Postictal Emojis & Text

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

About Epilepsy > Understanding epilepsy > Seizure Types and Classification Seizure Types Seizure classification is a way of naming the many different types of epileptic seizures and putting them into groups. Where in the brain the seizure starts (e.g. the onset) If the person is aware or not during the seizure Whether the seizure involves movement. Seizures can be divided into three major groups. Focal onset (formerly known as partial seizures) means the seizure starts in just one small region of the brain. It may spread to other areas of the brain. These seizures can often be subtle or unusual and may go unnoticed or be mistaken for anything from being intoxicated to daydreaming. About 60% of people with epilepsy have focal onset seizures – which are also simply known as focal seizures. Focal onset seizures can be further divided into two groups relating to a person’s awareness during a seizure: Focal aware: the person is fully aware of what’s happening around them but may not be able to talk or respond (formerly known as simple partial seizures). They are usually brief, and are often called a warning or ‘aura’ (that a more significant seizure may develop) but are actually part of the seizure. Focal impaired awareness: awareness is affected (formerly known as a complex partial seizure) and the person may appear confused, vague or disorientated. A focal seizure may progress to a bilateral tonic-clonic seizure meaning that it starts in one area of the brain and then spreads to both sides causing muscle stiffening and jerking. Generalised onset means the seizure affects both hemispheres (sides) of the brain from the onset. Because of this, a person may lose cønsciøusness at the start of the seizure. Generalised onset seizures almost always affect awareness in some way, so the terms ‘aware’ or ‘impaired awareness’ aren’t used. However, they can be classified further by movement: Generalised motor seizure: may involve stiffening (tonic) and jerking (clonic), known as tonic-clonic (previously known as grand mal) or other movements Generalised non-motor seizure: These seizures involve brief changes in awareness, staring, and some may have automatic or repeated movements like lip-smacking. Types of Generalised Onset Seizures There are many types of seizures in this classification. They include: Absence – a sudden lapse in awareness and responsiveness that look like brief staring spells or daydreaming Tonic-Clonic – the body stiffens (the tonic phase) and then the limbs begin to jerk rhythmically (the clonic phase) Myoclonic – sudden single jerks of a muscle or a group of muscles that may last no more than a second or two Tonic – Can occur when a person is asleep or awake and involves a brief stiffening of the body, arms or legs. The person will suddenly fall if standing or sitting. Atonic – brief seizures that cause a sudden loss muscle tone and the person often falls to the ground or will have a sudden head nod if sitting. Clonic – although uncommon they cause jerking in various parts of the body Unknown onset means the seizure cannot be diagn0sed as either focal or generalised onset. Sometimes this classification is temporary and as more information becomes available over time or through further testing, the type of seizure may be changed to a generalised or focal onset seizure. Rarely, doctors might be sure that someone has had an epileptic seizure, but can’t decide what type of seizure it is. This could be because they don’t have enough information about the seizure, or the symptoms of the seizure are unusual. Most people will only have one or two seizure type(s), which may vary in severity. A person with severe or complex epilepsy or significant dàmage to the brain may experience a number of different seizure types. Can certain triggers set off a seizure?: Sometimes specific circumstances can increase the risk of having a seizure. These are usually called seizure triggers. Recognising these triggers can help to reduce or even avoid seizures. Some common triggers people report include lack of sleep, missed medication, fatigue, physical or emotional stress, hormonal changes and illness. What’s the best way to help someone having a tonic clonic (convulsive) seizure? 1. Stay with the person 2. Time the seizure 3. Keep them safe. Protect from ìnjury, especially the head 4. Roll into recovery position after the seizure stops (immediately if food/fluid/vomit is in møuth) 5. Observe and monitor their breathıng 6. Gently reassure until recovered 7. Call an ambulance if there is an ìnjury; if the seizure lasts for longer than five minutes; or if after the seizure ends the person is having breathıng difficulties or is non-responsive

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

March 19, 2014 An aura or warning is the first symptom of a seizure and is considered part of the seizure. Often the aura is an indescribable feeling. Other times it’s easy to recognize and may be a change in feeling, sensation, thought, or behavior that is similar each time a seizure occurs. The aura can also occur alone and may be called a focal onset aware seizure, simple partial seizure or partial seizure without change in awareness. An aura can occur before a change in awareness or consciousness. Yet, many people have no aura or warning; the seizure starts with a loss of consciousness or awareness. Common symptoms before a seizure: Awareness, Sensory, Emotional or Thought Changes: Déjà vu (a feeling that a person, place or thing is familiar, but you've never experienced it before) Jamais vu (feeling that a person, place or thing is new or unfamiliar, but it's not) Smells Sounds Tastes Visual loss or blurring “Strange” feelings Fear/panic (often negative or scary feelings) Pleasant feelings Racing thoughts Physical Changes: Dizzy or lightheaded Headache Nausea or other stomach feelings (often a rising feeling͞ from the stߋmach to the thr*at) Numbness or tingling in part of the body Middle: The middle of a seizure is often called the ictal phase. It’s the perıod of time from the first symptoms (including an aura) to the end of the seizure activity, This correlates with the electrical seizure activity in the brain. Sometimes the visible symptoms last longer than the seizure activity on an EEG. This is because some of the visible symptoms may be aftereffects. Common symptoms during a seizure. Awareness, Sensory, Emotional or Thought Changes: Loss of awareness/explicit memory (often called “black out”) Confused, feeling spacey Periods of forgetfulness or memory lapses Distracted, daydreaming Loss of cønsciøusness, unconscious, or “pass1ng out” Unable to hear Sounds may be strange or different Unusual smells (often bad smells like burning rubber) Unusual tastes Loss of vision or unable to see Blurry vision Flashing lights Formed visual hallvcin4tions (objects or things are seen that aren’t really there) Numbness, tingling, or electric shockıng like feeling in bødy, arm or leg Out of body sensations Feeling detached Déjà vu or jamais vu Body parts feels or looks different Feeling of paпic, feariпg, impending doom (intense feeling that something bad is going to happen) Physical Changes: Difficulty talking (may stop talking, make nonsense or garbled sounds, keep talking or speech may not make sense) Unable to swallow, drooling Repeated blinking of eyes, eyes may move to one side or look upward, or staring Lack of movement or muscle tone (unable to move, loss of tone in neck and head may drop forward, loss of muscle tone in body and person may slump or fall forward) Tremors, twitching or jerking movements (may occur on one or both sides of face, arms, legs or whole body; may start in one area then spread to other areas or stay in one place) Rigid or tense muscles (part of the body or whole body may feel very tight or tense and if standing, may fall “like a tree trunk”) Repeated non-purposeful movements, called automatisms, involve the face, arms or legs, such as lipsmacking or chewing movements repeated movements of hands, like wringing, playing with buttons or objects in hands, waving walking or running Repeated purposeful movements (person may continue activity that was going on before the seizure) Convulsion (person loses cønsciøusness, bødy becomes rigid or tense, then fast jerking movements occur) Ending: As the seizure ends, the postictal phase occurs - this is the recovery period after the seizure. Some people recover immediately while others may take minutes to hours to feel like their usual self. The type of seizure, as well as what part of the brain the seizure impacts, affects the recovery period – how long it may last and what may occur during it. Common symptoms after a seizure. Awareness, Sensory, Emotional, or Thought Changes: Slow to respond or not able to respond right away Sleepy Confused Memory loss Difficulty talking or writing Feeling fuzzy, light-headed/dizzy Feeling depressed, sad, upset Scared Anxious Frustrated/angry, embarrassed, ashamed Physical Changes: May have injuries, such as bruising, scrapes or worse if fell during seizure May feel tıred, exhausted, or sleep for minutes or hours Headaçhes or other paın Náuseas or upset stomach Thirsty General weàkness or weak in one part or sıde of the bødy

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

𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖳𝖮𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱 𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌 part 8 "Chip!" Karen's voice cuts through the air like a knife, her eyes wide with alarm. Chip, realizing his mistake, goes to hug his dad. "Sorry," he says, going up to Plankton, who puts his arm out to stop him. Sandy, oblivious to Plankton's overload, grabs his arm. "NO!" she yells, her voice sharp. "You do not push your son away like that!" Plankton flinches at her voice. He tries to pry his hand out of Sandy's, but her grip is firm. "Let me go," he says, his voice strained. But Sandy doesn't budge. "You listen to me, Plankton," she says, her eyes flashing. "You are not going to push aw-" But she's interrupted by another seizure, Plankton's body convulsing. Sandy's eyes go wide with fear, not knowing what to do. "What's happening?" she cries, finally letting go of his wrist. Karen's eyes flash with anger and desperation as she quickly moves to Plankton's side. She glares at Sandy. "It's a condition," she snaps. "And it's not for you to judge." Her voice is sharp, her frustration with Sandy's lack of understanding palpable. Sandy's eyes widen as she realizes her mistake, her hand flying to her mouth. "What," she murmurs. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-" But Karen's fury cuts her off. "You didn't mean to what?" she snaps. "To bombard Plankton with your yelling? To make him feel like he has to be touched?" Her eyes bore into Sandy, sizzling with accusation. "This is why we don't tell people," she says, her voice shaking. Sandy's eyes fill with remorse as she takes in the sight of Plankton's trembling form. "I didn't know," she whispers, her voice shaking with regret. "I'm sorry, Karen. I didn't mean to..." Her words trail off as she realizes the depth of her mistake. Karen's face is a mask of sadness and anger as she tends to Plankton, her eyes never leaving Sandy. "You didn't mean to what?" she says, each word cutting through the silence like a knife. "To make Plankton feel guilty for Chip's ignorance? He has autism, Sandy." Her voice is low, but it carries the weight of a thousand unspoken words. "This is why we don't tell people, Sandy. This is why." Sandy's face falls, her complexion paler than the white walls of the room. "Autism?" she repeats, her voice barely a whisper. She's heard of it, of course, but never considered that Plankton's quirks could be more than just quirks. She feels a pang of guilt for her insensitivity. Karen nods, her eyes brimming with tears. "Yes," she says, her voice thick with sadness. "He's been dealing with it his entire life. And we've worked so hard to make sure he's comfortable, to help him cope." She looks at Sandy, her gaze pleading. Her voice cracks as she says it, her heart breaking for her husband. Sandy's eyes fill with tears as she looks at her friend. "Karen," she whispers. "I'm so sorry." She takes a step back, realizing the harm she's caused. "I had no idea. I didn't mean to..." Her words trail off as she sees the pain etched on Karen's face. Karen's expression is a storm of emotions - anger, sadness, and a deep-seated frustration. "You didn't know," she says, her voice flat. "But now you do. And you see what it does to him." She nods towards Plankton, who's still shaking on the bed, his eye squeezed shut as he tries to fight off the seizure. Sandy's eyes fill with tears as she nods, her heart racing. Karen takes a deep breath, her gaze still on Plankton. "Just be there," she says, her voice tired. "Don't push him. Don't make him feel... less." Sandy nods again, her eyes fixed on Plankton as Karen continues to help him through the seizure. Her perception of him shifts, the layers of bravado and ambition stripped away to reveal the man beneath the madness. As the seizure subsides, Plankton opens his eye to find Sandy still hovering, looking at him with a mix of fear and regret. He feels exposed, his most private vulnerability laid bare before his wife's best friend. He takes a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. "I'm sorry," Sandy whispers, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I didn't know." Plankton's gaze remains on the floor, his body still trembling slightly. "It's not for you to know." Sandy feels the sting of his words, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and sadness. "I just wanted to help," she murmurs, her eyes filling with tears. But Plankton can't bear the weight of her pity, his own anger a shield. He turns away from her, his body rigid with tension. "Plankton," she says softly, her hand hovering in the space between them. "I'm here." But Plankton flinches at the touch, his body tightening. "No," he says, his voice firm. Sandy's eyes widen with hurt as she withdraws her hand. "But, I just wanted to-" "No," Plankton says, his voice firm. The seizure has passed, but his emotions are still raw, his body still shaking from the tremors. Karen's heart breaks as she sees the rejection on Sandy's face, but she understands Plankton's need for space. She steps in, placing a hand on Sandy's arm. "Let's give him some time," she whispers, her gaze never leaving Plankton's closed-off form. Sandy nods, her eyes brimming with tears as she backs away slowly, not wanting to cause any more stress.

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

𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖳𝖮𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱 𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌 part 18 Karen squeezed his hand, a silent reminder of her support. She knew that Hanna's apology was a step, but it wasn't enough to erase the damage done. She looked at Hanna, her gaze firm. "You have to understand that what you said was incredibly hurtful, not just to Plankton, but to me too. Our love isn't something to be bargained with or judged." Hanna nodded, her eyes now filled with genuine shame. "I understand, Karen," she said. "I'm sorry for the pain I've caused." Karen nodded back, her eyes never leaving Plankton's. "Good," she said simply. "Because Plankton is my everything." Plankton felt a warmth spread through him, despite the anger still simmering just below the surface. Karen had stood up for him, just like she always did. "Okay." Hanna reached out slowly, her hand hovering over Plankton's arm. He stiffened at the uninvited contact, his skin prickling with discomfort. "You okay, buddy?" she asked him, her voice tentative. Plankton felt a familiar tension in his chest, a tightness spreading through his body. The room seemed to close in on him, the lights too bright, the sounds too loud. Another seizure was approaching, and Karen noticed the change instantly. She knew the pain from wisdom teeth extraction and the touch from Hanna has been too much. Hanna watched as Plankton's body began to tense up, the signs of an impending seizure all too familiar to Karen. "What's happening? Plankton!" she asked, her voice filled with worry. But Karen was already in action, her movements quick and precise. She guided Hanna's hand away from Plankton, as Plankton's body began to convulse slightly, his eye rolling back. "Seizure," Karen murmured, as she knew the signs all too well. Hanna sat on the edge of his bed as Karen got his sensory box of fidget items. "Just stay calm," Karen said to Hanna. "This happens sometimes." Hanna's eyes were wide with fear, but she nodded. Plankton's seizure grew more intense, his limbs thrashing as his body tried to cope. "Let it in, let it wash over you." Karen says, grounding him slightly. The room grew quiet, except for the sound of his labored breathing. Hanna watched, her heart racing, feeling useless. Karen held out a plush toy, a green squishy star. "Look at the star, sweetie. Focus on the star. Look at the star, Plankton. Just the star." His body continued to convulse. Hanna watched, frozen as the plush star trembled in Karen's hand. "Look at the star, Plankton," Karen repeated, her voice calm and steady. "Find peace in the star." Plankton's eye flitted towards the toy, his breathing erratic. The sensory overload was intense, but he tried to follow Karen's guidance. As the seizure subsided, Plankton's tremors grew less intense, his gaze remaining fixed on the green star. He took deep breaths, trying to regain control of his body. Karen watched him, her own breathing matching his rhythm, willing him to find peace. Hanna sat there, her heart pounding in her chest, seeing the raw vulnerability of her friend's husband. She felt a deep sense of regret for her earlier words. "It's okay, baby," Karen whispered. She knew the aftermath was often a hard part for him, his body still reeling from the neurological storm, his sense of reality skewed. Plankton's eye focused slowly on the green star. As the seizure's grip weakened, he turned to it, his gaze hazy. "It's okay," Karen murmured. "You're okay now." His breathing grew steadier, but his mind was still semiconscious in confusion. The world around him was a blur of color and sound, his thoughts tangled and disjointed. "Plankton?" Hanna's voice was tentative. Plankton barely registered her words, semiconscious. He turned to her, his gaze hazy and his movements awkward. "Hi, Hans," he mumbled, his voice slurred. Karen exchanged a knowing look with Hanna. "Hi, Plankton," she said, her tone gentle. Plankton giggled to himself, his laughter sounding distant and slightly off-key. Karen smiled softly, recognizing his postictal loopiness. It was a common reaction for him from a seizure, his brain trying to find its bearings. He stared at the green star in his hand, his fingers playing with its soft fabric. "It's so... fluffy," he said, his voice full of wonder. Karen couldn't help but smile at his childlike fascination. "It's okay, Plankton," she said, her voice soothing. "Just keep focusing on the sta-" "Star," he interrupts, his laughter bubbling up again. "Fluffy star." Karen's smile grew wider despite the situation. "It's okay, Plankton," she reassured, her voice calm. "Just keep playing with it." Hanna watched, her heart in her throat. "Is he... is he okay?" she asked, uncertain of what she was seeing. "Want... want more is," Plankton said, his words slurred. Karen nodded, her expression filled with love. "He's okay, Hanna," she said. "It's just part of his recovery from a seizure." Hanna looked on, still struggling to comprehend the complexities of Plankton's condition. "After a seizure, he can act a bit... different, sometimes. He probably won't remember what happened," Karen explained, her voice calm and reassuring. "You can talk to him, just keep it simple and don't touch him without asking." Hanna nodded, feeling like an outsider in this world of understanding and care that Karen and Plankton shared. "Hey Plankton," she said, her voice gentle. "You okay?" Plankton looked at her, his eye glazed over. "Fluffy star," he replied, his voice still slurred and playful. Hanna managed a smile, though it was tinged with sadness at the thought of her earlier cruelty. "Hanna," he said, his voice still off. "She smell like... like bubblegum?" Hanna's eyes widened. "Plankton, it's me, it's just your imagination playing tricks on you after the se-" But Karen held up a hand to stop her. "We don't want to overwhelm his senses right now," she explained. "Let him come back to us in his own time." Hanna nodded. "You like the star, don't you?" Karen asked, her voice soothing. Plankton nodded, his giggles subsiding into a soft chuckle. "It's so fluffy," he murmured, his fingers tracing the star's outline. Hanna watched the tender interaction, her heart heavy with regret. "You know, Plankton," Hanna ventured, her voice shaky. "I didn't mean to hurt you." He looked at her, his gaze unsteady. "You, hurt," he said, his words slow and deliberate. His finger traced the plush star's fabric, his mind still in a haze. Karen's heart broke for him, but she knew he needed to hear it from Hanna. "I know, Plankton," Hanna whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. "I'm so, so sorry." Plankton's gaze remained on the star, his finger tracing its fluffy outline. "Fluffy," he murmured, his voice a gentle echo of his usual self. "You like it?" she asked, her voice gentle. "Fluffy," he repeated, not really hearing her. The room was still, the air thick with the weight of their recent exchange. Hanna's eyes were glued to Plankton, his post-seizure state both fascinating and alarming her. "I'm sorry," she whispered again. Plankton's giggle was sudden, his gaze shifting from the star to Hanna. "Hans smell funny," he said, his words still slurred. Hanna swallowed her sadness, forcing a smile. "It's because I ate a whole pack of bubblegum," she lied. His eyes lit up, his innocence shining through. "Want bubblegum?" he asked, his voice filled with childish excitement. Hanna felt a wave of guilt wash over her. "No, Plankton, I'm okay," she said gently. "But you keep playing with your fluffy star." Karen watched as Hanna interacted with Plankton, his mind still in the same post-seizure state. It was both heartbreaking and a tiny bit amusing to see. "What's your name?" Plankton asked, his speech still slurred. Hanna's smile was sad. "It's Hanna, Plankton," she said, trying to keep the conversation light. "Oh, Hanna Plankton. You're a pretty name," he said, his voice filled with the same wonder. "Thank you," Hanna said, fighting back tears. She felt like a monster for the way she'd treated him. Plankton's laughter filled the room again, his body still slightly twitching from the seizure. "You smell pretty, Hanna Plankton," he said, his words still slurred. Hanna's heart clenched at the innocence behind his words, knowing how much pain she'd caused him. "Thank you, Plankton," she managed, her voice thick. Plankton's gaze drifted to her, in a way that Karen knew meant that his mind's slowly clearing back to himself, his expression becoming more aware, his eye focusing slightly as he took in his surroundings.

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

𝖡𝖱𝖠𝖨𝖭 𝖢𝖧𝖨𝖯 𝗉𝗍. 9 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖤𝖴𝖱𝖮𝖥𝖠𝖡𝖴𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖲) Chip's gaze went to his dad, his confusion morphing into concern. "What's wrong?" Plankton's eye darted to Chip. "Wh-what do you mean?" he stuttered, his defensiveness a clear sign of his internal turmoil. "Why do you think anything's wrong?" He says to Chip. Chip looked at him, his eyes filled with innocence. "You just...you're acting di-" "I'm not!" Plankton snapped, his voice echoing in the quiet room. He felt the weight of his fidget toy in his hand. "I'm fine!" he insisted, his antennae twitching with agitation. Chip took a step back, his eyes wide with surprise. "Dad?" he asked, his voice trembling. Karen's broke at the sight of her son's confusion. "It's ok," she tried to say, but Plankton's anger was palpable. "I'm not acting any way!" Plankton's voice grew louder, his eye darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "Don't patronize me!" His antennae shook with the intensity of his emotions, and Karen could see the fear and frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. Chip took another step back, his eyes wide with shock. "But you always give me hugs," he said, his voice small. "What happened?" Plankton's face contorted with frustration. "I don't know," he said, his voice rising. "I just can't... I can't handle it right now, ok?" He threw the fidget toy across the room, the plastic smacking against the wall. "Leave me alone!" Chip's eyes filled with tears, his voice shaking. "But, Dad, I missed yo-" "I said leave me alone!" Plankton's voice boomed, the stress of the past week exploding out of him. His body was a coiled spring, ready to snap. Karen's chest ached as she watched the scene unfold, torn between her love for Plankton and her need to comfort their son. "It's okay," she murmured, stepping towards them. "Let's all just take a moment." Chip's screen searched hers, his expression a mix of hurt and confusion. "But, Dad, I just-" "I said leave me alone!" Plankton's voice was a thunderclap, cutting off Chip's words. His body was rigid, his antennae quivering with agitation. Karen felt his pain, knew his fear of being exposed, of being seen as lesser than before. She took a step towards him, her hand outstretched. "Plankton, please," she whispered. But Chip didn't get it. "Dad?" Chip's voice was trembling, his eyes brimming with tears. "What's happening?" He looked so lost, so small in that moment. Plankton's chest heaved with heavy breaths, his eye avoiding Chip's gaze. "It's...it's nothing," Plankton stuttered, trying to control his voice. He knew his behavior was erratic, but the fear of being discovered was too great. Chip looked at him, his expression a blend of confusion and hurt. "But you're not fine," he said, his voice shaking. "You're acting..." Plankton's anger grew, his eye flashing. "I'm fine!" he insisted, his voice a whisper-shout. "Don't tell me what I'm feeling!" He couldn't bear the thought of his son seeing him as broken, as someone to pity. Chip's lip trembled, his eyes filling with tears. "But you're not acting like yourself," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. Karen's ached for both of them. Plankton's face grew tight, his body coiled with tension. "What do you know?" he snapped. "You're just a ki—" "What do you mean I don't know?" Chip's voice grew louder. "I live with you, I know you better than anyone else! And you're just making excuses for acting like this!" His screen flushed with emotion, and his fists were clenched tightly at his sides. "So don't call me a kid when you're the one throwing a fit like one!" Plankton's eye widened, his anger a stark contrast to the calmness he'd been trying to maintain. "How dare you!" he snapped. "Yo--" Chip's voice grew stronger, cutting through Plankton's words. "How dare I? You're the one shouting!" Chip's voice trembled, his own frustration and fear bubbling to the surface. "I don't know what's happening to you, but me and Mom are both pretty much sick of you and your precious little temper tantrums! So you can either decide to tell us what's going on or keep acting like this," Chip's voice broke, as Plankton sat down with ringing in his ears, "but I'm not gonna keep pretending like we care about yo-" But before Chip could finish his sentence, Plankton's body stiffened, his eye glazed over. "Plankton?" Karen asked. But there was no response. Chip felt fear. "Dad?" he whispered, reaching out tentatively. Karen recognized the signs of Plankton's overwhelm. "Chip, step back," she said, her voice calm yet firm. As Plankton's body stiffened, Chip's eyes were wide with terror, his hand hovering in the air, unsure of how to help. "It's ok," Karen whispered, her voice a steady beacon in the storm of Plankton's seizure. "Just wa- Chip, no, it's ok," Karen says, her voice soothing as she tries to keep the situation calm. She knew from the other day's experience that Plankton might not remember this, that he was somewhere else in his mind, disconnected from the world around him. Karen remained composed, ready to catch him if he fell. Chip watched, his own fear mirroring the scene before him. "D-dad?" he stuttered, his voice shaking. Chip's eyes were on his father, his young mind trying to understand. Plankton's body remained rigid, his eye vacant. The room was a tableau of tension, the silence deafening. Karen knew this moment all too well now, the moment when Plankton slipped into dizzy/lightheaded daze, leaving them behind. She took a deep breath, willing her nerves to calm, her hand reaching for Chip's to guide him away from his dad. Chip's eyes were glued to his father, a silent tear tracking down his screen. Karen wrapped her arm around him, pulling him gently to the side. "It's ok," she murmured, her voice a balm. "Dad's just... he's just having a moment." They watched as Plankton's body went slack, his hand dropping the fidget toy. Chip's gaze followed it as it bounced off the floor, the plastic clattering against the wood. "What's happening?" he asked, his voice a whisper. "It's ok," Karen said, squeezing Chip's hand tightly. "Dad's having a moment." She guided Chip to the couch. "Just wait here." With gentle but firm steps, Karen approached Plankton, his body still frozen in the grip of the seizure. She knew not to move him, not to shake him out of it. Instead, she talked to him in a calm, soothing voice, keeping the room's energy low. "You're safe," she murmured. "We're right here." But Chip is to curious. Chip's gaze remained fixed on Plankton, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. "Is he ok?" he whispered, his voice trembling. Karen's went out to him, knowing this was the first time he'd seen his father like this. "It's called an absence seizure," Karen explained, sitting beside Chip. "It's like his brain takes a little break." Her voice was calm, trying to reassure her son. "It's part of his, h-his life now." Chip stared at his dad, his chest tight with fear. "Is he gonna be ok?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. Karen nodded, her eyes never leaving Plankton. "Yes," she said. "But it's important we stay calm." "Mom what's..." "It's because of an accident," she said, her voice gentle. Chip's eyes widened with horror. "An accident? What happened?" he asked, his voice a whisper. Karen took a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation she'd been dreading. "Dad had a fall," she said, her gaze firmly on Plankton. "It hurt his brain." Chip's gaze went back to his father, his expression a mix of shock and sadness. "Will he get better?" Karen's eyes filled with tears as she looked at her son, his innocence a stark contrast to the harsh reality they faced. "It's... different," she said, swiping at her screen. "It's not like a bruise that will heal. But we can help him, we can learn to live with it." Chip nodded, his grip on her hand tightening. "How?" he asked, his voice small. "So is he..." "He's still your dad," Karen whispered, her eyes never leaving Plankton's still form. "But now, we just have to love him a little differently. I'll let him tell you more when he's ready." Chip's screen searched hers, his thoughts racing. "Ok," he managed, his voice thick with uncertainty. Plankton's seizure ended nearly abruptly as it had begun. He blinked, his gaze returning to the room gradually. His hand searched for the fidget toy, his hand reaching out instinctively. Karen picked it up from the floor, handing it to him. "You're ok," she said, her voice soothing.

𝖳𝖮 𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖫𝖣 pt. 11 Sequel to Autism And All by NeuroFabulous https://emojicombos.com/autism-and-all Read the Autism And All one first! The room feels like it's shrunk, the air thick with unspoken words. Chip's chest tightens, his eyes stinging. He'd never wanted to make his dad feel like this. Timmy looks at him, his expression full of sympathy. "It's okay," he says, his voice soothing. "He's just scared." They sit in silence for a while, the only sound the steady ticking of the clock on the mantel. Chip's mind is racing, trying to piece together what went wrong. How could something that brought Timmy so much joy cause so much pain for his dad? Timmy breaks the silence, his voice soft. "Sometimes, it's hard for people to accept help," he says. "Especially when it feels like you're trying to change them." He looks at Chip, his eyes understanding. "But you can't make anyone feel something they're not ready to." Chip nods, feeling a lump form in his throat. "But what do we do now?" He asks, desperation lacing his voice. Timmy shrugs. "Let's go apologize.." They find Plankton sitting on his bed in the bedroom. Chip's heart raced as they approached. "Dad," he starts, his voice shaking. "Timmy and I, we just want to say we're sorry." Plankton looks up, his eye twitching slightly. "You can't fix me." Timmy nods as Karen comes in. "But we can still be there for you," he says, his voice earnest. "And maybe, we can learn together." Plankton's gaze meets Timmy's, his expression unreadable. But before anyone can say another word, Plankton's body shifts. Suddenly, his eye glazed over, and he starts to rock back and forth, his hands flapping rapidly. "Dad?" Chip asks, his voice filled with fear; but Karen understands. "It's okay," Karen says. "It's one of his seizures." Timmy's eyes widen, his hands stilling in mid-air. "What's happening?" He asks. Karen explains in a calm, steady voice. "It's called a non-motor seizure. Sometimes it's just his brain doing its own thing. We have to be quiet and let it pass. This isn't the first time." Chip watches as Plankton's body rocks back and forth, his eye unfocused. He feels a rush of fear and helplessness. This is his dad, his hero, reduced to this by something he can't control. Timmy nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton. Karen quickly moves to Plankton's side. "Remember, Chip," she whispers, her voice calm. "Just let it run its course. It's like a storm passing through." Chip nods, his eyes glued to his dad's trembling form. Timmy sits silently beside them, his hands still in his lap as Plankton's seizure unfolds. His rocking becomes more pronounced, his breathing shallow and rapid. Karen holds his hand, her expression a mask of concern. "It's okay, sweetie," she murmurs. "You're sa-" But Plankton's body jolts, his eye rolling back in his head. Chip watches his dad's autistic behavior take over in a way he's never seen before. Timmy's eyes are wide with shock. "Is he okay?" He whispers to Karen. She nods. "It'll be over soon," she promises. "It's just part of his autism." The minutes drag on, each second feeling like an eternity. Plankton's seizure subsides, his body finally still. His breathing evens out, and the color starts to return to his cheeks. Chip feels a weight lift from his chest. "It's over," Karen whispers, her hand still gripping Plankton's. Timmy looks at Chip, his eyes full of unspoken questions. Plankton slowly opens his eye. Timmy's eyes are full of concern. "Are you okay, Mr. Plankton?" But Plankton doesn't answer. He's staring at something on the wall, something only he can see. His hand reaches out, flapping slightly, as if trying to grab onto an invisible thought. But Karen's been through this before. She knows what to do. She whispers to Timmy, "It's okay. This is just his brain's way of handling too much input." Timmy nods, his eyes glued to Plankton. As Plankton's body slowly relaxes, his voice starts, a string of words that don't quite make sense. "The... the...the...spoons," Plankton says, his voice distant. Chip and Timmy exchange confused glances. Karen squeezes Plankton's hand. "It's okay, baby," she whispers. "You're okay." Plankton's eye moved around the room, his hands flapping slightly. "The... the...the...spoons," he repeats. Karen's face relaxes into understanding. "Echolalia," she whispers to Chip and Timmy. "It's a way his brain reboots after a seizure." Timmy nods, his gaze still on Plankton. "I know about that," he says. "It's like my brain's playing back a tape of everything that's happened, trying to make sense of it." Plankton's voice gradually gains clarity. "The spoons...they...they're..." Chip watches, his heart in his throat, as his dad's hand still flutters in the air, his eye unfocused. "It's a sensory thing," Karen says, keeping her voice low. "Sometimes, his brain gets overwhelmed." Plankton's voice grows stronger, the words more random. "The...the...did," he says, his hand moving in patterns that seem to have a rhythm only he can understand. "They were...were...were..." Karen's eyes never leave Plankton's, her gaze full of patience and love. "Just breathe, baby," she says, her voice soothing. "Take your time.." Timmy watches, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "What's he saying?" He whispers. "It's okay," Karen reassures both Timmy and Chip. "It's just his brain trying to find it's bearings. Just let him find his way back." Plankton's words become more nonsensical, his hand still moving through the air as his voice cracks. "They...they were...were..." His eye flickers, and he swallows hard. "They were always...always..." Timmy's eyes never leave Plankton's, his gaze filled with understanding and compassion. He's been here before, in his own way. His hands start to move slightly again, as if he's trying to connect with Plankton's thoughts. "It's okay," he whispers. "You don't have to push." But Plankton's voice doesn't listen. "They were always...always... were...were...pats," he says, his hand moving in a pattern that makes no sense to him. Chip feels his heart break for his dad. This isn't the first time he's seen a seizure, but every time, it's like watching a piece of Plankton get taken away, leaving behind a man who's lost in his own world. Timmy, though, seems to understand. He reaches out his own hand, mirroring Plankton's movements. "It's okay," he says again. "We're here for yo-" But Plankton isn't listening. "They were always...were...pats," he repeats, his voice getting louder. "They were always pats!" He starts to chuckle. "Pats, pats, pats!" His hand hits the bed. Karen smiles sadly. "Plankton, I see you," she says, her voice a whisper. "You'll come back to us." Chip watches, his heart racing. Timmy's eyes are wide with understanding. He's seen this before in himself. "It's okay," he says, his voice calm. "You can come back whenever you're ready." Plankton's hand still flaps. "I'm here, Mr. Plankton," Timmy says. "You're not al—" But Plankton's voice rose in pitch. "The...tck...tck..." He's ticcing now, Chip realized. Each syllable punctuated with a sharp, staccato twitch of his face. "Tck...tck...tck..." Karen's grip on Plankton's hand tightens slightly, her eyes full of love and understanding. "You're okay," she murmurs, her voice steady. "Just let it out. It's okay." Karen turns to them. "This helps him," she whispers. "It's like...like releasing pressure." Timmy nods, his own hands still in his lap. "I get tics too," he says, his voice barely audible. "But not like that." He looks at Chip. "Sometimes it's ju—" But then, with a blink, Plankton comes back to himself. He looks around the room, confused. "What...what happened?" He asks, his voice slurred. Karen smiles gently. "You had a seizure, sweetie," she says. "But you're okay now."

https://www.verywellhealth.com/seizure-phases-4797974

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

𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖳𝖮𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱 𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌 part 4 Chip looked down at the octopus in his lap, his eyes filling with tears. "I didn't know," he whispered. "I just didn't understand." Karen took a deep breath, trying to calm her own shaking voice. "You need to understand, Chip. That word is not okay," she said, her tone steady. "It's hurtful and disrespectful. Your father is not 'that'. He's autistic. And autistic is just a part of who he is." Chip looked up at her, his expression one of shock and dawning realization. "But why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice small. "Why did you keep it a secret?" Karen took a moment to compose herself, her own tears threatening to spill over. "We didn't keep it a secret just to hide it," she explained, her voice trembling. "We kept it private because it's your father's story to tell, not ours. And because we didn't want you to think of him any differently. But we should have talked to you, yes. We should have helped you understand." Chip nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the octopus in his hand. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to make hi-" "Don't," Karen said, cutting him off. "Your apology can wait. Right now, you need to understand why that word is wrong." She took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice steady. "It's not just a label, Chip. It's a way people have used to put others down. To make them feel less than." Her voice was firm, her eyes never leaving his. "Your father has felt that way enough times already; he doesn't need it from his own son!" Chip nodded, the weight of her words sinking in. He hadn't realized the impact of his ignorance. "What can I do to make it right?" he asked, his voice cracking. Karen took a deep breath. "First, you need to educate yourself," she said gently. "Learn your dad's specific needs. Talk to him. Hear his story. Understand what it's like for him." Chip nodded, his gaze firm. "Okay," he said, his voice still shaky. "I'll do that." Karen goes back to the bedroom to find Plankton sitting on the edge of the bed, his body wracked with sobs. His hand was moving in a repetitive motion, tracing the edge of the bedspread, a silent testament to his pain. Her heart breaking, she sat beside him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "It's okay, love," she soothed, her voice gentle. "It's okay to cry." Plankton's sobs grew louder, his body shaking. But amidst the tears, a steady sound emerged. It was the soft, rhythmic humming he often did when he was overwhelmed or even just restless. It was his way of self- soothing, his brain's attempt to find order in the chaos. Karen had learned to recognize this sound over the years. She held his hand, her thumb rubbing small circles in his palm. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice a balm to his raging emotions. "I'm here." Plankton's humming grew softer, his body slowly still. The anger drained from him, leaving behind only sadness. "Chip," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "He said the word." It was a private stim, one Karen knew meant Plankton was trying to process the pain. He spoke to himself often during these moments, his thoughts running in a loop as he tried to find comfort in his own company as he rocked back and forth. "But why?" Plankton whispered, his eye glazed over as he felt the familiar rhythm of his stim kick in. "Why would Chip, Chip did?" He stared at his own hand. "I'm not that. I'm not." Karen's heart ached at the pain in his voice. She knew this was his way of trying to make sense of the world. "You're not, love," she assured him. "You're just different. And that's okay." Chip goes into his parents bedroom and goes up to Plankton slowly, the octopus in his hand. "Dad," he whispers, his voice tentative. Plankton looks up, his eye red and swollen from crying. "I'm sorry," Chip says, holding out the octopus. "Can we ta—" But Plankton doesn't give him a chance to finish. "I don't want your apology," he says coldly. He turns his body away from Chip. Karen's eyes dart between the two of them, her heart racing with fear of the growing rift. "Plankton," she starts, but he shakes his head. "Please," Chip says, his voice breaking. "I didn't know." He takes another step forward, his hand outstretched. "Let me help you," he says, putting his hand on his dad's shoulder to turn him around. But Plankton flinches at the touch, his sensory overload already at peak. Karen's eyes widen as she recognizes the signs of another seizure coming on. "No," she says. "Not now." But it's too late. Plankton's eye rolls back. Chip backs away, his heart racing. This was his fault. If he hadn't upset him, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Karen moves swiftly, placing the bear in his trembling hand. The room goes quiet as the seizure takes hold, the only sounds Plankton's whimpers. Chip watches. He wants to help, but doesn't know how. Karen moves quickly, guiding the bear into Plankton's hand. "Now Chip," she says, her voice steady. "When your dad comes back, he may not immediately remember. He might talk funny or seem confused. It just means he needs some time to get his thoughts back." Chip nods, his eyes never leaving his father's trembling form as the shaking slows. Drool trickled down the corner of Plankton's mouth as he began to mumble. "Wha-wha-wha," Plankton phrased, trying to piece together the shattered thoughts. It was like his brain had gone back to the beginning, relearning how to speak, to process the world around him. It was both heartbreaking and strangely endearing. "Bear," he mumbled, his fingers fidgeting with the plush toy. "Bear...good." He giggled, a high-pitched sound that seemed out of place coming from him. "Bear is...bear." His speech was a jumble of words. Karen watched with a mix of amusement and sadness. This was a part of Plankton's recovery she had seen before, his brain trying to find its footing again. It was like a toddler learning to talk, except it was her husband. She turned to Chip. "Try talking to him," she urged. "Keep it simple and calm."

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