyfish ninja." Karen smiles. Plankton's eye is open, but unfocused, as if looking through Sponge Bob instead of at him. His pupil is dilated, and his gaze is distant. Sponge Bob's heart swells with a mix of hope and concern. "Plankton?" he calls again, a little louder this time. No response, just the slightest twitch. He's there, but not really. Karen watches closely, a silent guardian making sure her husband doesn't slip back into the chaos that had consumed him. The room feels eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the usual symphony of sounds that filled their lives. Karen's eyes are filled with love and fear, a potent mix that's all too familiar. She's seen this before, Plankton's mind retreating into itself when the world becomes too much. Sponge Bob squeezes Plankton's hand, trying to ground him in reality, but his friend's hand is cold and limp. "You know, Plankton," he starts again, his voice quivering slightly, "you're like a tiny superhero with a giant brain. Nothing gets past you." Then, as if a switch was flipped, Plankton's body starts to jerk again, but this time, the movements aren't the violent convulsions of a seizure. They're smaller, faster - tics. His head tilts quickly. Karen's eyes narrow slightly as she recognizes the signs. This was a common aftermath of his seizures, his brain's way of recalibrating itself. "It's okay," she soothes, her voice a gentle melody that pierced through the tension. "Just ride it out." Karen's eyes never leave his, her gaze a silent promise of protection and patience. She knew these tics were a part of his autism, a way for his body to cope with the overwhelming input. It was as if the world was too loud for him, and his body had found its own rhythm to try to drown out the noise. The tics grew more frequent, his head jerking in quick, spasmodic movements. Sponge Bob's grip tightens on his hand, his own heart racing. He didn't understand what was happening, but he knew his friend needed him now more than ever. Karen's voice remained soothing, a constant in the storm of Plankton's neurological maelstrom. "It's okay," she said softly. "Let it happen." Sponge Bob watched, his eyes wide with concern. He'd never seen his friend like this before. The tics grew in intensity, Plankton's head snapping to a nod, his limbs twitching erratically. It was like watching a tiny, trapped bird, desperately trying to find its way out of a cage made of its own nervous system. "It's okay," Karen repeated, her voice a beacon of calm in the chaos. "These are just his tics. They're part of his autism. It's his brain's way of adjusting after a seizure." Sponge Bob nodded, trying to absorb the information. He'd known Plankton for years but had never known or seen him like this. Then Plankton's eye focused on Sponge Bob. A flicker of recognition sparked in the depths. "Sp...Sponge Bob?" he stuttered, his voice weak and tremulous. Sponge Bob's smile grew wider, relieved to hear his friend's voice. "Hey, buddy," he said. Plankton's head continued to twitch in a nodding motion, his eye blinking rapidly as he tried to focus on Sponge Bob's face. The tics were less intense now, but they were still present, a subtle reminder of the storm that had raged within him moments ago. Karen knew that this was the part where he'd start to come back to them. Karen explained, "The tics can last for a bit, but he'll be back to normal soon." Sponge Bob nodded, his grip on Plankton's hand steadying as he watched his friend's eye refocus. He didn't understand it, but he knew Plankton needed time. As the tics began to subside, Plankton's hand squeezed Sponge Bob's in weak acknowledgment. Sponge Bob felt a wave of relief crash over him. "I'm here," he murmured, his voice quiet and reassuring. Plankton's breathing grew more even, his body finally relaxing. The twitches gradually slowed until they were barely noticeable. It was like watching a tightly wound clockwork toy slowly unwinding. Karen reached over to stroke Plankton's arm, her touch feather-light. "You're going to be okay," she said. (my search NeuroFabulous)
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𝟏𝟐𝟑𝟒𝟓𝟔𝟕𝟖𝟗 ①②③④⑤⑥⑦⑧⑨ 123456789 𝟙𝟚𝟛𝟜𝟝𝟞𝟟𝟠𝟡 ➊➋➌➍➎➏➐➑➒ ¹²³⁴⁵⁶⁷⁸⁹ ₁₂₃₄₅₆₇₈₉ 1̶2̶3̶4̶5̶6̶7̶8̶9̶ 1̲2̲3̲4̲5̲6̲7̲8̲9̲ 1̳2̳3̳4̳5̳6̳7̳8̳9̳ 【1】【2】【3】【4】【5】【6】【7】【8】【9】 『1』『2』『3』『4』『5』『6』『7』『8』『9』
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⡞⠰⡀⠣⡘⡄⢣⠘⡄⢊⠜⣐⠣⡜⡰⢌⡔⢣⡜⡰⣩⣿⢇⢺⢯⣧⡙⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⡳⣌⠱⢌⢎⡱⢆⡘⢦⡩⠔⣉⠖⡤⢛⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡳⢮⡻⢾⣥⠷⣼⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⠱⠒⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⠣⢄⠁⡇⢌⢣⠒⡜⣤⢊⡴⢫⢶⣙⠶⣜⣣⡜⣽⣿⠟⣬⡟⣮⣿⡽⣎⠣⢄⡀⠀⢸⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡗⣌⢇⠎⡼⣼⣶⣜⣦⡕⢪⡐⣜⡰⢯⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢷⣹⢯⡕⡫⢄⠳⡌⡽⣽⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠀⢀⡠⠄⡤⠠⠽⣦⣀⣀⣤⠶⠲⠞⠋⢉⠛⢖⣠⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡈⠇⣦⣼⣤⣍⡨⠙⢚⠲⣭⠾⣹⣮⡝⣻⡜⢶⣹⢽⡞⣹⢲⡹⣞⣿⣿⣿⢶⡱⣝⢢⡞⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡜⣮⣹⣔⣣⣣⣙⡔⢪⡱⡸⣔⢯⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣆⣟⡮⢜⡱⣈⣶⣵⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠐⡀⠐⣈⡴⢫⠒⡅⡒⣉⠒⠤⣉⡏⠀⠄⠠⢈⠒⡀⢀⠂⠀⠀⠉⠛⠁⠦⠀ ⢯⡿⣻⣿⣿⣾⣿⢿⠢⡜⢄⠣⢣⢍⠻⢶⣽⣳⡿⣚⠬⡇⢧⣻⣽⣿⣿⣯⣷⢣⣝⢳⣽⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣹⢻⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⣻⡵⣞⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣍⠧⣛⠹⢡⢃⣼⡛⢼⣧⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠤⠡⣠⢟⡱⢊⡥⢓⠴⡱⢌⣱⣟⡜⠬⡁⠌⡐⡄⠢⠐⠠⢈⠄⡁⢂⠈⠄⠂⢘ ⠀⠈⠁⠛⠩⢟⡿⣯⢳⡜⢢⡑⣂⠎⣡⠇⢦⡑⣎⣶⠟⣜⣣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣞⣯⡞⣧⢿⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣯⡳⣭⢫⡝⡳⣍⢶⣻⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠲⣈⢎⡱⢊⠥⢂⣽⢿⣮⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠠⡁⡌⢂⠅⣟⢦⣙⢦⣱⢋⣖⡱⣞⣟⣤⢻⡐⡀⢂⠀⠰⡁⢄⠡⢀⠂⠄⡀⠌⢀⠂⢠ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠒⢽⣾⡱⢢⢅⡚⣤⣛⣦⣿⢿⣭⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣿⣞⣷⣻⣭⢿⡝⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣾⣷⡿⣟⢯⣻⠾⣝⡻⣿⣿⣽⡻⡛⠿⣷⣁⠆⠌⡔⠡⢊⣵⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢋⡄⢣⠐⡄⠣⢼⣏⣶⡹⣞⡼⣫⡖⣿⣣⣟⣮⠷⣅⠢⢁⡈⢀⢑⠒⠒⡈⠐⠠⠐⢈⠀⠄⢈ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢗⣭⠾⣵⣟⣻⠯⠿⠋⠻⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣻⣾⢷⣯⣿⣯⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⣿⣻⣽⢻⡝⣮⢗⡻⣌⠳⣹⣯⣧⣷⡍⠰⡐⠌⡙⢦⣤⣑⢀⣖⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢁⢣⠘⡄⢣⠌⡑⣾⣽⣲⢟⣧⣟⣳⣽⣣⣷⡫⠿⣏⠧⢎⡐⢀⠂⠨⠌⡐⠠⠑⢂⠁⠂⠌⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠫⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣳⢟⣮⡳⣝⢮⢏⠶⣉⢞⣴⣻⡿⣽⣶⡇⠰⡀⠔⣈⢿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠱⡉⢆⠱⣠⠇⢎⡱⢹⣷⣯⣟⣞⣾⡵⢞⠡⣰⠟⢼⠫⣝⡳⣟⡶⣍⣶⣧⣔⣤⣇⣌⣠⡥⠴⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠲⢟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⡽⣿⣞⣷⣭⣗⢮⣶⡿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣷⢳⣿⣥⠘⡴⣡⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡧⢓⡈⢦⠓⣜⠰⢣⡜⣿⡿⢟⠫⡍⠴⢈⡢⠞⠁⠀⠈⠾⠲⣝⣛⡻⠩⢍⡐⣆⠦⡠⠙⡍⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡿⣿⡿⣯⡿⣿⣾⣻⣝⣿⡿⣿⢞⡟⣞⡞⣿⣿⣟⡴⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢏⣼⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⢣⢃⠞⣡⢛⡴⡈⢁⢚⡵⣎⠙⢂⡥⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠪⡱⢧⡑⠎⣑⣩⠖⠓⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣟⣿⣿⢏⡷⡷⣿⣳⣟⢿⠯⣝⣳⢻⢿⣟⡹⣜⣯⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⢣⣿⠿⣿⣿⠿⣌⢏⡚⡤⢏⡲⣕⠺⣍⢃⡤⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠒⠒⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢿⣿⢯⣿⡿⣝⣝⡷⣟⢿⢯⣝⢯⢿⡏⣞⣿⡵⣻⢾⠿⣌⣓⣟⣛⣿⣿⣿⡇⢠⡐⣿⡱⢊⠶⡱⣜⢣⠳⡌⢓⣴⠛⠉⠉⢶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠿⣷⣟⣿⢾⣳⣟⢯⠯⠓⠚⠷⣟⣿⠽⢉⣭⡩⠙⠿⣵⣭⣚⣯⣷⢿⡿⠀⢂⣹⢧⡹⢍⠶⡱⣎⣃⡥⠖⠉⢸⢰⢀⠣⡀⠜⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣯⡏⠛⠉⠈⠁⠠⠐⠠⠀⠄⠀⡀⢂⠈⢉⠑⠌⢌⠻⣾⣾⣽⣿⠁⠄⢣⣼⢣⣳⣍⣾⣷⣿⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⢯⡆⠢⡑⠌⠻⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⠁⠄⠀⠁⡘⢦⣠⠄⠒⠪⢄⠐⠀⡈⢀⠂⠈⡀⠣⣽⣿⣿⠇⠈⡘⢦⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡎⠆⠀⠀⠀⠸⡦⠁⡌⢡⢃⠻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡠⠼⢜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠠⠀⠐⣠⣄⠈⡄⠀⡁⠡⢈⠂⠐⠈⠰⠀⠁⠄⠡⢹⣿⡟⠀⠱⣨⢳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠧⣀⠀⠀⠀⢱⣣⠈⡅⢢⠡⠘⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣾⡯⢠⠘⣀⠃⡜⡰⢿⢋⣵⣾⡿⣿⢂⠅⣺⣿⣿⣿⣷⣭⣷⢿⡇⡹⢌⡽⠐⠀⢎⣱⠭⢳⡾⢷⣫⢗⡙⠦⠩⠌⡁⢆⣾⣻⡿⠶⠞⡦⢱⡐⢩⢱⣿⣯⣶⡾⣷⣾⠳⣄⠣⡐⢡⢎⡙⠮⣍⡻⢯⡟⣽⠏⠀⠦⣹⡝⣆⠆⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣚⣿⣧⣦⡷⢦⡝⠤⠓⡜⢺⢻⠯⡵⠫⢌⠒⡴⣿⣿⣿⣯⣟⣾⡿⡐⡑⢎⡇⠠⠘⠒⠻⢏⠱⣈⢷⠷⠡⢊⠔⣑⣨⣼⣟⣾⣿⣶⢾⣷⢾⡣⠜⢢⢙⡋⢧⢿⡿⠟⣄⢣⢻⣶⣉⠧⣤⣁⡒⠠⠌⠍⡛⠏⡀⠜⠲⡝⣾⣿⡘⢨⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣩⣶⣾⢳⡜⠤⡁⢐⢂⠢⡑⢌⠡⢂⡝⡴⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢡⢡⣉⢲⠀⡐⢥⣛⡼⣭⠒⡴⠋⡐⡤⠶⣾⣻⢯⣷⣿⠟⢠⠣⢽⡭⠶⢃⡉⠄⢂⠜⡄⢢⠐⡁⢆⡌⣻⣇⠈⢓⣦⠱⡈⢅⠒⠠⢀⠡⡐⣌⡳⣭⢛⣿⡥⡼⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣘⠳⣿⣽⣯⠿⡁⢆⠱⡈⠄⠳⢌⠢⣁⠣⣜⢣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⡔⢢⢐⠣⣙⡍⠠⢳⠽⣲⢏⡰⣁⠆⠤⡙⢶⡻⡷⢛⣿⡌⢢⢁⠢⠀⡅⠢⠌⡐⢈⠜⣘⠡⡊⢔⠣⡌⣿⡴⠚⡡⠌⢓⡍⠤⡈⠐⡌⢲⣙⢾⡹⡜⣏⢂⠜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠤⢶⣨⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡑⢄⠢⡐⢢⠑⡌⠲⢡⡘⣰⡾⡃⢄⠳⣌⢧⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡇⡜⢰⢊⠵⡸⢼⣥⡘⠼⣳⣞⡷⣝⣾⡱⣽⡳⣿⢟⡬⣽⣷⢢⢎⡰⢡⡒⣡⠲⠷⢮⠾⡞⣡⣽⣞⠳⣼⡟⢀⠓⠤⢃⠖⣸⢣⠴⣁⢎⡵⣞⢧⠯⡕⢢⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⣙⡻⢿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣜⢦⡱⢢⠡⢌⡁⢛⠛⣩⣰⣥⣾⠷⣎⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡷⣈⠦⣉⠶⣙⡞⡼⣟⣵⣈⢛⢾⡽⣺⡽⣶⣿⣟⢮⣗⣽⣿⣷⣏⢾⡳⡽⣴⣬⣶⣥⣾⣶⢿⡱⢎⣿⡿⡐⠨⢎⡱⢊⡼⣱⢏⣷⣹⣞⣳⢭⡞⢁⠖⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡴⣛⡜⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣷⣩⢓⡌⢦⢥⣾⣿⣯⣿⡿⣏⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡞⣷⢠⡓⣬⢣⣓⢾⡱⣏⢿⡯⣿⣮⡷⢯⣷⣿⡻⣎⢿⡞⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣙⠶⢭⡛⠿⡛⡍⢮⣱⣿⡿⡱⣅⢹⢆⢳⡩⢖⡽⣚⡷⣝⢮⡳⢋⡰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⣇⠳⣜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣏⢾⡱⢯⡹⣝⣷⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢻⡦⣙⠶⣣⢟⡮⢷⣹⡞⣷⡜⣝⣻⡿⡽⣗⣻⣵⢿⣹⡾⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣝⣶⣩⣾⣿⣿⣿⠣⡝⡴⢊⢯⡲⣭⢻⣜⡳⡽⣎⢇⡵⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 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A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY v (By NeuroFabulous) Karen held Plankton tightly, his sobs shaking both of them. "It's okay," she murmured, stroking his back. "You're still my husband. You're still Chip's dad." Her voice was a salve to his soul, but the wound was deep. In Chip's room, the silence was deafening. He sat on his bed, staring at the wall, his thoughts racing. He had never meant to hurt Plankton like that. He had just wanted his dad to be like everyone else's. He didn't understand why it had to be so hard. Outside, the sound of Karen trying to comfort Plankton's sobs drifted under the door, each one a knife in Chip's heart. He had never heard his dad cry before, and it made him feel like the biggest jerk in the sea. What had he done? He didn't want Plankton to go anywhere. He just wanted all to be okay. He sat on his bed, his eyes blurring with tears as he tried to piece together what had just happened. His mind raced with thoughts of his dad, his hero, his rock, now a crumbling mess in his mother's arms. He couldn't bear to think of the pain he had caused. He stood up, his legs shaking slightly as he approached the door. Karen looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed and tired, but filled with a fierce love that never wavered. Plankton was still sobbing into her shoulder, his body trembling with the force of his pain. Chip felt like he couldn't breathe, his chest tight with regret. "I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice small and shaky. "I didn't mean it. I just..." But the words trailed off, his throat thick with unshed tears. Karen looked up at him, her eyes brimming with a mix of love and disappointment. "Chip," she said, her voice firm but gentle, "you need to understand. Your dad can't just turn his autism off." She took a deep breath, her gaze never leaving Chip's. "And we love him just the way he is." Plankton's body convulsed with each sob, his fear palpable in the tiny room. He had always known his condition set him apart, but to hear his son say such things... It was more than he could bear. Karen looked at Chip, her expression a mix of anger and sadness. "Chip, what you said was hurtful," she began, her voice shaking with emotion. "But you need to know that your dad's autism is just part of who he is." Plankton's sobs grew quieter, his body slowly calming down as he heard Karen's words. He knew she was right, but the fear remained, a cold knot in his stomach. Fear of rejection, fear of being seen as a burden, fear of losing the ones he loved most. Chip's eyes were glued to the floor, the weight of his words pressing down on him like a heavy stone. He felt like a monster, a creature that had lashed out without thought for the consequences. He took a tentative step forward. "Dad," he whispered, his voice choking with tears. "I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it." Plankton's convulsions slowly subsided, his body still tense against Karen's embrace. His eye was closed tightly, as if trying to block out the painful reality. Plankton's convulsions grew less intense, his body slowly relaxing into Karen's embrace. His breathing was ragged, his antennas quivering slightly with each exhale. The look in his eye spoke volumes, a swirl of emotions that seemed to mirror the turmoil in Chip's own heart. The room was a stark contrast to the chaotic underwater world outside, the silence interrupted only by the occasional sniffle from Plankton. Karen's gaze never left Chip's face, her expression a mix of love and disappointment. "Your father's autism is a part of him, Chip," she continued, her voice measured. "It's like his brain has its own language, and sometimes it's hard for him to translate it to ours. But that doesn't make him any less of a person, or any less of a dad." Chip felt a knot in his stomach, his regret growing with every word Karen said. He had never thought about it like that before—his dad wasn't broken or weird, just different. And he had hurt him so badly. "But I just want him to be normal," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Why ca--" "Normal?" Plankton's voice was harsher than Chip had ever heard it. He pulled away from Karen, his eye blazing with a fierce intensity. "Chip, maybe you're the one who needs to leave.." "Plankton," Karen said, her voice a plea. "This isn't helping." But Plankton's face was a mask of pain and anger. Chip's heart raced, his dad's words cutting deeper than any insult he had ever heard. "Dad," he said, his voice trembling. "I didn't mean it." But Plankton was beyond reason, his emotions a swirling maelstrom of anger and hurt. "Get out," he said, his voice cold and final. Karen's eyes widened with shock, but she knew better than to argue with him when he was like this. She stood, carefully setting Plankton aside. He didn't move, just sat there, his body rigid with pain. "Come on, Chip," she said gently, her hand on his shoulder. "Let's give your dad some space." Chip's eyes were filled with tears, his heart breaking at the sight of his father's pain. He didn't know what to do, his mind racing with fear and regret. He allowed Karen to lead him out of the room, the door clicking shut behind them, leaving Plankton alone with his thoughts.
A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY i (By NeuroFabulous) Chip and his friend Alex go to the Chum Bucket, where Chip lives with his parents Karen and Plankton. Chip had been looking forward to this moment all week. His friend Alex, the new kid in school, was finally coming over to his place. Chip's thought about the endless possibilities of what they could do together. Would they play video games? Maybe build a fort? Or, if they were lucky, his mom Karen might let them have ice cream before dinner.. The door swung open. "Welcome to the Chum Bucket," Chip said with a proud smile, leading Alex inside. Karen looked up from her book. "Hi," Alex said nervously. Karen's eyes widened. "Oh, hello!" She hadn't been expecting company. But she put down her book. "You must be Alex!" Alex nodded. "Hi, Chip's mom," they mumbled. "Just call me Karen, sweetie," she replied, her voice as warm as a freshly baked pie. "You two have fun!" She turned back to her book, her screen dancing with curiosity as they climbed the stairs. Chip's room was at the end of the hall, but they weren't going there yet. "C'mon," he whispered to Alex, his screen sparkling with excitement. "I want to show you my Dad!" He led him to the bed room door. They tiptoed closer. Plankton's on the bed. Alex peered around the doorframe, their curiosity piqued. "Surprise!" Chip shouted, jumping forward. Plankton's antennas shot straight up, a mix of shock and annoyance. But Plankton didn't move. He remained frozen in place, his eye vacant and unblinking. Alex took a step back, concerned. Chip's excitement faded into puzzlement. "Dad?" he called out, nudging Plankton's arm. No response, not even a twitch. They both stared at him, the room silent except for the faint buzz of a neon sign outside. Plankton's body was rigid. Chip felt a twinge of fear. This wasn't like his dad, who was always bursting with ideas and energy. Alex's grip on the doorknob tightened. They approached the bed slowly. Plankton remained unblinking. "Dad, are you ok?" Chip asked, his voice cracking. He reached out to shake him gently. Plankton's arm was cold and stiff, like a mannequin. Chip's heart raced. He'd never seen his dad like this before. Alex's eyes widened in alarm, their grip on the doorknob turning white. They stepped back, exchanging glances. "Chip, what's going on?" Alex whispered, fear seeping into their voice. Chip's eyes searched the room, his heart racing. "I don't know," he replied, "but we have to do something!" He rushed to the bedside, his hands trembling as he touched his dad's face. "Dad! Dad!" Alex hovered near the door, unsure of what to do. "Should we get your mom?" Chip nodded, his voice shaking. "Yeah, we need to tell." They both bolted out of the room and sprinted down the stairs. "Mom!" Chip yelled, "Something's wrong with Dad!" Karen looked up from her book, her face puzzled. "What do you mean, Chip?" But when she saw the look on his face, she set the book aside and followed them upstairs. In Plankton's room, she paused. The silence was heavy, and the tension was almost palpable. She could see the fear in Chip's eyes, mirrored in Alex's wide gaze. They pointed to the bed, where Plankton still sat, unmoving. Karen took a deep breath. She had known about Plankton's secret for years—his autism. But moments like these were always difficult to navigate. "It's okay," she assured them, her tone calm and steady. "Sometimes Daddy has these moments where he goes into his own world. It's part of who he is." She approached the bed slowly, her movements deliberate and gentle. Plankton's chest rose and fell with his breath, but he didn't acknowledge their presence. Karen placed a hand on his shoulder, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and understanding. "Plankton?" she called softly, her voice barely a whisper in the quiet room. No response. Her heart ached for her husband, trapped in his own thoughts. She had learned over the years to recognize the signs of his episodes, but seeing him like this never got easier. Carefully, Karen sat down beside him, her hands resting on his shoulders. "It's okay, sweetie," she murmured, her voice soothing. "You're safe." Slowly, she began to rub his back in small, comforting circles. Chip and Alex watched, silent and worried, from the doorway. Minutes ticked by like hours. Karen's gentle persistence never wavered. Then, almost imperceptibly, Plankton's shoulders relaxed, his eye blinking back into focus. He looked around the room, bewildered. "Karen?" he croaked, his voice hoarse from disuse. Chip and Alex breathed out in relief. Karen smiled warmly, her eyes never leaving Plankton's. "It's okay, honey," she said, her voice a lullaby. "You're back with us." Plankton's gaze found hers, his mind slowly returning from its solitary adventure. He looked from her to the two in the doorway, confusion etched on his face. Alex took a tentative step forward, their heart still racing. "Are you okay?" Plankton blinked. "What happened?" Plankton managed to ask, his voice scratchy from his silent reverie. Karen stood, placing a comforting hand on his knee. "You had one of your episodes, sweetheart," she explained gently. "But it's okay. You're back now." Chip stepped into the room, his eyes brimming with relief. "What's an episode?" Alex asked softly, their curiosity overcoming their fear. Karen turned to them, her expression gentle. "It's like his brain goes on a little trip," she said, trying to simplify it. "It's part of him. Sometimes he needs time to come back." Alex nodded, their eyes still glued to Plankton. "Does he know he does it?" they asked, their curiosity genuine. Karen squeezed Plankton's hand. "He knows, honey," she explained. "But sometimes it's like he can't stop it." Chip felt a pang of sadness, his earlier excitement now replaced with a deep concern for his father. He knew that his dad was different from other parents, but he had never seen him like this. It was as if Plankton had been taken from them for a brief moment, leaving a shell in his place.
A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY x (By NeuroFabulous) They stepped out of the car, the sand crunching beneath their feet. Chip looked over at Plankton, his heart racing with hope. "Ready?" he asked, his voice tentative. Plankton nodded, his antennas lifting slightly. "Let's go," he said, his voice still tight. But there was a hint of excitement in his eye, and Chip felt a glimmer of hope. The beach was relatively empty, the waves rolling gently onto the shore. Karen gave them a beach ball and sat down, watching her family with a mix of hope and trepidation. Chip tossed the ball to Plankton, his eyes searching his dad's antennas for any signs of discomfort. They were slightly elevated, but not as tight as they had been earlier. Plankton caught the ball with unexpected grace, his antennas twitching with concentration. He threw it back with a soft chuckle, his arm moving in a fluid arc. The ball sailed through the air, catching the sun's glint before landing in Chip's outstretched hands. Karen watched from their picnic blanket, her heart swelling with pride. It was a simple game, but it was a bridge between them, a way to connect without words. She saw the tension in Plankton's shoulders ease slightly with every catch and throw, his antennas swaying gently with the rhythm of their play. Chip's laughter was like music, his movements uncoordinated but earnest as he tried to keep the ball in the air. Plankton's eye followed the ball, his antennas twitching in time with the breeze. The beach ball arced through the sky, a bright spot of color against the azure backdrop of the ocean. Plankton's gaze never left it, his focus unwavering. When it reached its peak, he lunged, his arm snapping up to meet it. The crack of the ball against his hand echoed in the salty air as it soared back towards Chip. Sand flew up around his feet as he took a step back, bracing for the impact. The ball hit his hands with surprising force, but he managed to keep it in play. Plankton's antennas waved slightly as he watched, his eye flicking from the ball to Chip and back again. His movements were precise, almost robotic, but there was something undeniably graceful about the way he played. It was as if the beach, the waves, and the wind were all part of a grand symphony, and he was the maestro conducting it with the flicker of a smile. Chip, on the other hand, was a flurry of awkward limbs and enthusiasm. He stumbled and tripped, but never lost his determination. With each catch, his smile grew wider, and his laughter grew louder. He was discovering a new side to his father, one that didn't need words to express joy. Their volleys grew longer, their movements more in sync. Plankton's antennas swayed with the rhythm of their game, a silent testament to his enjoyment. Karen watched from the picnic blanket, her heart full. For the first time in a long while, she saw a genuine smile on Plankton's face, one that wasn't forced or fleeting. But then, Chip's laughter grew too loud, too abrupt, and Plankton's antennas snapped back, his body tensing. Karen's smile faltered, knowing what was coming. "Oh wow!" Chip exclaimed as he made an impressive catch, his voice booming across the beach. Plankton's body jerked at the sudden noise, his eye widening in surprise. For a moment, Chip didn't notice, his excitement clouding his judgment. But then he saw Plankton's antennas flatten against his head, a clear sign of distress. His heart sank as he realized his mistake. "Sorry, Dad," he said quickly, his voice softer. "I didn't mean to..." Plankton's eye blinked rapidly, his antennas quivering as he tried to regain his composure. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice strained. "Just... just don't do that again." Chip nodded, his own smile fading as he saw his dad's distress. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the excitement bubbling inside. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice softer. "I didn't mean to..." But Plankton had already turned away, his antennas drooping as he stared out at the sea. Karen's eyes met Chip's over his shoulder, a silent message of understanding and reassurance. She knew her son had meant well, but the sudden loudness had triggered discomfort, risking sensory overload. Chip felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He knew he had to be more careful, more mindful of his father's needs. He took a deep breath, trying to push down the urge to apologize again. Instead, he opted for a gentler approach, his voice low. "Dad, I'm sorry," he said, stepping closer. "Let's sit for a bit?" Plankton's antennas twitched, his body still tense from the sudden sound. He nodded, his eye not leaving the hypnotic dance of the waves. Chip followed his dad's gaze, the apology still lingering on his tongue. He swallowed it down, knowing it wouldn't help now. Instead, he sat down next to him, leaving a respectful distance between them. He watched as Plankton's antennas slowly began to rise, his breathing evening out. The waves continued their rhythmic dance on the shore, and Chip focused on their soothing sound, hoping it would calm his father as well. He knew Plankton was sensitive to noise, and he had forgotten in his excitement. He vowed to do better next time, to remember his dad's boundaries.
A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY iii ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ: t̶h̶r̶e̶a̶t̶ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᴰᵃʳᵏ ᵀᵒᵖⁱᶜˢ (By NeuroFabulous) ɪ ᴅᴏɴᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴀᴄᴛs Karen turned to Chip, her face a mask of calmness. She knew she had to explain, but she also knew it wasn't going to be easy. "Let's go talk to Dad," she said, her voice steady. Chip nodded, his hand in hers as they walked back up the stairs. Plankton was still sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked up as they approached. "Daddy?" Chip's voice was small and trembling. Plankton's expression shifted from confusion to realization. He knew he had been somewhere else, lost in his thoughts again. Karen sat down next to Plankton, her eyes meeting Chip's. "Chip, sweetie, there's something we need to tell you about Daddy," she began, her voice a gentle whisper. Chip looked at her, his eyes full of questions. "What is it, Mom?" Karen took a deep breath. "Your Dad has something called autism," she began, her voice soft. "It's like a special way his brain works that makes him see the world differently than we do." Chip's eyes widened. "Is that why he did those weird things?" he asked, his voice filled with curiosity rather than judgment, but that's not how Plankton took it. His expression grew defensive. "Weird things?" Plankton's voice was sharp. "What do you mean, Chip?" Karen's gaze softened as she saw the look of hurt in Plankton's eye. She placed a comforting hand on Chip's shoulder. "Sweetie, it's not that he does weird things. It's just that sometimes his brain needs a break. It's like he goes on a little vacation without telling us. It's called an episode." Plankton flinched at the word, his antennas drooping. "But why does it happen?" Chip asked, his voice still filled with innocence. "Well, autism is like a different operating system for the brain," Karen explained, choosing her words carefully. "Some people with autism have moments where their brains need to recharge or process information in a way that's unique to them. It's not weird or wrong, just different." Chip looked from Karen to Plankton, his mind racing with questions. "So my dad's just being... special?" he asked, trying to make sense of the situation. Plankton's gaze fell to the floor, feeling patronized and belittled by Chip's curiosity. "In a way, yes," Karen said, her voice soothing. "But it's not something to be ashamed of. It's part of who Daddy is, and it makes him special in a lot of wonderful ways." She took his hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "But it can also make things difficult for him, like today." Chip nodded slowly, trying to digest the information. "Does that mean he won't ever be able to play with us like other dads?" His question, though unintentionally, was laced with a hint of disappointment. Plankton's eye narrowed, and he felt the sting of microaggression in his son's words. "Chip, I can play with you. It's just sometimes I need to be by myself, okay?" His voice was tight, the frustration of years of misunderstanding bubbling to the surface. Karen intervened, sensing the tension. "Chip, Dad's episodes are just part of who he is. He loves you very much, and he'll always be here for you." But Chip's mind was racing. He couldn't help but wonder if there was something wrong with his dad. He looked at Plankton, his confusion and fear evident. "But why does he have to be like this?" Karen sighed, her heart heavy with the weight of the conversation. "Chip," she said gently, "it's not a choice. It's just how Daddy's brain is wired. It's not something bad, just different." Chip frowned, his brow furrowed as he thought. "But why can't he just turn it off?" He didn't mean to sound so dismissive, but the concept of his father being 'different' was still difficult to grasp. "Why's he gotta have this...this thing? I mean, if it makes him sick, why do we have to keep hanging out with him?" The words were out before Chip could even realize the impact they would have. Plankton's eye snapped up. A wave of fury washed over his face, his small form seemingly growing in size as his autistic mind processed the unintended slight. "You think I'm sick?" he roared, his voice echoing through the room, the walls seemingly trembling with his rage. The sudden outburst startled Chip, his eyes going wide with shock. He had never seen his dad like this before—his usually quiet and introspective father now a whirlwind of raw emotion. Karen's grip on his shoulder tightened, a silent warning to tread carefully. "No, Chip," she began, her voice firm but calm. "Autism isn't an illness. It's not something Daddy can just turn off or ignore." But Plankton's fury was unyielding. He stood up, his entire body trembling with the intensity of his anger. "You think I'm a burden?" he shouted, his voice shaking the very air around them. Karen's eyes flashed with a protective flame, her grip on Chip's shoulder becoming almost painful. "Chip, you need to apologize to your father," she said, her voice leaving no room for argument. Chip looked up at her, his own anger building. "Why? I just want a dad who's normal!" His voice was laced with frustration and hurt. "Why can't he just be like everyone else's dads or else leave?" The words hung in the air like a toxic cloud, heavy with ableism and pain. Karen's face fell, her heart breaking for Plankton. "Chip, that's not fair," she said, her voice a mix of disappointment and sadness. "Your dad can't just change who he is because you don't understand." Plankton's face was a storm of emotion. He looked from Karen to Chip, his anger fading to something deeper, something more profound. It was the look of a man whose entire world had just been questioned by the person he loved most. "You think I'm not good enough?" he whispered, his voice shaking with barely contained hurt. Karen's eyes filled with tears, her heart breaking for her husband. "Chip, that's not what you meant," she began, but Plankton cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Let him speak," he said, his voice deflated. "Let him say what he really thinks." His gaze was unblinking, a challenge in his eye that Chip didn't quite understand. Karen took a deep breath, her heart breaking for the both of them. "Chip," she started, her voice steady despite her tears. "You know we love your dad just the way he is, right?" But Chip's anger and confusion were like a dam that had burst. "Yeah, but why does he have to be like this?" he demanded. "Why don't you just get me a better dad?" The words were like a slap in the face, and Plankton's eye widened in shock. Karen's grip on Chip's shoulder tightened, but she didn't say a word. She knew this was something Chip had to work through on his own. "Better?" Plankton's voice was hollow, echoing the emptiness in Chip's heart. "What makes a 'better' dad, Chip?" Chip's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger. "One who can play with me without getting stuck like a broken toy!" he shot back. "Even Mom doesn't want you around when you're like that!" The accusation hung in the air like a sword, slicing through the tension. Plankton's antennas drooped, his eye reflecting a deep hurt that Chip couldn't comprehend. "Is that what you think, Karen?" he asked, his voice barely audible. Karen's eyes snapped to Chip, her expression a mix of anger and sorrow. "That's not what anyone thinks, Chip," she said firmly. "Your dad is a wonderful person. And he's the only dad you've got." But Chip's frustration had taken over. "Yeah, well, maybe you should've picked a dad who actually deserves to be here," he spat, his words dripping with accusation. "May be we'd be happier if we could just start over without the 'autistic' baggage and get someone who doesn't need to be babysat all the time. Or better yet, maybe we should just get rid of him." His voice was harsh, his thoughts racing in a whirlwind of pain and confusion. The room fell silent, the air thick with the tension of unspoken truths and misunderstood pain. Karen's hands were trembling, her eyes filled with a mix of anger and hurt. "Chip, you can't say things like that," she managed to choke out, her voice barely above a whisper. Plankton's expression was unreadable, his body rigid with the weight of his son's accusations. "Is that what you want?" he asked, his voice devoid of emotion. "Do you wish I was gone?" Karen's grip tightened on Chip's shoulder, her eyes flashing with anger and hurt. "Chip, that's enough!" she exclaimed. "You don't mean that!" But Chip's rage was like a wildfire, spreading uncontrollably. "Maybe we would!" Chip shouted, his voice echoing through the room. He didn't know where these words were coming from, but they felt like a release from the pressure cooker of his thoughts. "Maybe if you weren't around, we could be a real family! Even Mom wouldn't have to pretend everything's okay all the time, because she's too nice to go out and get a husband instead of being a burden she has to take care of like a parasite!" The moment the words left his mouth, Chip felt a deep pang of regret. But the damage was done. Karen's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. Plankton's antennas quivered, his face white as a sheet.
A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY iv ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ: t̶h̶r̶e̶a̶t̶ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᴰᵃʳᵏ ᵀᵒᵖⁱᶜˢ (By NeuroFabulous) ɪ ᴅᴏɴᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴀᴄᴛs "Chip!" Karen's voice was a whipcrack, full of pain and anger. "How could you say such a thing?" Plankton's eye were wet with unshed tears, his body trembling as he stared at his son, his mind racing to process the hurtful words. "Maybe I am a burden," he murmured, his voice so low it was almost lost in the heavy silence. Karen's grip on Chip's shoulder tightened. "That's enough," she said, her voice shaking. "You don't mean that, Chip." But the look on Plankton's face told her that the damage was done. Chip stared at his dad, his heart racing. He hadn't meant to say those things, but the anger and confusion had just spilled out. He saw the hurt in Plankton's eye, the same eyes that had looked at him with love and pride so many times before. He felt a lump form in his throat, his cheeks burning with guilt. "Dad, I'm, I just..." He trailed off, not knowing what to say next. Plankton's gaze was unflinching, his hurt palpable. Chip looked at his dad, his heart racing. He could see the pain etched on Plankton's face, the way his antennas drooped. "I didn't mean it," Chip stammered, his voice shaking. "I'm sorry." The silence was deafening. Plankton's eye searched his son's, looking for any hint of sincerity. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "You've never seen me as a burden before." The words were like a knife twisting in Karen's heart. Karen's eyes filled with tears as she watched the exchange between her husband and son. She had always tried to shield Chip from the harsh realities of Plankton's condition, but now it seemed those efforts had only created a chasm of misunderstanding. "Chip," she said, her voice shaking with emotion, "you know that's not true. Your father is not a burden. He's a brilliant scientist, a loving husband, and the best dad we could ever ask for." Chip's eyes fell to the floor, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his words. "But sometimes it feels like it," he mumbled, his voice thick with regret. Karen's eyes searched Chip's face, trying to understand his pain. "Sweetie, everyone has their own challenges. Daddy's just have to do with the way his brain works. It doesn't make him any less of a person or a dad." But Chip's frustration remained, his voice cracking. "But why can't he just get better?" he demanded, his eyes filled with a desperation that neither Karen nor Plankton had ever seen before. "I mean, if he's so smart, can't he just fix it? If not, then why do we have to keep him around?" Karen's heart sank as she watched the conversation spiral out of control. She knew that Chip didn't mean what he was saying, but the hurt on Plankton's face was real. But Chip wasn't listening. His thoughts had turned to a darker place, one fueled by his desperation for normalcy. In a moment of cruel manipulation, born out of fear and frustration, he looked up at Plankton. "Chip," Karen began, her voice firm but gentle, "autism isn't something that can be fixed. It's part of who your dad is. And we..." But Chip cut her off, his voice driven by a desperate anger that surprised even him. "If you can't play with me, if you can't be a real dad, then maybe you shouldn't be here at all," he said, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. "Maybe we should just... "Chip!" Karen's voice was a whipcrack, eyes filled with horror. "Chip, that's enough!" she snapped. But her words seemed to fall on deaf ears. Chip's mind was a tumultuous sea of emotions—his frustration, confusion, and fear of the unknown had led him to a dark and dangerous place. Plankton looked at his son, his eye wide with shock and pain. "Chip," he began, his voice shaking, "you don't mean that. I'm your father. I love you." But Chip's anger had turned to a cold resolve. "It's for the best," he said, his voice eerily calm. "If you can't be a real dad, then maybe it's time for you to go." The words hit Plankton like a freight train. He felt the air leave his lungs, his antennas drooping further than ever before. "Chip," he choked out, his voice shaking. "What are you saying?" Chip's eyes were cold, his face a mask of determination. "I'm saying that maybe you shouldn't be here," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Maybe it would be better for everyone if you just weren't around anymo-" He was cut off by a sound that seemed to shake the very foundations of the Chum Bucket—a wail so deep and mournful that it seemed to echo through the very fabric of their lives. It was Plankton, his tiny body wracked with sobs that seemed too large for his frame. Chip had never seen his dad cry before, and the sight of it made him feel small, his words weighing on him like an anchor. Karen's grip on his shoulder loosened, her eyes filled with a mix of shock and despair. She moved to comfort Plankton, her arms wrapping around him as he collapsed into her embrace. "It's okay," she whispered, rocking him gently. "It's okay." Chip stood there, watching his parents, the gravity of his words finally sinking in. He had never seen his dad like this before—so weak, so vulnerable. A pang of guilt shot through him, and he felt the weight of his own cruelty. Plankton continued to sob, his body convulsing with the force of his emotions. Karen looked up at Chip. "Your dad needs us right now," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "Please, go to your room and think about what you've said." Her eyes were filled with a mix of anger and sadness, but mostly, she looked disappointed. Chip nodded, feeling the full weight of his own words crash down on him. He turned and walked away, each step heavier than the last as he went to his own room.
A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY vi (By NeuroFabulous) Outside, the corridor was cold and empty, the neon lights of the Chum Bucket flickering above them. Karen's eyes were filled with a sadness that Chip had never seen before. "Why did I say those things?" Chip asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it." Karen took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "Your dad's autism is life-long," she said, her voice shaky. "It's not something that you can just ignore or wish away." Her hand rested on his shoulder, warm and comforting. "But it doesn't make him any less of a person, or any less of a father. He loves you so much, Chip. More than you'll ever know." Chip nodded, his eyes still on the floor. "But I hurt him," he said, his voice a whisper. "I don't know how to take it back." Karen's grip tightened on his shoulder. "You will," she assured him, her voice steady despite her own emotions. "You'll learn to understand, and you'll tell him you're sorry. But right now, let's just give him some space." They walked down the corridor, each step echoing in the silence. "But why does Dad get so upset?" Chip asked, his voice still shaky. "Is it becau…" "His emotions can be intense," Karen explained, her voice gentle. "It's part of his autism, Chip. Sometimes, things that seem small to us can feel really big to him." She paused, her gaze distant as she searched for the right words. "Imagine if someone kept turning the lights on and off while you were trying to read a book. It's like that for him, but with sounds, and feelings." Chip frowned, trying to comprehend. "But why does he get so mad at me?" His voice was small, filled with a sadness that tugged at Karen's heart. Karen sighed, her eyes full of empathy. "Your dad's brain works differently, honey," she said, her tone soft. "Sometimes things can be overwhelming for him. And when he's overwhelmed, his feelings can get really big, like a wave that crashes down and covers everything." She paused, considering her words carefully. "It's not because he doesn't love you. It's just how he deals with things." Chip nodded slowly, his eyes still red and swollen from crying. "But why does he freeze up?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's like he's not even there." Karen's gaze softened, her hand still on his shoulder. "Sometimes, his brain gets too full, and he ends up having an absence seizure, where he just sort of... goes away for a bit. It's like his brain is taking a quick vacation," she said, trying to make it relatable for Chip. "But he's always right here." Chip looked up at her, his eyes filled with a mix of confusion and fear. "But why does he do that?" he whispered. "Is he okay?" Karen's hand squeezed his shoulder, her eyes full of warmth. "It's a part of his autism, sweetie," she said, her voice soft. "When things get too much, his brain automatically just... takes a break. It's not something he does on purpose, it's just his body's way of coping." "But it scares me," Chip admitted, his voice shaking slightly. "It feels like he's gone." Karen nodded, her eyes brimming with understanding. "I know it's scary, honey," she said, her voice soothing. "But it's important to remember that it's just his brain taking a little break. It doesn't mean he doesn't love you or isn't there for you." "But how do I know when it's going to happen?" Chip's voice was filled with a desperate need to understand, to control the chaos his father's condition had brought into his life. Karen took a deep breath, her eyes full of compassion. "You can't always know, Chip," she said gently. "But you can learn to recognize the signs." Her hand slid down to his, giving it a comforting squeeze. "When he starts getting upset, or if you see him getting overwhelmed, that's when you know he might need some space or a quiet moment to regroup." "But why does he hate hugs?" Chip's question hung in the air, filled with the innocence of a child seeking understanding. Karen took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "It's not that he hates hugs, Chip," she said, her voice gentle. "It's just that sometimes, certain textures or pressures can be really overwhelming for him. It's like if someone was tickling you non-stop, even when you asked them to stop—it would drive you crazy, right?" Chip thought about it, nodding slowly. "But I don't get it," he said. "Why can't he just get used to it? I've seen you hug..." "It's not that simple," Karen interrupted gently. "I know you don't understand, but hugs can be really difficult for your dad. His body can't always make sense of the sensation, and it can feel like too much all at once." Chip frowned, his eyes searching hers for answers. "But both of you hug each other," he pointed out. "Why.." "It's different for me," Karen said, her voice soft. "Your dad's senses are like a radio that's always tuned in too loud. Sometimes, when we hug, it's like turning the volume down just enough for him to handle it." Her smile was sad but patient. "It's taken us years to figure out what works for us, Chip. Everyone's different, even with autism." Chip nodded, trying to understand. "But what do I do when he doesn't want to hug?" he asked, his voice tentative. "What if I just want to show him I love him?" Karen's eyes searched his, seeing the raw emotion beneath the surface. "You can show him in other ways," she said, smiling gently. "Words, or just sitting near him, or even just being patient with him when he's having a tough time." Chip considered this, his brow furrowed in thought. "But I want to make him happy," he said, his voice earnest. "How do I do that?" Karen's smile was sad, but understood. "You do that by loving him, Chip," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "By accepting him for who he is and not trying to change him. By being patient when he needs space, and by being there when he's ready for company. He does enjoy helping you with your experiments, doesn't he?" Chip nodded, remembering the times his dad had been most engaged and happy. "Yeah," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "He's the best at science." Karen's smile grew a little wider at this. "That's because his brain works differently," she said. "Sometimes, the way he processes information can make certain things easier for him to understand and enjoy." "But what if I don't know what to do?" Chip's voice was filled with a desperate need for guidance. "What if I make him upset?" Karen looked into her son's worried eyes and took a deep breath. "You'll learn, Chip. We all do. Your dad has his own ways of communicating, even if they're not always verbal. Sometimes, it's just about paying attention." "What do you mean?" Chip's eyes searched hers. Karen took a moment before answering, her gaze drifting to a spot over his head. "Look for the little things, Chip," she said, her voice thoughtful. "Like how his antennas move, or the way his eye looks. Sometimes, his body will tell you more than his words can. I know when he's happy because his antennas perk up and his eye twinkles." Chip watched her intently, his mind racing with questions. "What about when he's sad?" he asked, his voice small. Karen's gaze softened, her thumb gently stroking the back of his hand. "When he's sad, his antennas drop down," she said. Chip nodded, his eyes studying her intently. "And when he's mad?" Karen's expression grew more serious. "When he's angry, his antennas might go stiff and his brow can get really rigid," she explained. "It's his way of saying 'I'm overwhelmed, and I need you to back off.'" Chip nodded slowly, taking it all in. "And when do you know how he'd like to accept a hug?" Karen looked thoughtful. "Well, his body language will give you clues," she said. "If his antennas are relaxed and pointing slightly towards you, it might mean he's open to one. But always ask, okay?" Chip nodded, feeling a bit more hopeful. "How do I tell if he's uncomfortable with touch?" he asked, his eyes wide with concern. Karen squeezed his hand. "Look for the signs," she said. "If his body stiffens or his antennas pull back, it's usually a clue that he's not enjoying it." She smiled softly. "But remember, everyone's different, even within the spectrum. What works for one person with autism might not work for your dad." Chip nodded, his eyes wide with understanding. "Okay," he said, his voice small. "But what different types of touch..." "It's all about sensory input," Karen said, cutting him off gently. "Some textures and sensations might feel like sandpaper to him, while others might be soothing. It's a delicate balance, and it's different for everyone. But for your dad, he often prefers gentle, predictable touches. Like a soft touch on the arm. But he tends to dislike sudden hugs or pats on the back, or a squeeze of the shoulder." Her eyes searched Chip's, looking for any signs of doubt or confusion. "But always ask before you touch him," she added. "It's important to respect his boundaries." Chip nodded, his mind racing. "But what if he doesn't say anything?" he asked. "How will I know?" Karen sighed, her eyes reflecting the years of experience. "That's the tough part, Chip," she admitted. "Sometimes, your dad can't find the words. But if you pay close attention, you'll see the signs." "Signs?" Chip's voice was filled with uncertainty. Karen nodded solemnly. "When he starts to get overwhelmed, his body will show it," she said. "His antennas might jerk, or his eye might dart around the room. Sometimes, he'll repeat words or phrases over and over, like he's trying to find the right one to express how he feels."
A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY vii (By NeuroFabulous) Chip listened intently, his heart heavy with the realization that his father's world was so much more complex than he had ever imagined. "What do I do..." "When you see those signs," Karen said, her voice filled with patience and love, "you need to give him space. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is just be there for him, without expecting anything in return." Chip nodded, his eyes still swollen with tears. "But what if he needs help?" he asked, his voice small. Karen's expression was a mix of love and concern. "If he's having a seizure, it's important to keep him safe," she said, her tone serious. "Make sure there's nothing around that he could hurt himself on, and don't try to move him unless he's in danger." She paused, taking a deep breath. "And never put anything in his mouth. It can be really scary to watch, but he'll come out of it, I promise." "How will I know if it's a seizure?" Chip's voice was shaky, fear gripping him. Karen took a deep breath, her expression turning serious. "If he just stops talking or moving suddenly, and his eye glazes over, it's probably a seizure," she said, her voice calm and measured. "Sometimes he'll stare off into space, or his body might get really stiff for a moment." She paused, squeezing his hand. "But remember, his brain is just taking a little vacation, okay? And if he convulses or starts to fall, you have to catch him and guide him to the floor safely. It's really important that he doesn't get hurt." Chip's eyes were wide with fear, but he nodded, determined to be there for his dad. "What if..." "If it's a bigger seizure," Karen said, her tone gentle but firm, "you'll know. His whole body might shake, and he could fall to the floor." Her grip on his hand tightened. "If that happens, you need to stay calm. Alert me, and make sure he's in a safe place where he won't hurt himself." With a nod, Chip tried to absorb the information, his stomach churning with a mix of fear and determination. He didn't want his dad to go through that alone. "Okay," he murmured. Karen gave his hand a final squeeze before releasing it. "Why don't we check on him?" she suggested, her voice tentative. "Let's see if he's ready to talk." They approached the bedroom. "Remember, sweetie," she whispered. "Let him set the pace." The door was ajar, letting a sliver of light spill into the hallway. Through it, Chip could see his father, still sitting on the edge of the bed, his antennas slumped in defeat. The room was quiet, save for the faint sound of his father's shallow breaths. Karen knocked gently, her voice soft. "Plankton?" There was a moment of silence before they heard a sniffle. "Come in," Plankton's voice was barely audible. Karen pushed the door open, letting Chip step in first. Plankton's single eye was red and swollen from crying, and he was clutching a worn pillow to his chest while rocking in place. Karen's heart ached at the sight of her husband's distress, but she knew better than to rush in. Instead, she gave Chip a gentle nod, encouraging him to go first. Chip took a tentative step forward, his eyes on Plankton's small frame. He had never seen his dad so vulnerable before, his usual bravado and strength nowhere to be found. Plankton looked up at him, his eye searching, his antennas drooping. For a moment, the room was so quiet that Chip could hear his own heart pounding in his chest. With a deep breath, he moved closer, his heart racing. He knew he had to fix this, to somehow make it right. "Dad," he began, his voice shaking. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of it." Plankton's gaze was unreadable, his antennas lying flat against his head. "You don't get it," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You'll never get it." The words stung Chip, but he knew his dad wasn't mad at him. It was frustration, a feeling Plankton struggled to express without it coming out as anger. He took another step closer, his eyes locking with Plankton's. "I want to," he said, his voice earnest. "I want to understand you, Dad." Plankton's antennas twitched, a small sign that he had heard, that he was processing the words.
A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY viii (By NeuroFabulous) Chip's heart ached, his guilt a physical presence in his chest. He knew he had hurt his father, and he desperately wanted to take it back. "I know I don't understand, Dad," he said, his voice quivering. "But I want to learn. I want to be there for you. You're special..." Plankton's antennas perked up slightly at the word 'special'. It was a term he had heard before, but it didn't always come with the warmth and sincerity that filled Chip's voice. "You don't know what that means," he said, his voice low and defensive. Chip felt his heart sink even further, his stomach twisting into knots. "Huh?" Plankton's voice grew louder, his antennas shooting up. "You think because I'm 'special', you can just treat me like a toddler?" He threw the pillow across the room, his anger palpable. "I'm not some kind of science project, Chip!" The room grew tense as Chip swallowed his words, his eyes wide. He had never seen his dad so upset. "Dad," he began, his voice trembling. "I didn't mean it like that. I just want to—" "Don't," Plankton snapped, his antennas pointing sharply at the ceiling. "You think you can fix me with your little experiments?" His words were like a slap in the face, but Chip knew better than to let his own anger flare up. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside him. "I just want to help," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want to be ther-" "I don't need your help!" Plankton's outburst echoed through the room, his antennas quivering with emotion. "I don't need anyone to 'fix' me, especially not you!" His voice was raw, each word a dagger to Chip's soul. Chip took a step back, his eyes wide with hurt and confusion. "But Dad, I just wa-" "Don't," Plankton said, his voice sharp and final. "Just don't." Chip felt his throat tighten, his words stuck in his mouth. He had never seen his father like this, so raw and exposed. The silence was suffocating, each second that passed feeling like an eternity. Plankton's chest heaved with the effort of containing his emotions. His antennas were a blur of movement, indicating his internal turmoil. Karen watched from the doorway, her heart breaking for both her husband and her son, feeling torn between comforting them and giving them space. "I know," Chip said, his voice small. "But I'm tr-" Plankton's antennas shot up, cutting him off. "You think you know?" His voice was laced with bitterness. "You have no idea what it's like to be me.." Chip felt his heart sink further, his mind racing. "I'm sorry," he offered, his voice small. "But I do know that you're more than just your autism. You're my dad, and I love you." Plankton's antennas remained stiff, his eye unblinking. "Love," he spat out the word like it was a foreign object. "You don't know what that word means either, do you?" Karen stepped forward, her voice a soothing balm. "Plankton, sweetheart, let's not do this," she pleaded. "Chip's just trying to—" "I know what he's trying to do!" Plankton shouted, his antennas jerking erratically. "He's trying to make me feel less than, like I'm so—" "Dad, no," Chip said, his voice shaking. "That's not what I'm doing. I just want us to be closer, like you and Mom.." Plankton's antennas quivered, his body tensing. "Don't bring her into this," he warned. "You don't understand her either." His words were like a slap, but Chip knew his father wasn't in control of his emotions. "I do, Dad," Chip managed to say, his voice filled with determination. "I see how much you both love each other, and I just want to be a part of th-" "Don't you dare!" Plankton's voice was a roar, his antennas thrashing in agitation. "You don't get to use your mother as an excuse for your ignorance!" The room vibrated with tension, each word a blow to Chip's heart. He felt tears prickling his eyes but blinked them back, trying to maintain some semblance of calm. "I'm not using her, Dad," he said, his voice shaking. "I just want to know how to be close to you the way Mom..." Plankton's antennas shot up in a gesture of disbelief. "The way your mother is with me?" his voice was thick with anger. "You think you can just mimic that?" He stood up, his whole body shaking with emotion. Chip felt his heart drop, his words coming out in a rush. "No, Dad," he said, his voice trembling. "I just want to connect with you." He took a step towards his father, his hand outstretched, but Plankton took a step back, his antennas bristling. "I don't like your connecting," Plankton said, his voice cold. "I need you to leave me alone." His antennas waved erratically, a clear sign of his distress. Chip took another tentative step forward, reaching out again.. Plankton flinched, his antennas waving wildly. "I said no!" he shouted, his voice cracking. "I can't do this right now!" His eye darted around the room, seeking an escape from the overwhelming emotions. Chip's eyes filled with tears, but he knew pushing would only make things worse. He took a step back, his arms falling to his sides. "Ok," he whispered, his voice tight with unshed emotion.
A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY ix (By NeuroFabulous) Karen stepped in, her voice calm but firm. "Chip, let's give your dad some space," she said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "He needs time to process this." Chip nodded, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and understanding. He looked at Plankton one last time, his hand still hovering in the air. Plankton's antennas were still quivering, but his eye had softened slightly. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes. He stepped back, allowing Karen to lead him out of the room. As the door clicked shut behind them, Chip couldn't help but feel a sense of failure. He had wanted to bridge the gap between them, but instead, it felt like he had only driven it wider. Chip couldn't shake the image of his dad's antennas, a silent language of pain and anger. He knew he needed to learn to understand these subtle cues, to navigate the complex world of his father's autism. In the quiet hallway, Chip swiped at his eyes, trying to comfort himself with the knowledge that Plankton's outburst wasn't personal. It was just his brain's way of coping with the overwhelming emotions. But understanding didn't make the hurt any less real. He looked up at Karen, his eyes pleading. "What do we do?" Karen's expression was a mix of sadness and resilience. "We give him space," she said firmly. "He needs to come to terms with his feelings in his own way." Chip nodded, his eyes still on the closed door. "But what if he doesn't want me around?" he asked, his voice trembling. Karen took a deep breath, her hand rubbing his back in gentle circles. "Your dad loves you, Chip," she assured him. "He's just scared that you'll never truly understand him." She paused, her gaze thoughtful. "But you can show him that you're willing to try." They walked down the hallway, leaving Plankton's room behind them. Chip felt his heart heavy in his chest, the weight of his father's pain pressing down on him. "How?" he asked, his voice small. "How do I show him?" Karen squeezed his shoulder. "You just do," she said, her voice filled with a quiet strength. "You learn about autism, you learn about his likes and dislikes, and you listen to him." He had wanted to make his father happy, but instead, he had pushed him away. He sat down on the couch, his shoulders slumped. Meanwhile, Plankton remained in his room, his antennas drooping as his thoughts raced. He felt the weight of their conversation, his chest tight with the effort of keeping his emotions in check. He eventually goes out to find Chip and Karen in the living room. "Chip," he said, his voice shaky but determined. Chip looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and hopeful. Plankton stood in the doorway, his antennas slightly less rigid than before. Karen nodded encouragingly, giving him a gentle push forward. "I'm sorry, Dad," Chip said, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn't mean to upset you." Plankton's antennas twitched, his gaze drifting to the floor. "I know," he murmured. "But you have to understand, it's not easy." He took a deep breath, his body visibly relaxing. "I don't mean to push..." Karen stepped in, her voice soothing. "Why don't we all do something we enjoy?" she suggested. "Maybe something that won't overwhelm?" Chip's eyes lit up at the thought. "Yeah, like what?" Plankton took a moment, his antennas moving slightly as he thought. "How about a trip?" he suggested, his voice tentative. "Drive to the beach. It's quiet and calming." Chip's face lit up with excitement. "The beach?" He hadn't been in ages, and it was one of Plankton's favorite places. "Yes, let's do that!" Karen gave Plankton a warm smile. "That's a great idea," she said, her voice filled with relief and gratitude. In the car, the tension slowly began to dissipate as the ocean air filled the vehicle. Chip sat in the back, fidgeting with his seatbelt. "Dad, I want to ask you something," he said, his voice tentative. Plankton turned in his seat, his antennas twitching with curiosity. "What is it?" he asked, his voice a little softer than before. Chip took a deep breath, his heart racing. "I just want to know what I can do to help," he said, his eyes earnest. "What do you like?" Plankton's antennas moved slightly, a sign that he was processing the question. "Well," he began, his voice still tight with emotion, "I like it when you're patient with me." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving his father's profile. "Okay," he said, his voice small. "What else?" Plankton's antennas moved slightly as he thought. "I like it when you ask before you touch me," he said. "And when you respect my need for quiet sometimes." His eye flickered to the side, looking at Chip. "And I like it when you don't try to change me." Chip nodded, his eyes filling with tears. "I'll try, Dad," he said, his voice earnest. "I'll always ask, and I'll always love you just the way you are."
A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY xi (By NeuroFabulous) Plankton remained silent, his gaze locked on the horizon. Chip's heart ached for him, but he knew his father needed space to regain his composure. He watched as Plankton's antennas gradually lifted from their defeated slump, a subtle signal that he was okay. Chip took a deep breath, the salt air filling his lungs as he tried to think of a way to make things right. He knew he had to be careful, not to push too hard. "Dad," he began tentatively, "I know I messed up with the noise. I'll be quieter. Do you wanna kick the ball around?" Plankton's antennas twitched, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. He took a moment before turning to his son. "It's okay," he said, his voice still a little tight. "Yeah, let's kick the ball to each other.." They resumed the game, their movements quieter now. The beach ball rolled gently across the sand, its soft thuds the only sound between them. Chip felt a newfound respect for the complexities of Plankton's mind, for the challenges he faced every day. Plankton's antennas moved slightly as he watched Chip, his expression unreadable. Chip took care to keep his voice low, his movements slow and predictable. He knew that every little thing mattered to his father, every sound, every touch. As they played, Chip noticed that his father's antennas would perk up whenever a seagull squawked in the distance or a child's laughter carried on the breeze. He also noticed that Plankton's movements grew more fluid when the noise around them diminished. "Let's go closer to the water," Plankton suggested after a while, his antennas swaying gently. "It's quieter there." Chip nodded, understanding that his father needed to escape the potential sensory assault of the bustling beach. They walked in silence, their footprints disappearing behind them in the wet sand. The waves whispered to them, a gentle melody that seemed to soothe Plankton's antennas. When they reached the water's edge, Plankton took a deep breath, his antennas lifting slightly. The cool water made him flinch a bit. "You okay, Dad?" Chip asked, his eyes scanning for any signs of distress. Plankton nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah," he said, his voice calmer. "It's just chilly." Karen packed up their picnic, her movements efficient and quiet. She knew the importance of keeping the environment peaceful for Plankton. "Ready to go?" she called out. Chip nodded, his gaze still on his father's antennas. "Yeah, I'm ready." Plankton's antennas remained steady, a good sign. Karen picked up the picnic basket and gave them both a warm smile. "Let's make the trip home," she said, her voice calm.
A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY xii (By NeuroFabulous) They walked back to the car. Chip felt a weight lifted from his chest. Plankton sat in the backseat by Chip as Karen drives. The car ride home was quiet, but it wasn't the uncomfortable silence that usually filled the space. Chip could feel the tension easing as they drove away from the beach. Plankton's antennas were relaxed. As the car hummed along, Plankton's eye began to droop, his head lolling to the side. He was falling asleep, his antennas finally at rest. Chip felt his dad's weight shift, his body leaning into his own. He glanced over. Plankton had fallen asleep on his shoulder, soft snores escaping Plankton's slightly open mouth. Karen glanced in the rearview mirror at them. The sight of Plankton's antennas still, his body relaxed against Chip, filled her with hope. Maybe today was a step in the right direction. Chip felt Plankton's warmth, his snores steady and comforting. He shifted slightly, trying not to disturb his dad's slumber. His own thoughts were anything but calm. He was eager to learn more about his father's condition, to find ways to bridge the gap that had formed between them. Karen's eyes met his in the rearview mirror, her expression a mixture of pride and concern. Her voice was a gentle hum as she said, "You're doing great, Chip." It was all the encouragement he needed to hold his position, his mind racing with questions. The car's soft purr lulled Plankton deeper into sleep, his antennas twitching every now and then, as if dreaming of a world where the waves were made of quiet. Chip felt a strange kinship in this moment, his curiosity about his father's autism growing with every molecule of the salty air that filled his lungs. He studied the contours of Plankton's face, the way his antennas danced with the gentle sway of the car. It was a side of his father he had rarely seen—vulnerable, peaceful, his usual armor of sharp words and defensive sarcasm stripped away. Carefully, Chip adjusted his posture, his muscles protesting the stillness. His hand hovered over his dad's shoulder, unsure if his touch would be a comfort or an intrusion. Plankton's antennas twitched in his sleep, his snores a gentle rumble. Chip took a deep breath and gently placed his hand on Plankton's shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his palm. He felt a strange sense of peace spread through him as he held his father up, supporting his sleeping form. The car hit a small bump, and Plankton's head lolled to the side, his antennas flailing slightly. Chip's heart skipped a beat, afraid he had disturbed him. But Plankton remained asleep, his breathing unchanged. He gently adjusted Plankton's weight, trying to find a more comfortable position that wouldn't wake him. The soft snores grew quieter as Chip carefully moved his arm, supporting his father's body with his hand. Plankton's antennas twitched slightly, but he remained asleep. Chip held his breath, his heart racing as he adjusted Plankton's weight. Karen's eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, her gaze meeting Chip's. She offered a supportive smile. "He's okay," she said softly. "You're doing well." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving Plankton's peaceful form. He felt a strange mix of emotions— relief that his father was at ease, but also anxiety about the fragility of the moment. What if he moved wrong and Plankton woke up upset? What if he didn't move enough and Plankton's shoulder grew sore? Karen's voice was a gentle reminder in the quiet car. "You're doing the right thing," she said, her eyes still on the road ahead. "Just keep being there for him. He must be tired after today." Chip nodded, his gaze never leaving Plankton's sleeping form. He felt the warmth of his dad's body against his own, the soft snores a comfort. As they pulled into the garage, the car's engine purred to a stop. Chip held his breath as his dad's antennas twitched, but Plankton remained asleep. Chip turned to Karen, his expression a silent question. Karen nodded. "Let's get him inside," she murmured. They carefully unbuckled Plankton's seatbelt, his body still heavy with sleep. Chip slid his arm around his dad's waist. Karen opened the door, holding it wide. Together, they moved in a silent dance, lifting Plankton from his seat and guiding him out of the car. His antennas remained still, his body loose and relaxed against Chip's side as Karen put her hands under Plankton's armpits aiding in the gentle transfer. Plankton's head lolled back onto Chip's shoulder, his snores a soft counterpoint to the mechanical sounds of the garage door closing. They both lifted Plankton up by holding his arms, moving slowly and carefully as not to disturb his sleep. The house was cool and dimly lit, designed to be a haven for Plankton. They maneuvered him through the door, his bare feet dragging slightly. As they approached the couch, Chip's heart pounded in his chest. They had to be so careful not to disturb his father's rest. They lowered Plankton's body slowly, inch by inch, until he was lying down. His antennas twitched, but he remained asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Chip's arm was a cradle, supporting his father's head as they eased him onto the soft cushions.
A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY xiii (By NeuroFabulous) Once Plankton was settled, Chip swallowed his pride and spoke, his voice a whisper. "Can I sleep here by Dad tonight?" Karen paused, her eyes searching Chip's. She knew the request was more than just wanting to be close—it was a plea to be part of Plankton's world, to understand his needs. She nodded. "Of course. Just don't disturb him." Chip nodded. He carefully arranged a pillow and a blanket for his father, tucking him in with gentle precision. Plankton's snores grew deeper, a testament to his comfort, as Chip got a pillow for himself as he got under the blanket. Karen watched from the hallway, her heart swelling with pride. She knew the effort it took for Chip to be so attentive to his father's needs, especially after the emotional turmoil of the day. She whispered a goodnight and retreated to her room, leaving them to their quiet vigil. Chip lay there, his heart racing with the unfamiliar responsibility. He knew Plankton's sleep must be precarious, easily disrupted by the slightest disturbance. He focused on the steady rhythm of his father's breathing, the soft snores that punctuated the silence. He studied Plankton's features in the dim light, noticing the way his antennas lay still against the pillow. He felt a pang of guilt for the stress he had unknowingly caused earlier, but also a fierce determination to be better, to learn and understand. With a gentle touch, Chip reached out and lightly brushed Plankton's antenna. It twitched, but Plankton's sleep remained undisturbed. Chip knew his father's comfort was crucial, especially after the sensory bombards of the day. He lay there for hours, his own thoughts racing with questions about autism and how to support his dad. He made a mental note to find out, to understand the nuances of Plankton's condition, and to become an advocate for his father's needs. The first light of dawn began to filter through the curtains, painting the room in a soft glow. Plankton's antennas twitched, his eye fluttering open. Chip held his breath, not wanting to startle him. Slowly, Plankton's antennas lifted, his body stretching with the beginnings of wakefulness. His eye focused on Chip's face, and for a brief moment, there was confusion. Then, recognition. "Chip?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. Chip offered a tentative smile. "Hey, Dad," he whispered. Plankton's antennas swayed slightly as he sat up, his eye blinking away the sleep. He took a moment to process the situation, his gaze flitting around the living room. Last thing he remembered, they were all driving home from the beach.
A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY xiv (By NeuroFabulous) "What happened?" Plankton asked, his voice scratchy. Chip sat up, the morning light casting a soft glow on his face. "You fell asleep in the car," he said softly. "We didn't want to wake you." Plankton's antennas twitched as he took in his surroundings. The couch felt unusually comfortable, and his body was cocooned in the warmth of the blanket. "Oh," he murmured, his voice still groggy. He felt a twinge of embarrassment. He knew he had been tired, but falling asleep in the car was not something he usually did. And in front of Chip? He realizes that he slept through the night. Plankton felt a twinge of self- consciousness, his antennas drooping slightly. He had always been so careful, so controlled, around his son. But here he was, vulnerable and exposed, his body betraying his usual stoic demeanor. Chip noticed the change in his father's antennas, his heart tugging with emotion. He knew this was a side of Plankton that few people ever saw—his defenses down, his guard momentarily lowered. He took a deep breath, trying to think of the right thing to say. "Dad, it's okay," he said, his voice soft. "We all get tired. You just fell aslee—" "I know what happened," Plankton snapped, his antennas surging with irritation. He swung his legs over the side of the couch, his feet finding the cool tiles of the floor. Chip recoiled slightly, his hands coming up in a placating gesture. "I just meant—" But Plankton was already standing, his antennas rigid with tension. He stumbled slightly, his balance off from sleep. Chip jumped to his feet, reaching out to steady him. "Dad, you okay?" Plankton's antennas flattened against his head, his eye darting around the room. "I'm fine," he said, his voice tight. Chip's heart sank at the familiar defensive tone, but he knew better than to push. "Okay, Dad," he said, his voice soft. "Do you wa-" "I said I'm fine!" Plankton interrupted, his antennas bristling. "Just leave me alone." Chip took a step back, his hands up in a gesture of peace. He didn't know what to say, his mind racing with the fear that he had done something wrong. He watched as Plankton's antennas twitched erratically, his father's body language speaking volumes about his inner turmoil. "Dad," he began, his voice low and soothing. "Yo-" But Plankton was already moving away, his steps unsteady as he went to the room he shares with Karen. Chip followed him in, his heart aching for the man he was still trying to understand. "Dad, can we talk?" Chip asked, his voice gentle. "I just want to make su—" "What is there to talk about?" Plankton's antennas were a blur of agitation. "You saw me at my weakest, what more do you need to know?" Chip felt his heart drop, his hands curling into fists. "Dad, I just wanted to be there for you," he said, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean to make you feel..." But Plankton was already fumbling with his pillows, his antennas a flurry of anger as Karen sat up in her bed. Chip tries again, going onto Plankton's bed. "Dad, you don't have to be self-conscious with me," Chip said, his voice earnest. "I wa-" Plankton's antennas shot up, his eye flashing. "Don't tell me what I feel!" he snapped. "I said to leave me alone, Chip!" Chip felt the sting of his father's words, but he knew that the anger was a defense mechanism. He took a deep breath, trying to maintain his calm. "I'm sor-" "Just go, Chip," Plankton's voice was exhausted. "Please." Chip felt the rejection like a physical blow, his cheeks flaming with embarrassment. He knew he had overstepped a boundary, but he wasn't sure which one. Karen's expression was one of sadness as she watched the exchange from her side of the bed. "What's going on?" Plankton took a deep breath, his antennas still agitated. "Chip just... he saw me fall asleep in the car," he said, his voice gruff. "He's been hovering ever since!" Karen's eyes searched Chip's face, seeing the hurt and confusion. "Chip," she began gently, "your dad's just overwhelmed. He's not used to being so vulnerable in front of you." Chip nodded, his throat tight. "I just saw him sleeping," he said, his voice small. "I didn't... he just woke up, and he-" Karen held up a hand, her gaze compassionate. "It's ok," she said. "Just give him some space." Chip nodded, his eyes still on Plankton's retreating back. But as Chip stood up, his elbow accidentally brushed against one of Plankton's antennas. The reaction was instantaneous— a sharp intake of breath, antennas springing straight up. Chip froze, his heart racing. "I'm sorry," he stuttered, his hand reaching out to apologize. But Plankton's eye had gone wide, his antennas quivering with sensory overload. "Don't touch me!" he snapped, his voice high-pitched and strained. Chip's hand recoiled as if burned, his own eyes wide with shock. "Dad, I'm sorry!" he exclaimed. "It was an accident, I didn't mean to—" But Plankton was already retreating, his antennas a wild mess of sensory overload. "I said don't touch me!" he repeated, his voice trembling. "Just get out!" Chip stepped back, his hands lifting in the air as if to ward off the accusation. "Dad, I'm sorry," he said, his voice shaking. "I didn't mean to—" But Plankton was beyond words, his body a live wire of sensory assault. Chip had inadvertently touched a nerve, literally and figuratively. The sudden contact had sent a jolt through his father's system, setting off a storm of sensations that Plankton was desperately trying to contain. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Chip murmured, his eyes wide with concern. He knew he had to respect Plankton's boundaries, especially after all the conversations they'd just had about his condition. He backed away, his hands up in a non- threatening gesture. Karen's voice was calm as she addressed her husband. "Plankton, love, it's okay. It was just an accident. Chip's here to help." Plankton's antennas slowly lowered, his breaths coming in short gasps. "Dad," Chip said gently, his voice tight with worry. "I'm sorry." He took another step back, giving his father the space he so desperately needed. "I wanted to he-" "I know," Plankton's voice was strained, his antennas twitching with the effort to regain control. "I know you meant well, Chip." The room was thick with silence, the tension palpable. Karen rose from the bed, moving towards Plankton with careful steps. "Plankton, let's sit down," she suggested, her voice soothing. He sat down on his bed. But as Chip stepped back, his elbow brushed against the bookshelf, and the carefully arranged books came tumbling down. The thunderous sound echoed through the room, Plankton's antennas shooting straight up in alarm. Not only was it to loud, but the books were all carefully alphabetized, yet now they lay scattered on the floor.
A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY xv (By NeuroFabulous) The sudden chaos was too much for Plankton to bear. Karen and Chip watched in horror as Plankton's anger transformed into something beyond mere irritation—it was a full-blown meltdown. With a roar of frustration, Plankton swept his arms across the bedside table, sending the lamp and various knick-knacks crashing to the floor. Chip's eyes widened as he took in the destruction, his heart racing with fear and confusion. "Dad, no!" he shouted, rushing forward to intervene, but Karen's hand on his shoulder held him back. "Let me," she murmured, her eyes on Plankton, who was now on his knees, his antennas quivering with rage as he grabbed at the blanket, tearing it from the bed. Karen approached Plankton slowly, speaking in a calm, soothing tone. "Plankton, love," she said, her voice barely audible over the cacophony of his distress. "It's okay. It's just a mess, which can be easily fi-" But her words were drowned out by the crash of a vase smashing against the wall. Chip felt a pang of fear and helplessness as he watched his father. Plankton's rage was a living entity in the room, his antennas a blur of motion. Everything he touched, everything he saw, seemed to fuel his fury. With each crash and shatter, Chip felt his heart break a little more. He'd never seen his dad like this—so out of control, so overwhelmed. Karen's calm demeanor was a stark contrast to the chaos. "Dad, please stop," Chip pleaded, his voice trembling. "You're scaring me." But Plankton was beyond words, his autistic mind overwhelmed by the sensory assault. The now messy books hitting the floor had triggered a storm of emotions, each one more intense than the last. He had always managed to keep his meltdowns in check around Chip, but tonight, the dam had broken. Karen moved closer, her hands outstretched. "Plankton," she said calmly, "It's okay. Just breathe." But Plankton's eye was wild, his antennas a blur of overstimulation. He didn't heed her; he saw only the chaos that Chip had unwittingly unleashed. The room spun around him, a whirlwind of sounds and sensations that he couldn't escape. Karen knew the signs, having seen this before. With a gentle touch, she managed to get Plankton to look at her. "Look at me," she whispered, her voice steady. "Just focus on my voice." Slowly, the storm in Plankton's antennas began to subside. His breathing was still ragged, but he was no longer thrashing. Chip stood there, his body tense, his eyes fixed on the shambles of the room. He felt a mix of guilt and fear, his mind racing with what to do. Karen's voice broke the silence, firm but kind. "Chip, go to your room," she instructed. "Let me handle this." But as Chip turns to do so, he sees the look in Plankton's eye—it's a mixture of anger and fear. He knew he had to do something more than just leave. With a shaky hand, he reached out to his father, his heart pounding in his chest. "Dad," he says, his voice trembling, "I'm here, and I didn't me—" But as Chip touches his cheek, that's when Plankton's fury boils over. With a snarl, Plankton shoves Chip away, sending him crashing into the wall. "Don't touch me!" he screams, his antennas a blur of rage. "Don't you ever touch me!" The pain explodes in Chip's chest as he hits the wall, his breath knocked out of him. His heart thunders, his mind racing as he tries to process his father's rejection. "Dad, I'm sorry," Chip stammers, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I just wanted—" But Plankton's anger has reached a fever pitch. Karen's eyes widened as she saw the rage in her husband's antennas, her heart racing as she realized the depth of his distress. "Chip," she said firmly, her voice cutting through the tension. "Go to your room, now." The pain in Chip's heart was palpable, but he knew his mother was right. He stumbled backward, his eyes never leaving his father's distressed form. Plankton was now standing, his antennas twitching violently, his whole body trembling with the intensity of his emotions. Karen's gaze flickered between her husband and son, her face etched with concern. "Plank..." But Plankton didn't hear her, his focus solely on Chip. With a roar of fury, Plankton tried to swat at Chip, but Karen stepped in, her arms wrapping around Plankton's body. The sudden restraint only intensified his rage. He struggled against her, his antennas a wild whirl of sensory assault. "Let me go!" he bellowed, his body a blur of flailing limbs. Karen held firm, her eyes never leaving Chip's as she whispered, "Go, now," her voice carrying a quiet urgency. Reluctantly, Chip turned and stumbled out of the room, his mind whirling with confusion and pain. He knew his father's meltdown wasn't personal, but the force of Plankton's rejection felt like a knife to the heart. As the door clicked shut behind him, he leaned against it, his breaths coming in ragged sobs.
A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY xvi (By NeuroFabulous) ᴀɴxɪᴇᴛʏ/ ᴘᴀɴɪᴄ, ꜰɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ ⚠︎︎ Karen's eyes filled with a mix of concern and determination as she held onto Plankton. She knew his meltdowns could be intense, but this was uncharted territory. His body was rigid with anger, his antennas flailing as he tried to free himself. "Plankton, you need to calm down," she said firmly, her voice steady despite the fear. "You're okay." But Plankton's antennas only twitched more erratically, his body thrashing as he tried to break free. "Let me go!" he screamed, his voice hoarse as Karen's grip tightens. Karen only holds on tighter, her love and concern a silent plea as she tries to soothe her husband's erratic movements. "Plankton," she repeats, her voice calm but firm as he flails. "Please ju—" Her words are lost in his growling as he tries to push her away. But Karen is determined, her arms restraining him. "Plankton, love, Chip's gone, and I need you to li—" But Karen's words were lost as Plankton's struggle grew more intense. His antennas whipped back and forth, a visual manifestation of the tempest inside him. Despite her soothing tone, his body thrashed wildly in her embrace. Karen felt her own heart race, worry etched deep in her features as she held on. This was not the gentle, loving Plankton she knew, but a version of him overtaken by his condition—his autism turning the man she loved into a creature of chaos. Plankton fought against her, his body contorting as he tried to escape her arms. His eye was wild. Karen's heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing with fear and love. She knew this was the autism speaking, not the man she knew. She tightened her grip as he began to throw his weight around. Plankton's antennas slapped against her, his movements unpredictable. "Chip's gone," she said calmly, her eyes locked onto Plankton's, trying to reach the person beneath the rage. "You're safe and so—" But Plankton's struggle intensified, his antennas a whirlwind of agitation. He threw his head back, hitting Karen's chest with a thud that reverberated through the tiny room. Karen winced, her grip never wavering. "Plankton," she said, her voice even, "I'm here for you. Chip's not in here anymo-" Her words were cut off as Plankton's body spasmed, his antennas lashing out and hitting her face. but she didn't release her hold. "I know it's hard," she murmured, "but I need you to be still. Hold still..." Plankton's eye was wild with fear, his antennas a blur as his body thrashed. "Let go!" he roared, his voice cracking with emotion. That's when Karen realizes Plankton's no longer fueled by anger, his movements no longer intentional but rather was involuntary jerks and twitches, as she saw in his eye the fear and panic. She now realized he knew Chip's gone and that since then, he's only been fighting out of terror. Karen realizes in horror that she only made it worse. Her heart clenched tightly in her chest as she recognized the traumatizing impact her restraint might have had on his overwhelmed autistic mind. She then immediately loosens her grip. "Plankton," she whispers, her voice shaking with her own fear and concern, "I'm sorry, I'm so so—" But her apology is lost as Plankton's antennas quiver, his body convulsing in fear. The realization hits her like a ton of bricks—she's not his protector right now, she's his tormentor. Karen's heart breaks as she watches the man she loves recoil from her own touch. She quickly releases him, stepping back to give him space. Plankton's antennas slap against his body as he stumbles backward, his legs giving out. He hits the floor, his antennas spasming as he curls into a ball, his whole body shaking with sobs. Karen's eyes fill with tears as she watches him, her heart breaking into a million pieces. She had only wanted to help, to be there for him, but instead, she had become his enemy. The fear in his eye was a knife to her soul. She knew the trauma her restraint had caused him, and she wished she could take it all back. "Plankton," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, "I'm so sorry." She holds out a tentative hand, hoping he'll understand that she's not a threat. But Plankton's antennas don't still, they pulse with fear as he scrambles away from her, his eye wide with terror. "No," he whispers, his voice hoarse. "Don't.." The word hangs in the air, a testament to the chasm that's suddenly opened between them. Karen's hand falls to her side, her heart racing. "Plankton, I won't touch you," she says, her voice shaking. "I'm just going to give you some space." Plankton's antennas slowly unfurled from their defensive cringe, his body uncurling from the fetal position. His chest heaved with heavy breaths, his eye darting around the room. The chaos from the meltdown had subsided into stillness, but the fear remained. Karen's eyes were red and puffy, her own pain mirroring his. She took a tentative step towards him, her hand outstretched. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I'm not going to touch you, I just want to make sure you're okay." Plankton's antennas quivered, his eye darting to her hand and then back to her screen. He knew her, knew she loved him, but fear had taken hold, twisting his reality into something unrecognizable. With each step she took, his heart hammered in his chest, his body taut with tension. He scooted away, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. Karen's eyes searched his, a silent plea for understanding. "Plankton," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the echo of his sobs, "please, let me help." Karen's hand hovered in the space between them, desperate to offer comfort but respecting the invisible boundaries Plankton had drawn. Tears of regret were shed. She wanted to take back her fear-induced restraint, to erase the terror from his face. But she knew it wasn't that simple. So she picked up the books and organized them the way Plankton had them, then cleaning up the remnants of the mess he made. Plankton watched her from his spot on the floor, his antennas still quivering with fear. He knew she was his safety, but the trauma was fresh, the trust fractured. Each movement she made was a potential threat to his sensitive state. His breaths came in shallow gasps, his body still poised to flee. Karen worked quickly and quietly, her movements calculated to cause the least amount of disturbance. The room slowly regained its order, the books back in their proper place, the broken vase cleared away. With each item she picked up, she felt a piece of their relationship mend. Finally, she turned to Plankton, who remained huddled on the floor. Her heart ached at the sight of him—his body still tense, his antennas drooping with exhaustion. "Can I help you up?" she asked gently, her hand extended tentatively. Plankton's antennas twitched slightly, but he didn't move. The fear had not fully abated, but the chaos had dulled to a murmur. He knew his wife was there, a beacon of safety in a world that was still spinning out of control. Karen knelt beside him, her hands hovering just above his shaking body. "You're okay," she whispered. "You're safe, and I'm sorry," Karen said, her voice thick with emotion. "I didn't mean to scare yo-" But Plankton's response was unexpected. A sudden gagging sound erupted from his throat, his antennas twitching erratically. Karen's eyes widened as she saw his face contort in fear and anxiety. "Plankton?" she asked, her voice laced with concern. "What's wrong?" Plankton's antennas shot straight up, his body convulsing as he tried to swallow down the panic that was rising in his throat. He was gagging, his eye squeezed shut as if to block out the world around him. Karen's heart skipped a beat as she realized the severity of his distress. "Plankton," she said, her voice urgent. "Look at me." Plankton's antennas quivered as he opened his eye, his gaze locking onto Karen's. Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of understanding, any glimmer of the man she knew and loved beneath the fear. The gagging subsided, his body still trembling with adrenaline. "I know you're scared," Karen continued, her voice soothing and gentle. "And it's my fault. But I'm here to help." Slowly, Plankton's antennas lowered, his body beginning to relax. He swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving hers. Karen moved closer, her hand still outstretched. "Can I?" With a nod, Plankton allowed her to touch him, his antennas still quivering with residual fear. Karen lifted him up gently, her touch feather-light as she guided him to the bed. He collapsed onto the mattress, his body finally giving in to the exhaustion that had been building all night. The room was eerily silent. Karen sat beside Plankton, her hand on his shoulder, her eyes never leaving his. "I'm so sorry," she whispered again, her throat tight with emotion. "I should have known better. I just wanted us all to be safe.." Plankton took her hand, putting it on himself in the way he felt like was comfortable. "I'm sorry Karen, but I love you so much. I understand. Thank you, it's the thought that counts.."
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𝖳𝖮 𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖫𝖣 pt. 14 Sequel to Autism And All by NeuroFabulous https://emojicombos.com/autism-and-all Read the Autism And All one first! "Plankton, are you ok?" Sponge Bob asks, his voice trembling. Plankton blinks slowly, the world swimming into focus. He feels...exposed. Vulnerable. He hates that. But he nods, his voice a whisper. "I-I-I-I…think s-so?" Mr. Krabs looms over them, his expression a mixture of shock and regret. "I didn't know," he says again, his voice cracking. "I had no ide-" "Please" Plankton says, his voice hoarse. He doesn't have the energy to be angry anymore. His body feels like it's made of jelly, and his arm throbs where Mr. Krabs' claw had been. But he understands now. Mr. Krabs is trying, in his own way, to make things right. And maybe, just maybe, Plankton can show his enemy what it means to be an ally. Mr. Krabs nods, his eyes shiny. "I promise," he says. "I'll do better. For you, for all of you." Plankton looks up at his enemy. Mr. Krabs looks down at his own hands, now trembling. "I'm sorry, Plankton," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn't underst--" But Plankton cuts him off, his tiny body pushing itself up onto his elbows. "You don't get it," he says, his voice shaking with anger. "You think you can just throw around words like 'respect' and 'understanding' and pretend to care about autism? After all you've done to me?" His words hang in the air like accusations, sharp and painful. Mr. Krabs looks at him, his eyes softening slightly. "Plankton, I-I didn't know," he stammers. "I just...I just want to help. I don't want to fight anymore." But Plankton's not having it. He glares up at him, his tiny fists balled. "Help?" He spits out the word. "You think this is helping? You think excluding me from your 'Autism Awareness' shindig makes you a champion?" His voice is hoarse from the seizure, but the anger in it is clear. "Well you're wrong, Krabs. You're not helping anyone by ignoring me!" Mr. Krabs' expression falls, his claws dropping to his sides. "I-I didn't know," he repeats, his voice now just a whisper. "I didn't know ye were autisti-" But Plankton isn't listening. With a grunt, he pulls himself to his feet, the pain in his arm fading to a dull throb. "You don't know anything," he says, his voice shaking. "You think you can just throw a party and call yourself an ally? It's not about you, Krabs." He turns to leave, his legs unsteady, but his determination firm. He's had enough of the Krusty Krab's insincere attention. He doesn't need his pity or their half-hearted attempts at inclusivity. He just needs to get out of there, away from the prying eyes and the whispers of concern. Walking home, Plankton's mind whirs with thoughts of Mr. Krabs' ignorance and his own fury. He's used to the taunts and the jokes, but this...this was different. This was supposed to be a place where autistic people were celebrated, not a stage for someone to play the hero. The irony isn't lost on him—his enemy, the man who has belittled him for years, now claiming to stand up for his community. When Plankton comes back, Karen greets him as usual. "Hey, Plankton," she says. But her smile falters when she sees his expression. "What happened?" Plankton shakes his head, his eye downcast. "It's...nothing," he mumbles, his voice tight. He can't bring himself to tell her about the seizure, about Mr. Krabs' finding out. But Karen's not so easily fooled. She takes one look at his bandaged arm and the haunted look in his eye and knows something's off. "What happened?" She asks again, her tone gentle but insistent. Plankton sighs, his antennae drooping. "Mr. Krabs," he says, his voice tight. "He...he found out." Karen's eyes widen in understanding. "And?" She prompts gently as he removes his bandages. Plankton's arm is a mess of red marks and bruises, a stark testament to Krabs' mistaken anger. "And he said he's sorry," Plankton says, his voice still tight with emotion. "He said he wants to help." But there's a bitter edge to his words that tells Karen all she needs to know about how Plankton really feels. She nods, her expression thoughtful. "Well, maybe this could be a good thing," she says. "Maybe it'll help him understand. Maybe it'll make things better between you two." But Plankton's not so optimistic. "Or maybe," he says, his voice a mix of anger and disappointment. "Maybe he'll just use it against me." Karen's expression softens, and she reaches out to gently pat his antennae. "Plankton," she says. "You can't control how others react. But you can control how you respond." Plankton sighs, his body slumping into the chair. He knows she's right, but it's hard to let go of the anger. He thinks back to the way Krabs' claws felt on his arm, the way his vision had swirled and his body had betrayed him. He's used to hiding his autism, keeping it a secret from those who wouldn't understand. But now, his deepest, most vulnerable part has been laid bare before his enemy. He shakes his head. "I don't know, Karen," he says, his voice small. "I just...I can't trust him." Karen nods, her gaze understanding. "I get it," she says. "But maybe, just maybe, he's trying to be better." Plankton stays silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the floor. He's not used to this, to feeling so exposed. He's spent his entire life hiding his autism from everyone, especially Krabs. And now, it's out there. His enemy knows his deepest vulnerability. With a sigh, he pushes himself up from the chair and heads to the bedroom, the solace of his small, controlled space. The doors clicks shut behind him, blocking out the sounds of Karen's kitchen and the distant laughter of passing fish. In the quiet, Plankton begins to stim. He rocks back and forth, his eye unfocused. The bedroom is a haven, his personal space filled with comforting items that help soothe his senses. He picks up his favorite fidget toy, the tiny plastic pieces clicking together in a rhythm that matches the beating of his heart. The repetitive motion calms him, centers him, as he tries to process the day's events. "Echo...echolal...lal...lal...la," Plankton murmurs to himself, his voice low and soothing. It's a word he heard earlier, a word that now holds a new meaning for him. He rolls it around his mouth, feeling the shape of it, the sound of it. It's a part of him now, a piece of his identity that he's still trying to understand.
🛸 🎠 🐎 | 🎥 🏇 🎥 | 🐎 🎠 🛸
𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 5 As they pack the last of their things, Plankton can't help but wonder what the science fair will be like. So many people, so many sounds, so much to process. It's a minefield of overstimulation, but for Chip, he's gonna try. Bags in the trunk, Karen gets in the driver's seat as Plankton and Chip sit in the back together. "You okay, Dad?" Chip asks, his voice gentle. Plankton nods, his antennae still as the car starts with a purr. After leaving the driveway Chip notices his dad's humming to himself, a soft, steady rhythm. Plankton's hands are in his lap, fidgeting slightly as he focuses on the hum. "What are you doing?" Chip asks, his curiosity getting the better of him. Plankton jumps in his seat, antennae shooting up. "I'm... uh...just...thinking?" He's flabbergasted that his son has caught him stimming. He's still trying to process the idea that his son now knows his deepest, most personal secret. Chip's eyes widen. "Thinking?" He repeats. "With a so-" "Chip," Karen interrupts. She knows Plankton's stimming, which he never likes to speak of. Yet she also knew Chip's trying to understand, and decided it's time to explain. "Your dad's humming is a stim," she says gently, keeping her eyes on the road ahead. "It's something some autistic folks do to help manage their sensory input or self-soothe." Chip nods, filing away the new information. "Oh," he says, as Plankton freezes. "So Dad, is that why you sometimes do that spinning thing with your fing--" "Chip!" Plankton snaps, his voice harsher than he intends. So Karen jumps in. "Sweetie," she says, turning in the passenger seat to face her son, "Dad's stims are private. They're like his personal way of taking a deep breath when things get too much. He doesn't do it for anyone else, just for himself. And if he's alright with sharing them with us, that's his choice. But it's important we respect his privacy." Plankton's gaze meets hers in the rearview mirror, gratitude in his eye, hands stilling as Karen continued. "And unless he says so, it's not for us to bring up or comment on them," she explains to Chip. "So your dad hums, or flaps his arms, or rocks his body, even muttering to himself. They're all his ways of stimming, and aren't to be interrupted or discussed unless he initiates it. If he seems distressed, you can ask if he needs anything, but otherwise, just be there for him." Chip nods, his face a picture of concentration. "Ok, Mom," he says. "But could, can I tr-" "NO!" Plankton's voice cuts through the car, sharp and sudden. He turns to face his son, his eye blazing. "I don't want you staring at or making fun of me!" Karen's eyes meet Plankton's in the mirror, filled with a mix of love and frustration. She knew this outburst is rooted in fear and vulnerability. "Chip wasn't trying to, Plankton," she says. Chip shrinks back, his face reddening. "I'm so sorry," he stammers. Plankton's face softens, his antennae drooping. "I know," he murmurs. "It's just...it's hard." Karen nods. "So the science fair is gonna be tomorrow, so the hotel we're going to tonight has reserved the contestants and their families rooms! So the three of us are gonna have to share the hotel room." Plankton's antennae twitch. "And, Dad," Chip says, his voice full of excitement. "It's going to be so cool! There'll be so many science lovers like us!" Plankton nods, trying to mirror his son's enthusiasm, but inside he's panicking. So many people, so many potential triggers. But he can't let Chip see his fear. He takes a deep breath, his hand against his own seat in a stim. "Yea." The car ride is quiet for a while, and Plankton finds himself getting drowsy. He fights the urge to close his eye. He knows if he dozes off, he'd be embarrassed, and he can't let that happen now, not with Chip watching him so closely. He focuses on the scenery passing by, the rhythm of the car's tires on the road, anything to keep himself awake. But it's a losing battle. His eyelid keeps drooping, his brain begging for rest. He starts counting the yellow lines on the road, then switches to red cars, but the monotony of it all just makes him sleepier. His head nods, and he jolts awake with a start, his heart racing for a moment. Chip glances at his father. "You okay, Dad?" Plankton nods, his antennae twitching with the effort to stay awake. "Fine, buddy," he says. But his body feels heavy, like he's sinking into the car seat. He decides to try distraction. "So, tell me more about your science fair schedule," he asks, hoping that his son's excitement will keep him alert. Chip's face lights up. "Well, tomorrow we've got the setup in the morning, then the judging starts right after lunch." He rattles off the various categories and his predictions for each, his voice rising and falling with enthusiasm. Plankton nods along, trying to keep up with the flurry of information. But his eyelid starts drooping again. "And then there's the final round!" Chip says, his voice carrying on despite Plankton's fading attention. "I've got my experiment all set up by myse—" Plankton's snore cuts his son off mid-sentence as his head lolls, his mouth slightly open, to Chip's shoulder. Chip looks at Karen in the front seat, her eyes glancing back at them in the mirror with a knowing smile. "It looks like he's really tired," she says, keeping her voice low. "It's okay to let him sleep." Chip nods, feeling a wave of protectiveness over his father. He chuckles, taking a selfie with Plankton's sleeping face on his phone. He forwards the selfie to Karen's phone. She tries not to giggle. "Oh, Chip," she smiles, "Dad's not gonna take that too kindly when he wakes up."
r/TwoSentenceHorror 5 yr. ago AlexDalcourt I like to flap my hands and vocalize- sometimes I do it in public. "Reports coming in that an Autistic child was killed by police for suspicious behaviour and resistance of arrest."
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.
𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 6 (𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ 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 The sounds Plankton makes shift again. "Skrink, skrink." Karen's eyes light up with understanding. "It's his brain's new way of saying 'I'm okay'," she whispers. "It's a 'stim'." Chip looks at his dad, his curiosity piqued. Plankton's antennae wriggle, his eye glazed over. "Skrink, skrink, skrink." The sounds are soothing, almost hypnotic. "It's like he's playing a tune," Chip murmurs. Karen nods. "In a way, he is," she says. "It's his brain's symphony." The room is bathed in the glow of Plankton's stims, his autism's unique melody. "Dad?" Chip asks tentatively, his voice a whisper. Plankton's head tilts slightly, his antennae still. "Skrink skrink skrink," he repeats. It's like he's in a trance, lost in a world only he understands. Plankton's eye flickers. "It's okay, Plankton," Karen whispers. "You can keep making your sounds." And then it happens. Plankton's voice shifts, echoing Karen's words. "It's okay, Plankton," he murmurs. Chip looks at his mom, his eyes wide. "Is he... is he okay?" Karen nods. "It's his way of processing," she says. "It's called 'echolalia'." Chip nods, his gaze never leaving his father's. "It's when his brain mimics the words he hears to make sense of them," she explains. "It's like when you repeat something until it feels right." Plankton's antennae twitch in time with his echoes. "It's okay, Plankton," he says, his voice a mirror of Karen's soothing tone. Chip smiles. "It's okay, Plankton," he repeats, trying to enforce his dad's calm. But Plankton thinks Chip's making fun of him. His antennae shoot straight up, his eye wide with hurt anger at Chip. "It's not a game, Chip!" Plankton snaps. "It's not something to tck tck... to mock!" Karen sighs, knowing this conversation needs to be handled with care. "Sorry, Dad," Chip says, his voice shaking. "I just... I thought it would he-" "It's not for you to think about!" Plankton cuts him off. Karen puts a hand on Chip's shoulder, her gaze on Plankton. "Chip didn't mean anything by it," she says calmly. "He just wants to understand and connect." She turns to Chip, her screen filled with compassion. "I know it's hard to see Dad like this," she says. "But remember, his autism is part of him, and we need to respect it. He doesn't like it when you mimic his sounds like that." Chip nods, feeling a wave of guilt. "I'm sorry, Dad," he whispers. Plankton's antennae droop slightly, but he doesn't look at Chip. "It's okay," Karen says, her voice soothing. "We're all learning here." Plankton's hand starts to move again, tracing patterns on the blanket. Karen watches. "It's his 'stimming', Chip," she says. "It's his way of self-soothing, and these movements and sounds help him to cope." Chip nods, his eyes still wet. "But why did he get so mad when I do it?" he asks. Karen sighs. "Because it's his own personal language, his way of understanding the world," she explains. "When you address it, he feels like you're invading his space, like you're not taking his feelings seriously. It's something his brain does for himself only." Karen smiles gently. "It's okay, Plankton," she whispers. "Chip's just trying to understand everything. You can keep making your sounds." Chip wants to help, but he doesn't know how. "Just let him be, Chip," Karen says, her voice soothing. Plankton shifts again, his eye teary. "It's okay, Plankton," he murmurs, echoing Karen's words from earlier. Chip clenches. He didn't mean to upset him, seeing his dad's eye welling up with tears. Karen's hand finds Plankton's, squeezing it gently. "It's okay, Plankton," she says. "You don't have to hide it from us." Plankton's tears spill over, tracing a silent river down his cheek. Karen's eyes never leave his. "You don't have to hide, Plankton," she whispers. "We're here for you." Chip watches. He doesn't know what to do, his mind racing. "Mom," he says, his voice shaking, "What can I do?" Karen turns to him, her expression gentle. "Just be here," she says. "Just listen and learn." Plankton's tears stream down. "It's okay, Plankton," he hears his wife say again. The words echo in his mind, a comforting mantra. "It's okay, Plankton," Plankton murmurs, trying to mimic her tone. But it sounds forced, wrong. He swallows hard. "That's right, Plankton," Karen says, smiling. "You're okay. You're safe, Plankton," she repeats. "You're here with us." Chip watches his dad, his heart breaking. "Mom, why is he...?" Karen's eyes are filled with pain. "It's his way of telling us he's okay," she says. "He's using my words because right now, his brain can't find his own." Chip nods, his eyes on his father. Plankton's hand is still moving, tracing the patterns on the blanket. "It's okay, Dad," Chip whispers. Plankton's crying intensifies, his tics becoming more pronounced. "Tck tck tck," he murmurs, his antennae flailing. Karen reaches for him, but he flinches away. "It's okay, Plankton," she says, her voice calm. "We're here." Chip watches, his own screen wet with tears. He's never seen his dad like this before. He feels like an outsider in a conversation he's always been a part of. "You don't have to hide your tears," Karen whispers to Plankton. "We're a family." Plankton's sobs become louder, his tics more pronounced. "Tck tck tck," he says, his body convulsing slightly. Karen's hand is firm but gentle on his back, offering silent support. "It's okay," she murmurs. "Let it out." Chip watches. "Why is he...?" his voice trails off. Karen looks at him, her screen full of love. "It's his way of saying he's overwhelmed, Chip," she whispers. "When he repeats my words, it's his brain trying to find the comfort it needs." Plankton's cries become louder, his tics more erratic. "Tck tck tck," he sobs, his body shaking. Chip feels helpless, his mind racing. He wants to make it stop, but he doesn't know how. "Just be here, buddy," Karen says, her voice calm. "Sometimes, that's all he needs." Plankton's tics morph into full-body shudders, his cries now muffled by the blanket. "It's okay, Plankton," Karen whispers, her hand still rubbing his back. "We're with you." Chip watches as his father's sobs echo in the room, each one a heartbreaking testament to the weight he carries. "You're not alone," he whispers, his voice tiny in the face of Plankton's distress. The words tumble from Plankton's mouth, a mix of Karen's soothing tones and his own raw pain. "It's o-okay, P-Plankton," he repeats, his voice broken. "It's o-okay." Karen's eyes well up too, but she remains steadfast. She's seen this before. "Tck tck tck," Plankton says, his body convulsing with each sob. "You don't have t-to tck tck hide it-t." Karen nods, her thumb brushing away a tear. "It's okay," she whispers. "We love you just as you are." Plankton's sobs turn into hiccups, his antennae twitching. "It's okay, Plankton," he says, his voice mimicking hers. Karen's hand moves in gentle circles on Plankton's back, her eyes never leaving his. "It's okay, Plankton," Karen says. "You're safe here." Plankton's sobs subside slightly. Karen nods. "That's right," she whispers. "Your sounds, your tics, they're part of you." Chip watches. He's never seen his dad so vulnerable. "But... but why?" he asks. Karen takes a deep breath. "His autism, Chip," she says. "It's like his brain has its own language, and when he's overwhelmed, it comes out." Plankton's tics become less erratic, his breathing even. "It's okay, Dad," Chip says, his voice trembling. "You're not alone." Karen smiles sadly. "He knows that, Chip," she says. "But sometimes, his brain just needs to speak its own words." Plankton's eye meets his wife's, the panic receding slightly as Chip watches.
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