Stimcore Emojis & Text

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. 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."

🛸 🎠 🐎 | 🎥 🏇 🎥 | 🐎 🎠 🛸

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.

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."

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. 14 by NeuroFabulous Chip feels the sting of his father's words, but he doesn't let the hurt show. "But I want to," he says, his voice firm. "I'll do anyth—" But Plankton's patience is thin. "You can't just decide to understand me!" he says, his voice rising. "It's not that simple!" Chip's eyes fill with determination. "But I'm trying," he says, his voice steady. "I'm really trying, Dad." But Plankton's frustration has reached a boiling point. "You're not trying enough!" he snaps. Karen's eyes are filled with concern as she watches her husband's distress. She knows his stims are his way of keeping the world at bay, and Chip's attempt to share in them has only made things worse. "Plankton," she says gently. "Let's take a step back." Plankton turns to her. "What do you mean?" he asks. "Chip's trying," she says, her voice calm. "But he's still learning. Why don't you explain to him? Tell him." Plankton's antennae droop, his shoulders slumping. He takes a deep breath, his hands stilling. "It's just... these are mine," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "These movements, these sounds, they're not for anyone else." Chip nods, his eyes still on his dad. "I know," he says. "But I just wanted to be a part of yo--" "NO," Plankton says, his voice sharp. "You can't!" He throws his sensory box across the room, the items scattering everywhere. Chip's eyes widen in shock. He's never seen his dad so upset. "Dad," he says, his voice shaking. "What's wrong?" Plankton turns to him, his face a mask of frustration. "You," he says, his voice tight. "You're what's wrong." Chip's eyes are wide, his heart racing. "Me?" he stammers. "What did I-" But Plankton's not listening. "You're always poking and prodding," he says, his voice rising. "Always asking questions. Always wanting to be a part of something that's not for you!" Chip feels his heart drop. "But Dad," he whispers, his voice filled with pain. "I just want to be there for you; I'm your son." Plankton turns away. "It's not your place," he says. "This isn't for you to be a part of, it's not your place to—" But Chip's voice cuts through the tension. "But Dad," he says, his voice trembling with emotion. "It's my place to love you and support you. And if I don't know how to do that, I want to learn." Karen has cleaned up the sensory box, putting it back. She knows that Chip wants to reach out, but he's not sure if his dad is ready. Plankton's breathing has steadied, but he's still upset. Chip sits there, his hands in his lap, unsure of what to do next. "Dad," Chip says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry." Plankton's antennae twitch, his body still tense. "Not funny, not funny at all. No one said to somebody." He says to himself as a stim. Chip watches, his heart heavy. He didn't mean to make his dad upset, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him again. "I just wanted to share your world," he says, his voice small. "But I'm sorry if I made it worse." Plankton's antennae droop, his shoulders slumping. "It's not about sharing, Chip," he murmurs. "It's about respecting my boundaries." Chip nods, his eyes on the floor. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice filled with regret. "I didn't mean to disrespect you." Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye flickering to Chip and then away before he began to stim again. "La da du, bom ha-" "Dad," Chip interrupts once again, "I'm sorry.." But Plankton's antennae twitch, cutting him off. "Don't," he says, his voice tight. "Just don't." He resumes his stim. "Ibo de, mana teh, nomi gli ba–" Chip's heart squeezes. "Dad, please," he says, his voice desperate. "I-" But Plankton's antennae spike, his voice cutting through. "I said DON'T!" Chip's eyes water, his voice shaking. "But Dad, I'm just trying to connect!" But Plankton's antennae flicker in agitation, his voice sharp. "Connections don't work that way!" He turns back to Chip, his eye blazing. Karen knew she needed to intervene again. "Chip," she says, her voice steady. "Why don't you let your dad calm dow—" But Chip's eyes are filled with determination. "No, Mom," he says. "I want to help him now." He reaches out to Plankton, his hand hovering over his dad's arm. "Dad," he says, his voice soft. "Let me help yo-" But Plankton's reaction is swift and severe. He jerks his arm away, his antennae quivering with agitation. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" he yells, his body rigid with tension. Chip recoils, his eyes wide with shock and fear. Plankton's meltdown is fierce, his movements erratic and jerky. He slams his hands on the bed, his eye closed tight. "I TOLD YOU!" he yells. "DON'T DO THIS!" Chip feels his dad's pain like a physical blow, his eyes wide with shock. He takes a step back, his hands up in a gesture of non-threatening submission. "Dad," he whispers, his voice shaking. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." But Plankton's meltdown continues, his body trembling with the force of his emotions. He throws a pillow to the wall, growling as Karen watches with sorrow. She knows Plankton's limits have been pushed too far. "Dad," Chip says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please, just let me help." But Plankton's in the throes of a meltdown, his stims now replaced with furious movements. He knocks over another pillow. Chip's heart races, his instinct to comfort warring with his fear of making things worse. Karen steps in, placing a hand on Chip's shoulder. "Let me handle this," she says, her voice steady. Chip nods, his eyes never leaving his dad. Plankton's breath comes in quick, ragged gasps. Karen approaches slowly, her body language calm. "Plankton," she says, her voice gentle. "You're safe, you're loved." She doesn't touch him yet, knowing his senses are on high alert. "You can come back now, sweetie." But Plankton's in a world of his own, his body moving in a dance of frustration and anger. Karen's eyes are filled with compassion as she slowly moves closer. "You're safe," she repeats. "You're loved." She reaches out, her hand hovering just above his arm, giving him the option to pull away. For a moment, Plankton's body stills, his antennae quivering with the effort to hear her. And then, with a sudden, explosive movement, he throws himself into her arms, his body convulsing with sobs. Karen holds him tightly, her grip firm but gentle, rocking him back and forth the way he likes it. "It's ok," she murmurs. "It's ok, you're safe." Chip watches, his eyes wide with worry and confusion. He's never seen his dad like this, so raw and unguarded. Plankton's sobs echo in the room, his body trembling against Karen's chest. She holds him, her heart breaking for the man she loves, the man who often has to navigate a world that doesn't quite fit him. Her hand moves in a gentle pattern on his back, a silent reassurance that she's there. Chip watches from the sidelines, feeling utterly helpless. He's never seen his dad so out of control, so overwhelmed by his own feelings. The sight of Plankton in such distress is a stark reminder of the challenges his father faces every day.

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.

²

👤≠👥

🌉⏰

🌊⏰

⚪️✨💎

⏰🌗➕💼

💪➕🧑‍🏫

⚪⚛️🔬

❤️🇵🇹

🪙✨⚪️

♿➡️🚶➕⚕️

💍💎✨

🥈🤏🇪🇸

🛡️🚗💨🔬

👑🪙⚪

☀️🌲🎬⏰

🥈⚪✨

💍Pt

UTC-8/UTC-7⏰

⬅️⏰

🇵🇹

✍️🥀⚰️

🇺🇸💪🧑‍🎓

🍺Pt

🏕️🏃‍♂️🎯🌲

👑⛓️💲

7️⃣8️⃣⚛️

💻🌧️💔

AuAgPt✨

🥈✨💎

🎲②📉👍

✌️⏰

🎲🔄②

⛓️💧💧💧

🗓️Sep2

🎲↯②

⚫️⚪️🎲②

🕑

✌️

🎲

1️⃣➕1️⃣

🔢✌️

2️⃣

✌️②

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠌⣻⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⢀⡝⠀⠘⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣘⠀⠞⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡄⡠⠤⠢⠤⠭⠥⢷⠩⠐⢊⠀⠀⠀⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⡃⢡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡱⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠠⣄⠀⠀⢢⢰⠀⡌⠂⣐⣤⣴⣶⣤⣦⣦⣤⣴⣀⣀⠄⠠⢀⠀⡠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡀⠀⠰⡀⢫⡄⠹⣴⣾⣾⣾⡬⠿⠛⠛⠟⠛⠻⢛⠿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⣿⣯⣅⣼⣷⣋⡄⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠁⠺⣳⠂⡟⣗⠫⢐⣝⠉⡈⠁⠦⡀⢁⠠⠖⠀⠉⡂⠉⢀⢀⠐⢆⢵⠠⡁⡩⠙⠙⠻⢾⣾⡷⠋⡔⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠉⢢⣌⣿⣿⣦⣽⠿⠀⠔⡀⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠐⡀⠎⠡⠀⠈⠀⠈⠁⠀⡰⡎⠀⢀⠡⢀⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠐⢠⣖⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢋⠠⣠⡖⠉⠀⢄⣤⣀⣐⠀⠀⠠⠈⠀⠐⠈⠄⠠⠀⠀⣀⣦⣀⠀⢀⡍⣘⢲⡎⡐⣪⠒⡀⡁⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣄⣠⣠⣬⡽⣞⣿⣿⣿⡿⡃⢈⠀⡏⠁⠀⠀⣼⡿⣿⡏⠄⠀⢐⠀⠐⠀⡂⠂⠀⡰⠀⠙⣿⣯⣲⡌⠁⠻⣈⣷⢅⡻⣶⣷⡅⠁⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠿⠿⠛⠓⠣⢲⣾⣿⡿⠉⡡⡴⡊⢀⣄⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢅⣮⠶⡁⠀⠀⠀⣆⠠⢦⣰⣲⣿⣿⣿⣣⣄⣄⡘⢳⣍⣿⣟⣿⣷⣵⡉⠠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣲⣾⣿⣿⡣⢴⠌⣼⢲⠟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠈⢙⡿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣾⢗⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣍⡑⢄⠈⠂⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠀⢨⢿⣿⣿⠏⠪⡺⢟⡃⠀⠀⠉⢉⠝⢫⠎⠻⠣⠉⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢾⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⠿⠛⢿⣽⣿⣿⣯⣿⣭⡶⣷⣿⣦⣵⡀⠀ ⠀⣀⣠⣠⣾⣿⢿⠟⠅⢀⠕⠛⠐⠀⢀⠀⠀⡀⢈⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠈⠀⠀⠠⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⡕⢂⣁⣨⣽⣷⠦ ⠀⡪⣭⣿⣿⢵⡓⢤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠵⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠢⠀⡀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⢀⣤⢓⠊⡳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠝⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⣻⢟⣿⢻⡿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠌⠄⠠⣌⠈⢀⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠁⠔⡸⡙⠋⣽⣿⣿⣟⠗⠫⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⠚⠐⠠⠄⠌⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠄⠠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣤⣴⣶⣦⣤⣤⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡁⡀⠀⠀⢐⠐⠑⡹⣿⡛⣿⢿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠮⣿⣶⣶⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣟⣿⡿⢛⠽⣛⡝⢫⢿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠂⡔⠀⠁⠀⠁⠑⠠⠁⠩⣟⣶⢆⠀⠀ ⡼⠃⢼⣿⠿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠈⠈⠢⣄⠉⠂⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣧⣾⣷⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⢸⠎⡶⠿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠡⢉⠐⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠘⠦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠈⠈⠀⠄⠄⠀⠀⡀⣀⠀⠀⣄⠀⠈⠢⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠂⢠⢠⠀⣾⠑⢐⣀⣼⢟⢞⠈⣿⣋⡡⠆⡀⠀⠄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡩⡄⠀⢈⢞⣷⡁⣰⣿⣭⣿⣍⣾⠗⣮⣋⣦⡀⠙⠿⠋ ⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⡀⠤⠠⡻⣻⣿⣿⢿⡟⣿⢿⣿⡛⡤⣀⡸⣿⣿⣿⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣸⢼⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⢀ ⠀⠀⢈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⡀⠀⠀⢀⢠⠀⠘⣷⣿⣾⣾⣿⣼⣿⣼⣷⣾⣿⣿⣾⣾⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣉⡙⣿⡿⠿⣫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠯⠄ ⠀⢀⢁⡀⣠⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠠⡠⠚⣶⣇⣡⡈⣈⡧⠂⢻⣿⣷⣿⣾⣯⣏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠟⠋⠋⢉⢁⡈⡉⢈⠓⠘⠛⠉⠘⠁⢀⡐⢀⣀⡀⠀ ⠀⡀⠠⣤⠟⡇⠀⠀⠰⣿⢻⣯⣵⣾⣷⣿⣷⣈⢻⣾⣶⢉⣝⢛⣻⠿⣿⡿⡟⣛⠉⣉⣁⣀⢀⢀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀ ⡾⡟⢀⣬⡞⠀⢠⣦⣶⣾⣄⣽⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⡿⣿⣿⡿⣿⢿⣿⡿⣯⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣽ ⣷⢿⣾⣿⣿⣥⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣽⡻⣟⣯⢷⣻⡷⣯⢿⣯⣾⣽⣳⣯⣟⣳⢯⣿⣹⢯⣷⣻⡿⣽⣟⣷⣿⣭⡙⣛⣯ ⡷⣞⡿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⠸⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⡶⣿⡽⣯⢯⣷⣻⣭⣿⣷⣻⠾⣽⣳⢯⢯⣟⣾⣻⣿⢿⢿⣽⢯⠿⣺⣷⣿⣻⣿⢿

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 1 (𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴄᴀʟ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴀ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏꜱᴇꜱ. sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ Chip was adopted at birth by Plankton and Karen, who raised him. But Plankton's autistic, which he only shared with Karen. He managed to 'mask' or hide some of his neurodivergence from Chip, who's got no idea his dad's neurodisabled. Chip walks in the door to his parent's room is slightly ajar. He peeks in, expecting to find his mom tidying up or his dad fiddling with one of his inventions. Instead, he sees his dad sitting still on the edge of his bed, his eye glazed over, his body stiff. "Dad?" But Plankton doesn't move, nor does he acknowledge his son's presence. Chip takes a step closer. He tries to shake him, but Plankton is like a doll, unresponsive. "Dad, are you ok?" Chip's voice cracks, fear starting to creep in. The room feels eerily silent, sans the steady tick of the clock on the wall. Chip tries to recall if he's ever seen his dad like this. It dawns on him that he might be hurt. "Dad?" he whispers again, his voice trembling. The only response is the persistent tick-tock of the clock, echoing in the silence. Chip's mind races, trying to make sense of the unexpected scene before him. Plankton's absence seizure had always been a closely guarded secret, shared only with Karen. But now, Chip's the one who's stumbled upon it, and he doesn't know what it is, nor what to do. He reaches out to touch his father's shoulder, his hand shaking, but Plankton doesn't flinch, despite his discomfort. His eye is open, yet unseeing. The realization hits Chip like a ton of bricks. Something is wrong, terribly wrong. "Mom, you need to come to your bedroom. Something's happened to Dad!" Karen rushes in, a look of concern etched on her screen as she takes in the scene. She quickly assesses Plankton and knew exactly what was going on. She knows Chip has never noticed Plankton's autistic traits. They kept the autism a secret from Chip as per Plankton's request. "It's ok, sweetie," she says calmly, placing a gentle hand on Chip's shoulder. "Your dad's just having a little... episode." Her voice is soft, but firm, trying to ease his panic without causing alarm. She's seen this hundreds of times. And she knew Chip doesn't have the faintest idea of his dad having a condition. "What do you mean?" Chip's eyes are wide with fear, his hands still hovering over his father's unresponsive body. He's never seen his dad so lifeless before. "It's like he's not even there," he whispers. Karen takes a deep breath and sighs. "Your dad doesn't know it's happening, but he'll be fine soon." Chip's eyes dart around the room, his gaze returning to Plankton. "But why?" he asks, voice shaking. "What's going on?" Karen's eyes are filled with a mix of sorrow and determination as she explains, "Your dad's brain does things differently from other people's, and this is one of those times." Chip's confusion deepens. "But wh-" "Remember how sometimes you get really focused on a video game and can't hear me right away?" Chip nods. "Well, this is like that, but his body goes still and he's not really aware of what's around him.." Chip watches as Karen carefully helps Plankton to lie down, placing a pillow under his head and covering him with a blanket. Plankton's eye remains open, but it's not looking at anything specific, just glazed over. Chip's fear turns to curiosity, questions racing through his mind. He's seen his dad in his 'work mode' before, where he's so focused on his inventions that it's like he's in another world. But this seems different. This is scary. Karen sighs. "We'll talk later, ok?" Chip nods, yet his curiosity overpowers his fear. He watches as Karen sits by Plankton's side. "It's ok, Plankton," she whispers, stroking his antennae. "You're safe here; I'm here." Karen's screen never left Plankton's face, her gaze filled with love and understanding. She knows his silent battles, his secret world of challenges. "Plankton, it's me, Karen," she says gently. "You're safe. I'm right here." She speaks softly. Chip, still hovering, can't help but notice the tenderness in her touch as Plankton's body remains still, his eye unblinking. Suddenly, Plankton speaks. "Must...the...yes." Plankton mumbles in a tone that's distant. The words make no sense to Chip, but Karen nods as if she understands. "It's ok Plankton," she soothes. "You're right here with me." The sight of his dad talking to himself sends a shiver down Chip's spine. He's seen Plankton mumble things before, lost in his thoughts, but this is different. It's as if he's in a trance, his eye seeing something only he can perceive. Chip feels his own anxiety spike, wondering what could be going through his dad's mind in this state. "Dad?" "Let him be," Karen says softly. "Sometimes he talks like that when he's coming out of it. It's part of his... process." Plankton continues. "The... ...has to be..." His words are fragmented, his voice trailing off as if his thoughts are racing faster than his mouth can keep up. "What...what is he saying?" Chip asks Karen. Karen's eyes stay locked on Plankton, her expression both concerned and calm. "He's not really talking to anyone," she explains. "It's just something that can happen during these episodes." Plankton's mumbling turns into a murmur. "The... the... it's all..." Karen leans in closer, her voice soothing, "It's okay, sweetheart. You're okay. Just let it happen." Karen knows from experience that the words are not for them, but rather a cerebral dance he has no control over. Chip, on the other hand, is utterly bewildered. The room seems to shrink around them, the air thick with unspoken questions and a palpable tension. Karen's hand never leaves Plankton's antenna, her thumb brushing it gently. "You're safe, Plankton," she repeats, her voice a lullaby. "You're here with me." "The... the... it's..." Plankton says. Chip can't help but lean closer, his hand reaching. Karen's hand shoots out to stop him. "Chip, no!" she says firmly. "Don't. It could make it worse." Her eyes are filled with a knowledge that Chip lacks, a fear that he's only just beginning to understand. Karen sighs. "It's just his brain... recalibrating." The silence stretches out, stifling. Chip watches his father, his mind racing. He's seen his dad's inventions come to life, but this... this is a mystery he can't solve. Plankton's antenna starts to twitch slightly, the first sign of movement since the episode began. "It's over, love," she whispers. "You're okay." Plankton's eye blinks, once, twice, and then focuses on Karen. Recognition slowly dawns on his face, confused. "Whaa-" "You had a moment, Plankton," she says gently. "It's okay." Plankton looks around, spotting Chip. "Chip? K-Karen, what's going on?" His voice cracks with confusion. "What's wrong? Did I...?" Chip feels a surge of relief seeing his dad's eye blink and his dad's voice return to normal. But the question in his dad's voice tells him that Plankton doesn't remember.

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.

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

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. 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.

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.

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 2 (𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴄᴀʟ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴀ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏꜱᴇꜱ. sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ "You had a little episode, sweetheart," Karen says, her voice warm and reassuring. "It's okay, just another one..." "Karen, wh-what is Chip doing here? Did he se-" Plankton's question is cut short as he notices Chip's expression, and he realized Chip must've indeed seen the whole thing. How long did it last? Embarrassment washed over Plankton. He'd managed to keep his condition from his son for so long, but now the secret was out. His heart raced, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. "Chip," he stammers, "I-" But Chip's eyes are wide. "What was that, Dad?" he asks, his tone innocent. Plankton's never talked about his autism to anyone other than Karen before. He's not sure how his son will react. Will Chip look at him differently now? "It's nothing, Chip," Plankton mumbles, avoiding eye contact. He wishes he could just sink into the bed and vanish. Chip, however, isn't one to back down easily. "No, Dad, what happened?" He insists, his voice still shaking from the fear that had just gripped him. "You were just sitting there, not moving or anyth-" "It's nothing," Plankton insists, his voice a bit more firm now. He doesn't want to admit it, but he feels a twinge of embarrassment at having been found out. He's always been so good at hiding his autistic traits from Chip. But now, his son is staring at him with a mix of curiosity and concern. Karen sighs, knowing it's time for Chip to have 'The Talk'. "Chip," she starts, her voice careful, "Your dad sometimes has moments like this. It's part of who he is, something he can't help." Chip's screen shifts to Karen, his eyes searching for understanding. "What do you me—" "It's NOTHING Chip," Plankton repeats, his voice more insistent. "Just... just DROP IT, OKAY‽" The sharpness in his tone surprises Chip. He's never heard his dad snap like that. He takes a step back, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt. "I just wanted to know if you were okay," he mumbles. Plankton's eye darts to Karen, silently pleading. "It's okay, Plankton," she says, her voice calm. "We can talk about it." But Plankton shakes his head, his cheeks flushing even more. "No, no, not now," he says, his voice smaller, almost defeated. The silence in the room stretches taut like a wire. Plankton's antenna starts to twitch erratically. It's a familiar sight to Karen, a tic. She's seen it before, yet never when Chip's been around. The tic again manifests as a twitch, his head jerking to the side in a small, rapid movement. "Dad? What's going on?" Chip's voice is smaller now, fear creeping in. Plankton's always been self-conscious about his condition. But now, his son looks at him with those innocent, questioning eyes. He swallows hard, trying to keep his anxiety in check. He doesn't know how to explain the tics and the stims that accompany his autism. He's always been so careful around Chip, hiding them as best as he could. "It's... it's just a... nothing," Plankton stammers. But Chip's curiosity is piqued. "What's happening to yo-" "CHIP!" Plankton's voice is sharp. Chip jumps back, his eyes wide. He's never seen his dad this upset. Karen's hand moves to Plankton's, her grip tight. "Plankton, it's okay," she says, her voice steady. Chip's eyes follow Plankton's head as it jerks slightly to the side again. "What's happening to your head?" Chip asks. He's never talked about his autism with anyone other than Karen, and certainly not with Chip. Plankton's antennae twitch in agitation. "I told you, it's tck tck nothing, Chip," he says, his voice strained. Karen squeezes Plankton's hand. "Let's just sit and talk, ok?" "I'm sorry," Plankton says to Karen. Karen's screen filled with sympathy. "You don't have to apologize, Plankton." She knows how much Plankton has struggled with his autism, how much he's worked to fit in and keep it hidden from Chip. "But he's going to want to know," Plankton says, his voice cracking. "I don't want hi-" "I know, love," Karen interrupts gently. "But we'll explain it to him. He's a smart boy. He'll understand." Plankton nods, his antennae still twitching. He takes a deep breath, preparing to face the reality that his secret is no longer safe. He looks at Chip, who's still hovering at the edge of the room, his eyes filled with uncertainty. "Chip, come here," Karen calls, patting the bed. "Your dad has something to tell you." Chip approaches cautiously, his heart thumping. Plankton looks up at him, his eye shimmering with unshed tears. Karen takes a deep breath, and then starts to explain. "Chip, your dad's brain is special. It does some things differently than ours. Sometimes, it can get overwhelmed and he needs a little time to... recalibrate." Plankton's gaze shifts to the floor, his antennae twitching. Chip can see the shame etched on his father's face, the fear of rejection. "Is that why you just moved your head like that?" he asks tentatively, pointing at the twitch. Plankton sighs, his body tense. "Yes," Karen admits, "that's part of it. And sometimes, he has moments where he just... zones out. It's like his brain goes to another place and can't come back right away." Chip's eyes are glued to his dad. "But why?" he asks her. Plankton's antennae twitch again, a silent plea for her to handle this. Karen's eyes soften. "It's called an absence seizure," she says. "It's part of his condition." Chip frowns, "What condition?" Plankton's gaze snaps up to his son, his heart racing. He's always been so careful to keep his autism hidden from Chip. But now, the moment of truth is here. "I'm... I-I-I-I…." Karen gives his hand a comforting squeeze. "It's called autism," she says. Chip's brow furrows. "What's autism?" His voice is small, his eyes searching his mother's face for answers. Plankton's heart feels like it's in a vice. He's avoided this conversation for so long. But now, the truth is out, and he's not sure if he can face his son's reaction. Karen smiles gently. "It's a way of being," she says. "Some people's brains work differently. They see the world in a unique way, and they have to deal with things like... episodes." Chip looks from his mother to his father, trying to comprehend. "But Dad, aren't you okay?" he asks, his voice small. Plankton's throat tightens. He's never felt so exposed. "I'm fine," he forces out. Plankton wishes he could just hide, disappear into the wallpaper. But he's trapped under the spotlight of his own son's curiosity.

2️⃣👀

🥈

☣️💨₂

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 16 Plankton's antennae twitch, and his body relaxes further into the embrace. He's safe here, with his son, in a world that so often feels like too much. Chip doesn't need him to be like everyone else, and that knowledge brings him peace. The room is silent but for the soft snores of Plankton as he drifts into sleep. His breathing is even, his body finally at ease. Chip watches him, his own eyes growing heavy. He's learned so much today, about his dad, about himself, about their complex life. He lies back, his head resting on the pillow, his arm still wrapped around his dad. How can he show love to him? To be a supportive son? The next morning Chip awoke to find his mom gathering their suitcases, as they'd make the drive back home today. She put Chip's trophy and ribbon in his suitcase. Plankton's still asleep, his head on Chip's shoulder. Chip felt a gentle warmth in his chest looking at his dad, his antennae slightly quivering in his sleep. He didn't want to wake him too abruptly. So, he gently began to move his fingers along Plankton's arm. The soft touch seemed to resonate within Plankton's dream, his body giving a slight twitch. Chip took a deep breath and continued, his fingertips tracing slow circles, hoping it would be enough to rouse him without causing distress. Plankton's antennae twitched again, picking up on the comforting pattern. "Dad?" Chip whispered, his voice gentle. He did not want to startle his father, who was finally at rest after the overwhelming day. Plankton's antennae twitched again, his eye still closed. "DAD," Chip tried again, a little too loud this time. Plankton jolted awake, his antennae springing to life. "What?" He asked, his voice filled with slumber. Chip felt his heart race. "It's time to go home, Dad.." Plankton's antennae relaxed at the familiar voice, his body slowly moving from the warmth of his son's embrace. He sat up, rubbing his eye. "Home," he repeats, his mind slowly waking up to the world around him. Karen looked up from her packing, smiling at the scene. "That's right," she said, her voice soft. "We need to get going." Plankton blinked slowly. "Home," he murmurs again. Chip nodded. "Yeah, home," he says, his voice trembling slightly. He'd had enough of the repetition, his mind craving a break from the endless cycle of his dad's words. Plankton's facial expression remains neutral, his eye not quite focusing. "Home" he parrots, his voice flat. "Ho-" Chip's patience starts to fray. "Yes, Dad, home," he says, his tone sharper than he intended. He's tired of the same words, the same questions, the same look of confusion. It's like talking to a broken record. "You DON'T have to repeat everything," he exclaims, making Plankton jump. Karen pauses in her packing, her heart racing. She knows this is a moment that can spiral quickly, but she also knows Chip's frustration is real, too. "Chip," she says, her voice calm. "Remember, Dad's autism makes things hard for him. He's just trying to make sense of what we're saying." She crosses the room to stand beside them, her hand on Chip's shoulder. Plankton's antennae are still. Chip's face softens. "Okay, Dad," he says, his voice gentle. "We're going home soon." He reaches up to stroke Plankton's cheek. But Plankton's reaction isn't what he expects. His dad's antennae snap back, and his face contorts in discomfort. "Chip," he says, his voice strained. "No." Chip's hand freezes, his eyes wide with shock. He quickly withdraws his touch, his heart racing. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I didn't mea-" But Plankton doesn't let him finish. "No," he says again, more firmly this time. "I don't like that!" "Dad," Chip says, his voice small. "What's w---" But Plankton interrupts, his voice rising. "I said no, Chip! I DON'T WANT THAT!" His hands balled into fists. Karen moves closer. The room feels smaller, the air thicker. Chip swallows hard. "I'm sorry," he says again. "I didn't kn-" "I JUST WANT TO GO HOME!" Plankton shouts over Chip. "So STOP TOUCHING ME!" His antennae vibrate in frustration, a rare show of his physical anger. "I don't want to be touched right now!" Karen's eyes fill with sadness. She knows Plankton's boundaries, has seen his frustration boil over before. But it never gets easier, never hurts less. But Chip wants to fix it, in the only way he knows how. He reaches out his hand again, slowly, tentatively, his eyes searching his father's. "It's okay, Dad," he says, his hand hovering above Plankton's shoulder. "I just wa-" But Plankton's frustration turns to fear. "NO!" He yells, his body tensing. "PLEASE!" Chip's hand freezes in midair, his eyes wide with surprise and hurt. He hadn't meant to upset his dad so much. He'd just wanted to help. So he pulls his hand back, but accidentally brushes his arm against Plankton's. The contact is light, barely noticeable to anyone else, but for Plankton, it's like a jolt of electricity. Plankton's antennae shiver violently, his body convulsing. His one eye rolls back in his head as he collapses onto the bed, his legs thrashing against the mattress. Karen sighs. "Another seizure," Karen says. "It's his brain's way of dealing with stress," she explains. Chip nods, his heart racing. Plankton's tiny body convulses on the hotel bed, his antennae flailing wildly. Karen quickly moves to his side. Her eyes never leave his. She's done this before, so many times, but each seizure still slices through her like a knife. "It's okay," she murmurs as Chip watched.

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 25 Time seems to drag as they wait for Plankton to wake up. But finally Karen notices a slight twitch in his eyebrow, his antennae starting to move slightly. Sandy squeezes Chip's hand. "Look, he's coming around," she whispers. Chip's eyes snap to his dad's face, his heart racing. Plankton's single eye flickers open, looking around the room with a haze of confusion. Karen rises from her chair, her hand still tight around his. "Hi, honey," she says gently. "You're okay. You just had a little surgery. Your dentist removed your wisdom teeth. Are you almost ready to go home?" Plankton's gaze settles on her face, his expression still cloudy. He tries to speak, but his mouth is thick with cotton. "Wha..." he mumbles, his tongue fumbling with the gauze and numbness. Karen's eyes fill with relief. "Shh, it's okay. You're in recovery." Her voice is a soothing balm to his confusion. Sandy steps forward, her eyes shining with concern. "You're okay, buddy! How goes it?" Plankton blinks slowly, the world swimming before his eye. "M'th... moufth?" he mumbles, his speech slurred from the numbness and remaining anesthesia. Sandy and Karen can't help but chuckle at his antics. "Your mouth is okay, Plankton," Karen explains, her voice patient. "They just removed extra molars." Plankton's antennae wave erratically as his eye widens. "I can'th fee my teef," he says, his voice still thick. He tries to sit up, only to fall back with a thump, his antennae drooping. "Whoa," he says, his eye spinning. "The floor moveths." Chip giggles nervously, his heart racing. He's seen his dad act weird before, but not like this. Sandy's laughter fills the room. "Oh, Plankton," she says. "You're always full of surprises." The nurse smiles. "It's the anesthesia," she explains. "It'll wear off in a bit. But for now, keep talking to him." Karen nods, her relief palpable. She knows her husband's quirks, but this is new even for him. She leans in. "You're ok, Plankton. We're here for you." Plankton's antennae twitch as he tries to comprehend. His voice slurs more, "Whewe am I?" He looks around, his eye blinking. "I'm in’a white... box?" His words slur together, and he starts to giggle. "I thishk I'm in a fridge!" The nurse, Karen, and Chip all chuckle despite themselves. The tension in the room breaks a little. "Dad, you're still at the dentist," Chip says, trying to keep a straight face. "Dentith?" Plankton slurs, his antennae waving in confusion. "Why am I in da fridge den?" His laughter turns into a snort, and the gauze in his mouth shifts, causing him to drool. "Careful, buddy," Sandy says, her eyes crinkling with amusement. "You've got gauze in your mouth." Plankton looks up. "Gosh?" Chip can't hold in his laughter anymore. He sees the humor in the situation, despite the anxiety from earlier. "You're in the surgery recovery room, Dad," he explains, trying not to laugh. "You had some teeth removed." Plankton's antennae wave wildly. "Teesh?" He asks, his voice slurred. "I can'th feel my teethies. Dith they tik dem aww?" This sets off a fit of giggles from the group, even Karen can't hold back. "They just took out your wisdom teeth, love," she says, her voice full of mirth. "They had to, remember?" Plankton's eye crosses. "Wi’dom teefs?" He repeats, his voice slurred. "Buth... but I'm smart wifth aww my teef!" He tries to touch his mouth, but his arm flops back down, too heavy. "Windom teefs awe supposeth to be... smart?" His voice trails off into a silly giggle. The nurse laughs lightly. "Mr. Plankton, you're adorable. But yes, wisdom teeth can cause problems. They're like the extra baggage in your mouth that you don't need." Sandy looks at him. "Do you recall anyth—" But Plankton's eye rolls back and he's out again, snoring gently. The nurse chuckles. "It's the medicine," she says. "He's still under the effects. Give him some time." Karen nods, her smile lingering despite the situation. She's seen Plankton act silly before, but never like this. The anesthesia has brought out a whole new side of him.

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

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

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) pt. 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."

❤️‍🩹..𝐀𝐦𝐢 𝐒𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐢 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐤 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢..❤️‍🩹<𝟑

r/TwoSentenceSadness icon Go to TwoSentenceSadness r/TwoSentenceSadness 2 yr. ago TransParentCJ I had never understood how everyone else seemed to ignore the buzzing g sound of electricity everywhere they went; it was deafening to me. The doctors sent volt after volt of that same loud, excruciating electricity through my brain now, in some attempt to "cure" me.

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.

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 29 "Daddy?" Chip asks, his voice full of concern. "You ok?" Plankton's hand moves. "I don't wanna be touched," he says in annoyance. "Pain." Chip's face falls, but he understands. "Okay, Dad," he says, pulling his hand back. "Do you want me to ge-" "No," Plankton says, his voice firm. "I don't." Karen nods, her eyes knowing. "Remember, Plankton," she says gently. "You might be even more sensitive to touch right now because of the surgery. It's okay to tell us if something bothers you." Chip nods, his expression solemn. They both know that Plankton's autism means senses can be overwhelmed even on a good day. Now, with his mouth sore from the surgery, any touch could be agonizing. Plankton takes a sip of water, but does little for the ache in his jaw. He leans back into the pillows, his eye half-closed. Chip sits on the bed by him. "Dad," Chip starts, his voice tentative. "I'm here for you." Plankton's antennas twitch slightly. "I know, buddy," he says, voice strained. "Thanks." Karen looks at Chip, her eyes filled with appreciation. "Why don't you read to him?" She suggests. "It might help distract him." Chip nods, his mind racing. What would his dad want to hear? He settles on a book about sci-fi, something that usually interested him. He sits down by Plankton on the bed. He opens the book and begins to read, his voice low and steady. "Once upon a time, there was a utopian world," he reads, his eyes glancing at Plankton. His dad's antennas twitch slightly in response. Good, he's listening. As Chip reads about molecules and atoms, Plankton's eye begins to glaze over. The story is interesting, but the pain in his mouth makes it hard to focus. He can feel his anxiety start to rise, his chest getting tighter. Karen notices his discomfort and touches his hand lightly. "Honey, are you okay?" She asks. But then the doorbell rings, interrupting their moment. Chip jumps up, excited for a break. "I'll get it," he says, his voice hopeful. Karen nods, her gaze still on Plankton. Chip finds Sandy at the door! "Hi Chip," she says, her smile wide. "I thought I'd stay a bit, keep y'all company or whatnot." So she follows Chip into his parents bedroom. Plankton's antennae twitch at the sight of Sandy. "Hi," he mumbles, not really focusing. Karen knew this look usually meant an oncoming absence seizure for him. "You okay?" Sandy asks, her eyes searching his. Plankton doesn't respond. Sure enough, Karen knew an absence seizure's starting. Still Sandy approaches, her movements slow and careful, not wanting to overwhelm him. "Plankton?" Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, but he doesn't react. His mind is somewhere else. Karen quickly explains, "It's okay, Sandy. He's having an absence seizure." Sandy gasps, for she has never seen this before. "Oh no," she whispers, her eyes wide. "It's okay Sandy," Karen says, her voice calm. "It's just a part of his autism." Sandy looks at Karen, her eyes questioning. "An absence seizure?" Sandy asks, her voice quiet. Karen nods, her hands steady. "They're harmless, but can be disconcerting if you're not used to them. They can last anywhere from a few seconds to a couple of minutes, even a few hours." They both sit on his bed. Plankton's antennae twitch once more before his body goes still. The only sign he's alive is his chest rising and falling with his shallow breaths. Sandy watches, concern etched on her face. "What can we do?" she whispers to Karen. Karen shakes her head, keeping her voice low. "Just stay with him. Perhaps talk to him, but don't touch unless he initiates. Keep it calm." Sandy nods, taking a deep breath. She sits on the edge of the bed, her eyes never leaving Plankton's still form. "H- hey, Plankton," she says softly, her voice trembling. "It's me, Sandy. I came to check on you." Karen's eyes never leave Plankton's face, watching closely for any sign of the seizure's end. She smiles gently at Sandy. "It's okay, sometimes he can hear us. Just keep talking." Sandy nods, her voice soft. "Plankton, I'm here," she says. "Your surgery was yesterday!" She smiles nervously, hoping to engage him. Plankton remains motionless. Karen squeezes his hand gently. "You had a good night's sleep," she says, continuing to talk to him as if he's just daydreaming. "Your mouth will heal soon." Sandy nods, her voice even softer. "Yeah, Plankton. And Chip and I are gonna help you through this, okay?" Plankton's antennae barely move. The seizure seems to be continuing. Karen sighs, her hand still in his. Chip watches his dad with a heavy heart. He wishes there was more he could do than just sit doing nothing. He glances at them, his eyes questioning. Karen shakes her head, keeping her voice low. "It's normal," she explains. "It's just his autism making it harder for him to deal with pain. He'll come out of it in his own time." "How might I know when it's over?" Sandy whispers. Karen nods, her gaze still on Plankton. "When his antennae move again, or when he blinks. It's like he's just spaced out, but his brain's not processing anything around him." "How do you know if or when he can hear us?" She asks, watching his chest rise and fall rhythmically. Karen's eyes never leave Plankton's still form. "Sometimes, during these seizures, he can still process what's being said around him. It's like his brain's on pause, but the background's still playing. It's why we keep talking." "So what do we talk about?" She whispers. Karen smiles gently. "Just keep it simple and calm. Talk about his favorite things, or ask questions that don't require an answer." Sandy nods, taking a deep breath. "Plankton," she says softly. "You know, I was thinking, going through surgery can't be easy for anyone, but especially not for someone with sensory issues like you." But still Plankton doesn't budge. But Sandy's still curious. "Karen, why doesn't he blink during these?" Sandy whispers, her eyes never leaving his face. "It's a part of the seizure," Karen says quietly. "His body goes still, and his brain does not send signals to blink or move. It's like his body's frozen in time. Why don't you try to keep his mind engaged?" Sandy nods, leaning closer. "Plankton," she whispers. "You know what I was thinking?" Her voice is soft, almost a sing-song. "We could have ice cream. What do you think?" There's a pause. Then, a tiny twitch in his antenna. Karen smiles. It's working. "Maybe mint chocolate chip," Sandy suggests, her voice soothing. "Or would you prefer vanilla?" "Villa," Plankton replies, a glimmer of life returning to his eye. Karen's smile widens. "Look, he's coming back," she whispers. Chip's eyes light up, his voice eager. "Can we have ice cream too?" Karen nods. "Of course. But let's wait until later." Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, but his eye remained unblinking. So Sandy tries again. "What's your favorite flavor, Plankton?" She asks him, her voice barely above a whisper. This time, there's more life in his antennae. They wave slightly. "Villa," he murmurs. Sandy nods. "Okay, vanilla it is. Great! We'll have a little celebration later with your ice cream, okay?" And then, finally, his eye blinks. "Welcome back," Karen says, her voice a warm smile. Chip's face breaks into a grin, and Sandy looks at him with a mix of relief and curiosity. Plankton looks around a bit confused, seeing Sandy sitting by him. "S-Sandy?" He says, his voice weak. "How long have you been here!" Sandy smiles warmly, her eyes filled with relief. "Not long," she says. "Just waited for you to come back to us." Plankton nods, his antennas drooping. "I-I must've had a seizure.." Karen nods gently. "Yes, you did," she confirms. "But it's over now, and you're ok." She squeezes his hand, her eyes full of warmth and reassurance. Sandy scoots beside Plankton. "Back when I was in Texas, I gotta extra copy of a Texan science book and just knew you'd like to keep it!" She pulls out a big book. Plankton's eye lit up. "Ooh, let's look at the index!" "What, why the index?" Sandy asks. "It's just a part of his autistic brain that he always likes the index." Karen interjects. "Read the title and page to him; it might help him relax a bit." Sandy nods, her voice soft as she reads. "Alright, Plankton. 'The Wonders of Texas Mechanics'... page 32. 'Life in Texas'... page 110." Sandy holds the book in front of them as Plankton peers over by her shoulder, following along. Sandy continues on reading. "Texan Electricity... page 240. Alien Technology... page 478. Unusual Texas Phenomena... page 520. New Texan Inventions... page 600." Sandy reads on. "Discoveries in Texas Biology... page 780. The Molecular Universe... page 850. Li—" Sandy is cut off by a soft snore. Plankton's antennae had stopped twitching and his eye was now fully closed. Sandy looks to find his head resting against her arm, his mouth slightly open. Karen smiles gently. "Looks like he's out," she whispers. Sandy nods, setting the book down carefully. "I think so," she whispers back. "He must be exhausted. And the pain probably wore him out." They sit in quiet companionship. His snores are soft and rhythmic. Sandy's arm is now around Plankton's shoulders, supporting him. Chip looks at his mom and Sandy, a question in his eyes. Karen nods. "It's okay," she whispers. "Let him sleep. He needs rest." Sandy nods with compassion. She gently shifts her arm around Plankton, making sure his head is comfortably propped on her shoulder. Chip watches, feeling a mix of awe and confusion. He's never seen his dad trusting and relaxed. Karen whispers, "Why don't you go play, Chip? We'll keep an eye on him." Chip nods, his eyes lingering on his father. He doesn't want to leave, but he understands that his dad needs peace.

02/06/24⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

𝖳𝖮 𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖫𝖣 pt. 6 Sequel to Autism And All by NeuroFabulous https://emojicombos.com/autism-and-all Read the Autism And All one first! Plankton's mouth moves, but the words come out as a jumble. "Purple...dog...car... no, not a car," he says, his expression vacant. Chip swallows hard, not knowing how to respond to the senseless words. Karen watches from the sidelines, her eyes filled with understanding and love. This is her Plankton—her quirky, lovable husband, whose brain operates on a different frequency. She sees the fear in Chip's screen and knows he's scared, but she also knows that understanding is key. "It's ok, Dad," Chip whispers, his voice trembling. Plankton's hands move erratically, as if trying to capture invisible objects. "Yellow...box... closed...open," he mumbles. Chip listens, his heart racing. "Dad, can you hear me?" he whispers. Plankton's hand darts out, flailing through the air. "Butterfly," he says, his voice a mix of wonder and frustration. "There are no butterflies here," Chip says. Karen smiles reassuringly. "It's ok. Let's just be with him." Plankton's words continue. "Plankton," Plankton murmurs, "the world is spinning—no, it's just me spinning." He laughs, his eye unfocused. Chip swallows a lump in his throat. "Dad," Chip whispers, "are you seeing things?" Karen sighs, knowing this is a way his brain copes with pain and overstimulation. "Sometimes his thoughts come out all mixed up," she says, her voice a gentle explanation. "It's like his brain's way of telling stories when it's overwhelmed." "Ball...bounce...high," Plankton murmurs, his hand mimicking the action of throwing an invisible object. "No, Dad," Chip says, trying to keep his voice soothing. "No bouncing here." He looks to Karen for guidance. "It's alright," she says, her eyes never leaving Plankton's. "Just talk to him calmly. It's his way of making sense of things." Chip nods, his voice barely above a breath. "Ball," he repeats back to his father, trying to enter his world. Plankton's eye snaps to him, a spark of recognition lighting his gaze. "Yes," he murmurs. "Ball...bounce." Karen watches them, her heart swelling with pride. Chip is learning, adapting. He's becoming a bridge between the worlds of the neurotypical and neurodivergent. "Red ball," Plankton says, his hand rising and falling as if tossing a non-existent sphere. "No, blue ball," he corrects, the words tumbling out in a rush. Chip nods, playing along. "You're playing catch, Dad?" he asks, his voice softer now. Plankton's gaze flickers to him, confused. "Catch," he whispers, his hand moving in slow arcs. "But it's not a ball," Chip says, his voice filled with gentle persuasion. "It's just a game you're playing in your head.." Plankton's hand stops, his gaze locking onto Chip, a hint of irritation flitting across his features. "What?" Plankton asks, his voice disoriented as his surroundings finally come back to him. Chip swallows, unsure of what to say. He wants to help, but feels frustrated by his dad's behavior. "You know, Dad, when you talk like that, it's hard to understand," he says, his voice carrying a touch of exasperation. "You're not really playing catch, are you?" Plankton's eye narrows slightly, his movements stilling. "It's not real to anyone else!" Chip exclaims, his voice louder than he intended. Karen gives him a sharp look, a reminder to keep his voice down. "Chip," she says, her tone a mixture of warning and patience. "You know his autism makes things different for him." But Chip's thinking of the fidget toy, of the way his dad snatched it from him. He feels a surge of anger, a feeling he's not used to having towards his dad. "I know, but why does he have to be like this?" Chip asks, his voice a mix of frustration and hurt. "Why can't he just be normal?" Karen's gaze softens. "Chip, everyone's normal is different. Your dad's brain just works in a unique way. It's not wrong, just di-" "But it's annoying!" Chip interrupts, his voice cracking. "Everything's always about his needs!" Plankton's hand, which had been still, starts to twitch again. Karen sighs. "It's not about needs, it's about his comfort, Chip. And right now, he--" "But what about my comfort?" Chip retorts, his voice loud in the quiet room. "What about when he yells or throws things or gets upset because of tiny stuff?" He's close to tears, his emotions a tangled knot. "Dad, everything's not about you," he says, not meaning to sound harsh. But the words hang in the air like accusations. "Everyone has to deal with things," he continues. "Why can't you? You don't really have it that bad. Do you honestly think your wife, my mother, actually enjoys all of this? I can't even play with my friends because you get too overwhelmed! And for what? Because someone might laugh too loud or because the TV's on too high? Do you know how embarrassing it is to have to leave because you can't handle a science fair?" Karen's face falls. She's heard Chip's frustrations before, but never so raw and out in the open. Plankton's eye darts around the room, his mind racing to understand. He's missed the context, but the anger in Chip's voice is clear. "Chip," she starts, her voice steady. "Your dad's brain is just wired differently. It's not his fault." But Chip's on a roll. "I know, I know," he says, his frustration mounting. "But it's like he doesn't even try to get better. Why can't he just ignore it like everyone else? Why can't we take him to a doctor who can fix him?" Plankton's hand stutters to a stop, his gaze focusing on Chip with a mix of hurt and confusion. "Fix me?" he repeats, his voice tiny. "What do you mean?" "I don't know," Chip says, his shoulders slumping. "Just... make it so you're not always in pain or scared or...weird." He can't look at his dad, his eyes burning with unshed tears. "Living like this, with all your autistic stuff, it's just..." He trails off, his voice cracking. "It's not worth it." Plankton's hand starts to shake. "W-what?" He asks, his voice shaky. Karen's heart breaks for him, for the hurt that's clearly etched on his face. "Chip," she starts, but his words cut her off. "It's like you don't even see us," Chip says, his voice filled with pain. "You're in your own world, and we're just here, trying to figure out how to help you." Plankton's expression is a mask of confusion and sadness. "Did my mom marry you before or after she found out you're autistic?" Chip asks, his voice sharp with accusation. Karen's eyes widen in shock. "Chip!" She says, her voice firm. "That's not how we talk about it. And I knew before.." But Chip's hurt, has turned to anger, and he's not listening. "But it's true!" Chip insists, his voice rising. "You always have to be in charge, Dad, always have to have it your way. It's like you don't even see us!" Plankton's face pales, the words stinging like bees. "Chip, please," Karen interjects, her voice pleading. But Chip can't stop, the frustration of years boiling over. "Why can't you just be like everyone else? Why do you always have to be so difficult?" Plankton's hand drops to his side, his eye filling with sadness. "I'm sor—" Karen steps in, her voice firm. "Chip, that's enough. Your dad is doing his best." But Chip's anger is like a storm, unyielding. "Best? What about our best? What about us? It's always about you, Dad!" Plankton's face contorts, the pain in his heart as sharp as the pain in his mouth. "Dad, we don't need you," Chip says, his words a knife to Plankton's soul. "Chip," Karen says, her voice sharp. "You need to go to your room. Now." She points to the door, her eyes filled with a mixture of anger and sadness. Chip's shoulders slump, but he doesn't argue, retreating to his room. Plankton's gaze follows him, his mind reeling. He's heard the frustration before, but never so bluntly. Karen sighs, exhaustion etching lines on her face. "I know it's hard, babe," she says, stroking Plankton's swollen cheek. "But Chip's just trying to underst--" But Plankton shakes his head, his voice a whisper. "No, no. He's right," he says, his eye brimming with unshed tears. "I'm the one who's always in the way." He pulls his hand away, his gaze dropping to his lap. Karen's eyes are filled with a mix of anger and despair. "Don't say that," she whispers fiercely. "You're not a burden." But Plankton's thoughts are racing, his stims abandoned. "Look at what I've done," he says, his voice breaking. "I've made you leave things, I've made him hate me." Karen's grip on his hand tightens. "He doesn't hate you," she insists, her voice firm.

KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY ix (Autistic author) Plankton's smile flickers back to life, his eye lighting up slightly. "Good," he says, a monotone echo. "Friend." Sponge Bob nods, his smile genuine despite the sadness still lingering in his eyes. "Always," he says, his voice filled with warmth. "Well, what should we do now?" Plankton's gaze shifts to the book, then to Sponge Bob. "Movie," he says, his voice picking up a hint of excitement. "Friend watch movie." His hands flap in a pattern that seems to mirror his thoughts racing. Sponge Bob's smile is a mix of relief and excitement. "Movie?" he repeats, his eyes lighting up. "Yeah, let's watch a movie! What do you want to see?" Plankton's eye dart around the room, his hands flapping in a flurry of indecision. "You choose," he says, his voice a monotone. "You know me." His antennas twitch with anticipation. Sponge Bob's smile is filled with understanding. "Okay, then," he says, his voice calm. He scans the bookshelf, looking for a title that might spark Plankton's interest. "How about this one?" he asks, holding up a DVD case with a picture of the Dirty Bubble on the front. Plankton's antennas perk up, eyelighting up at the sight of the villainous bubble's grinning face. "Yes," he says, his voice a monotone. "Dirty Bubble." His hands flap in excitement. Sponge Bob's heart squeezes with love and concern for his unique friend. "Alright, Plankton," he says, his voice gentle. "Let's watch 'The Great Dirty Bubble Heist'." He pops the DVD into the player, the machine whirring to life. The two of them settle on the couch, Sponge Bob's arm draped protectively around Plankton's shoulder. Plankton's hands are still, his gaze fixed on the screen as the movie starts. The TV flickers to life, casting a warm glow over the room. Sponge Bob feels Plankton's body relax slightly against his side, his eyes never leaving the colorful bubble of the Dirty Bubble's latest escapade. As the movie plays, Plankton's flapping subsides, his gaze transfixed by the screen. The sounds of bubbles popping and laughter fill the room, a stark contrast to the silence that typically accompanied their stakeouts at the Chum Bucket. Sponge Bob feels Plankton's body relax further into the couch, his shoulder leaning into him. He notices Plankton's antennas twitch slightly with every joke, his eye flickering with understanding at the slapstick humor. It's a small sign of connection, but it's enough. The movie's plot unfolds, and Plankton's chuckles echo through the room, his laughter a comforting reminder of their long-standing friendship. Sponge Bob smiles, watching Plankton react to the familiar beats of the film's storyline. It's clear his friend's love for the simple pleasure of laughter hasn't changed. As the film progresses, Plankton's chuckles grow softer, his eyelid drooping as he's nestled against Sponge Bob. He's falling asleep, his mind finally at ease in the comforting embrace of his friend. His head lolls to the side, his antennas coming to rest on Sponge Bob's arm. His mouth has fall open slightly, his breaths even and deep. Sponge Bob's heart swells with tenderness, watching Plankton's face. He gently shifts his position, adjusting the small blanket over Plankton to keep him warm. The TV's light continues to flicker across their faces, casting shadows on the walls. Sponge Bob doesn't want to wake him; instead, he takes the moment to study his friend's newfound peace. Plankton's antennas, usually a blur of activity, are still, his breaths deep and rhythmic. Sponge Bob notices the slightest tremble in his friend's hand, now resting on the couch cushion. He gently takes it in his, intertwining their fingers. Their friendship remains a bastion of comfort and acceptance. The TV echoes in the room, punctuating the silence between them. Sponge Bob feels Plankton's body relax further into the couch, his head now resting heavily against his shoulder. Plankton's laughter has turned to soft snores, his antenna twitching with each breath he takes. Karen peeks into the room, and sees Plankton asleep against Sponge Bob's side. She goes closer, wanting to make sure Plankton is ok. She feels warmth seeing their friendship unchanged by his diagnosis. Sponge Bob, ever the caretaker, has his arm around Plankton, his hand over Plankton's, their fingers intertwined. Karen smiles softly with pride. This moment of peace, despite the turmoil, shows their unyielding bond. "You guys okay?" she asks, her voice a gentle whisper. Sponge Bob nods. "Yeah, Karen," he says, his voice low. "We're just watching a movie." Karen's smile is filled with warmth as she steps closer. "I can see that," she whispers. "How is he?" Sponge Bob's gaze shifts to her, his smile a mix of relief and sadness. "Different," he says, his voice soft. "But still Plankton." Karen nods with understanding. "He's been through a lot," she says, her voice a gentle whisper. "But he's strong, and he has his friends." She sits down on the couch, her hand reaching out to rest on Plankton's leg. Her touch is light, comforting. Plankton's body twitches slightly in his sleep, his antennae stirring. Sponge Bob squeezes Plankton's hand gently. "You're ok, buddy," he murmurs, his voice a soft reassurance. Karen sits down beside them, gaze on Plankton's serene expression. "I'm here," she says, her voice soft. "Always." She reaches out, her hand resting on Plankton's knee. The touch penetrates his subconscious, his antennae twitching slightly in response. Sponge Bob nods. "Thanks, Karen," he whispers, his voice filled with gratitude. "I'm still trying to get used to this new Plankton." Karen's expression is one of quiet understanding. "It's ok," she says, her voice a soothing balm. "It's a lot to process, but you're doing great." She looks down at Plankton, his small form snuggled against Sponge Bob. "He's lucky to have you," she whispers. Sponge Bob nods, his voice thick with emotion. "But it's hard to see him like this." His eyes well with tears, his grip on Plankton's hand tightening. Karen's gaze is filled with compassion as she looks at Plankton. She reaches over, her hand gently brushing his cheek. "He's still the same Plankton," she whispers. "He's just learning to navigate a new part of himself." Sponge Bob nods, his eyes still fixed on the TV. "I know," he says, his voice tight. "But it's so...different." His eyes flicker with unshed tears. Karen's gaze remains on Plankton's peaceful face, her hand still on his knee. "It is," she says, her voice soft. "But different isn't bad, Sponge Bob." She looks at him, her eyes filled with a gentle wisdom. "It's just new. And sometimes, new things take getting used to." Sponge Bob nods. "I know," he says, his voice a whisper. "It's just..." He pauses, his thoughts racing. "It's just that I want to be there for him, you know?" His voice cracks, his grip on Plankton's hand becoming stronger. Karen nods with empathy. "I know you do, Sponge Bob," she says, her voice soft. "And you are." She reaches over, placing a comforting hand on Sponge Bob's shoulder. "You just need to be patient with him, and with yourself. We're all learning together." The TV laugh track fades into silence as the movie reaches its end. Plankton's snores remain steady, a testament to his sleep. Sponge Bob sighs, his eyes finally leaving the screen. He looks down at their joined hands. "I'll be patient," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. "For you, Plankton." His eyes meet Karen's, a silent promise passing between them. "I know you will," she says, her voice a gentle encouragement. "You've always been a good friend." The room is quiet, save for Plankton's soft snores. Sponge Bob's eyes remain on the TV, his thoughts spinning. Karen's words echo in his head: different isn't bad, just new. He looks down at Plankton. He tries to imagine a world where Plankton doesn't have autism, but the thought feels wrong. This new version of his friend is still Plankton, still the same in so many ways. Their bond is strong, their friendship unchanged. He squeezes Plankton's hand, his thoughts racing. "I'll be there for you," he whispers, his voice a promise. "We'll figure this out together." Plankton's snores hitch slightly, his antenna twitching in his sleep. Sponge Bob's filled with a newfound determination. He'll be there for Plankton, no matter what. His heart swells as he leans down, his lips brushing Plankton's forehead in a soft kiss. The room is a cocoon of quiet, their friendship a beacon in the stillness. Karen watches them, her heart heavy but hopeful. "Let's get him to bed," she says, her voice a gentle whisper. Sponge Bob nods, his movements careful as he lifts Plankton into his arms. Plankton's eye flutter open briefly, his gaze confused but quickly calming at the sight of Sponge Bob's smiling face. "Tired," Plankton murmurs, his voice sleepy. Sponge Bob nods, his smile gentle. "Come on, buddy," he says, his voice a warm whisper. "Let's get you to bed." They're careful not to jostle him to much. Plankton's eye droop closed again, his body limp in Sponge Bob's embrace. Karen leads the way to the bedroom. The bed is made with fresh sheets, the room organized with care. Plankton's favorite gadgets line the shelves, each item meticulously placed. Sponge Bob lays Plankton gently on the bed, body is heavy with sleep, his snores a comforting lullaby. Karen pulls the blankets up, tucking them around his small form. "Thank you," Plankton mumbles. Sponge Bob's smile is warm and reassuring. "You're welcome, buddy," he says, his voice low. "Sleep tight." Karen watches the scene with affection. "I'll be right outside if you need anything," she whispers. Plankton's antennas twitch, his eye opening slightly. "I lo-ove you.." "We love you too, Plankton," he says, his voice cracking with emotion. He smiles at Karen, who nods in understanding before they slip out of the room, letting him sleep.

𝖳𝖮 𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖫𝖣 pt. 7 Sequel to Autism And All by NeuroFabulous https://emojicombos.com/autism-and-all Read the Autism And All one first! "Chip's just trying to understand. And so are you." But Plankton can't find the words, the weight of his son's accusations crushing him. He swipes at a tear that's managed to escape, his shoulders heaving. "I just want to be normal," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "To not be a disappointment." Karen's eyes are filled with love and sadness as she shakes her head. "You could never be a disappointment to me, Plankton. You're perfect just the way you are." But he stands up, turning away from her. "No, I'm not," he says, his back to her. "Look at what I've done. I've ruined our lives." His voice is thick with emotion. "I've made Chip resentful, and I've made you...sacrifice so much." Karen moves to his side, placing a hand on his arm. "You haven't ruined anything," she insists. "You're a wonderful husband, an—" "Don't," he snaps, turning to face her, the pain in his eyes like a physical force. "Don't lie to me. You deserve better than this. Better than a husband who can't even sit through a simple family outing without falling apart." His voice cracks, the weight of his words heavy in the quiet room. "You deserve someone who can give you a normal life!" Karen's eyes fill with determined love. "You are what makes our life normal, Plankton," she says, her voice steady. "Our life is special because of you. And as for Chip, he's just confused. He'll understand when he's older." But Plankton shakes his head, his hand coming up to cover his mouth, stifling a cry as he leaves their bedroom. He moves through the house, his bare feet silent on the cool floor, his thoughts a cacophony of doubt and self-loathing. His mind replays Chip's words over and over as he opens the back door, to the backyard. The porch creaks under his weight, his eye unfocused. Meanwhile, Karen goes in to Chip's bedroom. "Chip," she says, her voice soft but firm. "You need to apologize to your dad." He looks up, his eyes swollen from crying. "But I just want him to get better," he whispers, his voice small. "I don't like seeing him hurt." Karen sighs, sitting on the edge of his bed. "I know, sweetie. But your dad can't get 'better' from being autistic. It's not a sickness." She takes a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "What your dad needs is for us to understand him, to make things easier for him. And for us to be patient when things are hard." Chip sniffs, wiping at his nose. "But it's not fair," he says, his voice a mix of anger and sadness. "Why does he get to be different?" Karen's eyes fill with compassion. "Because he is, Chip. And that's ok. We're all different, in our own ways. That's what makes us unique." She pauses, looking at him with a gentle expression. "But it's also what makes us a family." Plankton sits in the backyard. The stars twinkle above, their indifferent beauty a contrast to the tumult in his heart. He's heard the whispers before, the way people look at him—his inability to fit in, his strange behaviors. He's always known he was different. But to hear it from Chip...it's like a punch to the gut. His mind races, trying to make sense of it all. The world feels like a puzzle he can never solve, no matter how much he wants to. He's tried to be better, to do better, to be the husband and father his family deserves. But it's always just out of reach, like the elusive Krabby Patty formula he's chased for years. He looks down at his hands, still trembling slightly. In the quiet of the night, his stims come back, a comforting rhythm that soothes his frayed nerves. He starts to rock slightly, back and forth, his eye unfocused. It's a habit he's had since he was young, a way to calm the storm in his head. It's his brain's way of telling him he's safe, even when the world feels like it's closing in. He doesn't realize he's speaking until the words spill out. "I'm not enough," he whispers to the night. "I'll never be enough.." Back in the house, Karen holds Chip tight, her heart heavy with the weight of their conversation. She knows his frustrations are born out of love, but she also knows how much Chip's words sting Plankton. She needs to fix this, to mend the fracture in their family's foundation. "Come on, buddy," she says, wiping Chip's tears away. "Let's talk to your dad. He needs to hear you're sorry." Chip nods, his eyes red and swollen. Karen leads him to the back door, where they find Plankton, his gaze lost as he shivers uncontrollably. "Dad?" Chip says. Plankton's head snaps up, his eye wide with surprise. "What?" He says, his voice thick with pain. "I'm sorry," Chip whispers, his body trembling. "I didn't mean those things." Karen's gaze is firm, her voice steady. "We need to talk, Plankton," she says. "Both of you." She leads them back inside, the warmth of the house a stark contrast to the chill outside. Plankton allows himself to be guided, his mind a whirlwind. In the living room, they sit, a tapestry of emotions. Karen starts, her voice measured. "Chip, your dad doesn't mean to make things difficult. His brain just interprets the world differently." Chip looks up, his eyes wet. "But why can't he just try?" He asks, his voice desperate. "Why can't he just be normal?" Plankton flinches, his gaze dropping to the floor. Karen sighs, her hand wrapped around Plankton's. "Chip," she starts gently. "You know autism isn't a choice. Your dad's brain is different. It's like asking someone to change their eye color." Chip frowns, his young mind struggling to comprehend. "But why can't he just ignore it?" He asks, his voice small. Plankton looks up, his eye filled with a mix of anger and sadness. "Because it's not ignorable," he says, his voice firm. "It's like you're asking one to ignore breathing." The room falls silent, the gravity of his words sinking in. "It's always there, affecting how he sees, hears, feels." Chip's expression softens, a glimmer of understanding dawning. "Your dad does his best every day. And so do we, to support him. It's not about changing for him, Chip," she says. "It's about meeting him where he is. When someone's in a wheelchair, you don't tell them to climb the stairs. You build a ramp." Plankton nods slightly, his gaze still on the floor. "Autism is like that," Karen continues. "It's part of who he is, and we love him for all of him."

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 4 (𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴄᴀʟ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴀ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏꜱᴇꜱ. sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ Karen, ever the calming presence, moves closer to Plankton, her movements slow and deliberate. She knows his triggers, his signs of distress. She whispers, "It's okay, Plankto-" But Plankton's body doesn't seem to hear. Only his arm shoots out, his hand slapping as he tries to grasp something, anything, from the bedside table. Karen's eyes dart to his hand, and she knows exactly what he wants. She reaches over in to the bedside drawer and pulls out a box of sensory needs. She gently hands him a fidget squishy before putting the sensory box back into the bedside drawer. Plankton's movements slow slightly as he compresses it in his grip. Karen knows Plankton's autism like the back of her hand. She's studied his tics, his stims, the way his body reacts to stress. It's been a silent dance between them for years, his unspoken needs met with her quiet understanding. But now, Chip's in the picture, and he's curious. Plankton squeezes the fidget squishy in his hand, his breaths coming in short gasps. Karen watches his antennae, the way they twitch with each inhale, slower with each exhale. It's a pattern she's come to recognize, a sign he's coming back to them. "It's okay," she whispers. She knows his limits. Chip watches, his eyes wide with wonder. He's never seen his dad this way before. Karen's eyes never leave Plankton's. She can read his every move, his every tic. She's his anchor. Plankton's antennae start to quiver, his voice murmurs. "Must... the... yes... it... it's all..." Chip doesn't understand what's happening, but he knows his dad's in distress. Karen's voice is a soothing balm. "Just let it pass, Plankton," she whispers, her hand steady. She's seen this before; she knows. The words continue to tumble from Plankton's mouth, disjointed and disconnected. "The... the... it... has to be... must... yes..." Karen watches with a mixture of sadness and determined calm. She's been his rock through these episodes countless times, his safe place when the world gets too loud. But now, screen sees the fear in her son's eyes, the questions he's too afraid to ask. She knows it's time to explain. Plankton's antennae stop twitching as he squeezes the fidget squishy tightly. The words come out in spurts, a jumbled mess. "The... the... it's okay," he says, his voice barely above a murmur. "Just... it's okay." Chip watches his father, his mind racing. What's happening? Why is he saying these random words? Karen's eyes never leave Plankton's, her screen filled with understanding. "It's part of his autism," she whispers to Chip. "Sometimes when he's overwhelmed, words just tumble out." Chip stares at his dad. "But what does he mean, 'the it'?" Chip asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's not about us, Chip," Karen says, as more nonsensical words spill out. "The... it... no... must... yes..." Karen sighs. "It doesn't always make sense," she admits. "It's just his brain trying to process everything." Chip swallows, watching his dad with a mix of curiosity and concern of his neurodivergence. Plankton's eye is glazed over. "The... it... not... can't," he whispers to himself. Karen's hand is warm against his. Chip is watching, his curiosity piqued. He's never heard his dad's voice like this, so soft, so... lost. Plankton's tongue flaps in his mouth, his brain trying to form coherent thoughts, but all that comes out are jumbled syllables. "It's okay, Plankton," Karen soothes. "You're okay." The room feels like it's spinning around him, a whirlwind of sounds and colors. Plankton's eye is unfocused, but he feels their presence. "Tck tck," he says quietly, his head bobbing slightly. Karen's hand tightens around his. "Just let it come," she whispers. "D-Dad?" Chip stammers. Plankton doesn't respond. "It's okay," Karen assures Chip. "He's just... dealing. It's like he's stuck in a loop, trying to make sense of things. And he does that with sounds, sometimes. But he'll come back to us." Karen's seen this before, the way his mouth moves, forming sounds of wording that don't quite match up. The room is a symphony of Plankton's tics, the tapestry of his neurodivergence. "Tck tck," he murmurs, his eye flickering. Chip watches. He's never seen his dad so vulnerable. "Why does he do that?" Chip whispers, his voice shaking. Karen takes a deep breath, ready to explain. "Because it helps his brain cope with the world, Chip," Karen says. "Sometimes, his brain can get overwhelmed. And these little movements, these sounds, they help him find his calm." Chip's gaze remains on his father, who's still lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to the conversation happening around him. "But why can't he just... stop?" Chip's question is innocent, but it cuts deep. Karen looks at him with patience. "It's not something he can control," she explains. "It's like his brain's way of expressing itself." Chip nods, but the questions keep coming. "Does he even know he's doing it?" he asks, his voice low. Karen shrugs. "He's aware of his tics, but sometimes they just take over." She pauses, her gaze on Plankton, who's still lost in his own world. "It's like when you get really focused on a video game, and you don't notice anything else around you." Chip thinks about it, his mind racing with questions. "But what's the point of the sounds?" he asks. "Is he... will he even know we're here?" "Sometimes he does, sweetie. Sometimes he doesn't. But it's good to be here for him." Plankton's tics subside slightly. He's coming back. "It's like a... a pressure valve," Karen tries to explain. "When his brain feels too full, the tics and sounds help to release some of that... pressure." Plankton's antennae twitch again. He's aware of them now, watching him. Karen's gaze is soft. "It's just a sound he makes, Chip. It's not for us, it's for him to release tension. He may not even know he's doing it right now, nor may he later recall what's been said or happened." Chip nods, trying to understand. Plankton's eye finally focuses on them. "What's... what's going on?" Plankton's voice is groggy. Karen smiles gently. "You had an episode," she says. "Do you remember?" Plankton's antennae droop. "I don't know," he says. Karen nods. It's not unusual for him to forget. "Chip was worried about you," she adds. Plankton looks at his son, his heart heavy. "Chip grabbed my hand, and it was too much. I'm sorry," he says, his voice barely above a whisper as he puts the fidget squishy back. "It's okay," Chip says, his voice small. "I just..." But Plankton cuts him off. "Just leave me alone!" Karen sighs. This is the part she's always feared. The moment when Chip would find out, and Plankton's fear of losing him would spike. He's always been so good at hiding his autism, but now his son has seen it in full force. Chip takes a step back, his eyes wide. "Dad?" Plankton doesn't look at him. "Please, Chip," Plankton says, his voice sharp. "Just... just go." The sting of his words is like a slap in the face. Karen sees the hurt in Chip's screen, but she knows Plankton's just trying to regain control. Karen puts a hand on Chip's shoulder. "Let's give Dad some space," she whispers. But Chip's eyes are still glued to Plankton. "But I..." he starts. "Chip," she says firmly, "now's not the time." Plankton's body is still, his antennae drooping. He looks... broken. It's a sight that makes Karen's ache, but it's one she's seen before. Chip nods reluctantly, his gaze never leaving his father's. He takes a step back, his eyes still full of questions. Karen sits beside him. She knows he doesn't mean to push Chip away, that his fear of being seen as less than has always been his greatest burden. Plankton's tic starts again, his head nodding. "Tck tck," he says. Karen knows that for Plankton, it's completely normal for him to tic like this after such seizures. Chip watches, his curiosity melding with fear. Karen sighs. "It's just his brain, Chip," she says, her voice steady. "It's his way of coping. The tics are okay, and he might continue to tic for the rest of today." Plankton sighs. "Chip, you better not blabber about this to anyone," his voice is low and gruff. Karen nods understandingly. "He won't," she says, turning to Chip. "It's our little secret." "I won't," Chip whispers, watching Plankton's bobbing head. "It's a tic, Chip," Karen explains, her voice soft. "It's like when you have to scratch an itch that just won't go away." Plankton nods, his eye still unfocused. "It's something his body does when he's trying to calm down," she adds. "There's nothing wrong with it. The tics are with his head movements and his tongue clicking, which is how he tics." Chip stares at his dad. "Why does it... why does it happen?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper. Karen's eyes are filled with sorrow. "It's part of his autism," she says, her voice gentle. "When he's stressed or anxious, his brain sends mixed signals. And his body has these... involuntary responses." She takes a deep breath. "It's like... it's like his brain's doing a little dance to keep up. It's not in his antennae, nor his limbs. Only his head and sometimes mouth tics, being the jerks and sounds. It's something involuntary." "But why can't he just... not do it?" Chip asks, as Plankton's head continues to nod, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth. Karen's eyes are filled with patience. "It's not that simple, Chip," she says. "These tics are like... reflexes. You can't just turn them off. It's part of it."

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 5 (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 Plankton's nods become less frequent, his tongue clicks slower. "I don't... tck tck, I don't mean to be tck tck... to be like this," he whispers. "It's okay, Dad," Chip says. "I won't tell anyone." Karen smiles sadly. "You don't have to hide it, Plankton," she says. But Plankton looks away. "I can't help it," he murmurs. Chip's never seen his dad so lost, so vulnerable. "Dad, you can tell me anyth—" "No," Plankton snaps. "It's none of your business, Chip." Karen's eyes flash with sorrow, but she remains silent. She knows Plankton's pride. The tic starts again, his head jerking slightly. "Tck tck," he murmurs. Chip watches, his eyes wet with unshed tears. He doesn't understand why his dad is pushing him away. But Karen does. She's seen it before, Plankton's fear of being seen as weak, as different. "Chip," she says gently, "it's not something he can help. It's part of his autism. Sometimes, his brain just needs to... to tic. He's aware when it happens." The room is silent except for the faint click of Plankton's tongue. "But why?" he whispers, his voice cracking. "Why does his brain need to do that?" Karen looks at him with a sad smile. "It's his brain's way of communicating, Chip. Sometimes it just needs to... move, to make sounds. It's like his way of saying, 'We're ok, Plankton, you're here'." Chip watches his dad's head nod slightly. "But it looks so... painful." Plankton's eye finally meets his. "It's not painful, Chip," he says, his voice strained. "It's tck... tck it's none of your concern." Karen's eyes are filled with concern as she looks at Plankton, who's visibly tired. She knows he's trying to regain control, to keep his walls up. "It's okay, Plankton," she says. "Chip just wants to understand." "I don't want him to think I'm... tck tck, I don't want him to think I'm weird." The desperation in his voice mirrors the erratic movements of his head. "You're not weird, Dad," Chip says, his voice firm. "You're just... different." Karen nods. "That's right, Chip. And different is not wrong, it's just part of who your dad is." "You're the best dad ever." Plankton's head nods slower now, the tic subsiding. His eye flickers as he looks at his son, his antennae drooping. "Tck, tck," he whispers. "I just tck... tck I don't want Chip to tck, tck think I'm broken." "You're not broken, Dad," he says. "You're just... special." Karen swells with pride. That's her son, trying to find the right words, trying to comfort his father. Chip's hand reaches for his dad's, but Plankton flinches. The simple touch feels like fire against his skin. "Dad," Chip says, his voice full of concern. "Please, let me he--" But Plankton can't handle it. He jerks away. "No, Chip," he says, his voice tight with anxiety. "Your touch is tck... it's too much." Chip's eyes fill with tears. He's never felt so lost, so helpless. He just wants to comfort his dad, but his dad won't let him. "But..." Karen sighs, taking Chip's hand instead. "Your dad needs some space right now," she whispers. "He gets triggered by sudden movements and sounds, and your touch can be too much." Chip nods, his eyes brimming with tears. "But why doesn't he want me to help?" he asks. Karen looks at Plankton, who's lying down with his body twitching slightly. "Because his autism makes it hard for him to communicate how he's feeling," she explains. "Sometimes, his brain gets overwhelmed, and all he can do is tic." The room is quiet, the air thick with unspoken understanding. Karen knows Plankton's pain, his fear of being seen as less than. She knows his tics are his way of navigating a world that's too loud, too bright. And she knows Chip's hurt, his need to connect with his father in the only way he knows how. But Plankton's walls are up. His antennae twitch, his body still. He's retreated into his own mind, trying to find his calm. Karen watches, aching. She's the only one who truly gets him. She's seen his tics, his moments of overwhelm, his quiet battles. And she's always been there, his rock, his sanctuary. "Tck tck," Plankton murmurs, his tongue flicking against his teeth. Chip's eyes are wide with worry. "It's his way of trying to find his balance," she whispers. "Just let him be." Plankton's tic changes, his head bobbing again. "Tck tck tck," he murmurs. Karen can see the storm brewing in his eye, the internal struggle. "It's okay, Plankton," she whispers. "You're safe. Just let it out," she soothes. "It's okay." Chip watches, curiosity piqued. "What are those sounds, Mom?" he asks. Karen's eyes never leave Plankton's. "It's his brain's way of releasing pressure," she says. "Like when you hiccough, it just happens." "But why doesn't he say actual words?" Chip's question is filled with innocence, his mind trying to piece together the puzzle of his father's condition. "Sometimes, Chip, our brains can't find the right words, so it makes sounds instead," Karen explains. "It's like when you hum a tune without knowing why, it's just something that happens. It's his brain's way of talking without words," she says. "It's his autism." Plankton looks at the blanket and rubs his hand over it. Karen knows he's listening. Karen nods. "It's his way of saying he's okay," she says, her voice calm. "It's his brain's shorthand." Plankton's tics continue, his head bobbing, his antennae twitching. "Tck tck tck," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. Karen smiles sadly. "It's okay, Plankton," she whispers. "You don't have to explain." Plankton's body relaxes slightly. The tic subsides, his head still. He looks at Karen, his antennae drooping. "Thank y-you," he says, his voice filled with relief. The room is quiet, except for the soft click of his tongue. "It's... it's just..." he starts, his voice trailing off. Karen nods. "I know," she says. "It's your brain's way of talking to you." Plankton nods, somewhat absent mindedly. "It's like when you're trying to think of a word," Karen says, "but all that comes out is 'uh' or 'um'." Chip nods. Plankton's antennae twitch, his body still. "But these sounds," Chip says, "what do they mean?" Karen looks at Plankton, who's lost in his own world again. "They're just sounds," she says, her voice soft. "Like when you tap your foot to the beat of a song. It's his brain's way of keeping rhythm." "Tck tck tck," Plankton says, his voice a quiet murmur. Karen nods. "It's his brain's way of saying, 'I'm okay, Plankton.'" Chip's eyes widen. "But... why doesn't he just say it?" Karen's smile is sad. "Because his brain doesn't always work the same way ours does," she explains. "The sounds are his brain's language, his way of talking to itself." "But what about the... the random words?" Chip asks. Karen looks at Plankton, his antennae twitching slightly. "Those are called 'echolalia' and 'palilalia'," she says. "It's when he repeats words or phrases. Sometimes, it's to help him process what's happening. Other times, it's just his brain's way of filling the silence." Plankton's head nods slightly. Karen smiles. "Sometimes, it's just his brain playing back a something he's heard," she says. "Other times, it's like he's trying to find the right words, but they just don't come out right." Plankton's eye flickers. "Tck tck, yes, yes," he murmurs. Chip looks at his mom, his heart racing. "Does he know what he's saying?" he asks. Karen shrugs. "He's aware of it, Chip. It's just his way of... coping." The sounds change, morphing into a gentle hum. "Mmm mm," he stims. Chip looks at his dad, his eyes full of questions. "What's he doing now?" he asks. Karen smiles gently. "Sometimes, he'll make sounds that aren't words," she says. "It's his brain's way of soothing itself. Some call it 'stimming'," she explains. "It's a way for autistic people to find comfort, to self-soothe." Chip nods, his eyes on his dad. "Mm mm," Plankton whispers. Karen's hand finds Plankton's, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It's his way of saying, 'I'm ok, I'm here,'" she whispers. "It's his brain's way of letting him know he's safe." "Does everyone with autism do this?" Chip asks. Karen shakes her head. "No, sweetie," she says. "Everyone's autism is different." Plankton's humming turns into a soft, rhythmic "bub bub." Karen's smile widens. "It's like his brain's version of a lullaby," she says. Chip nods, his curiosity outweighing his fear. "But why does it change?" he asks. "Sometimes his brain needs different sounds to find its calm," Karen explains. "It's like how you might prefer one song over another when you're sad or upset. His brain is just choosing what it needs in the moment." Chip watches, his eyes glued to his dad's. "It's like he's talking to himself," Chip murmurs. Karen nods. "In a way, he is," she says. "He's reassuring himself that he's okay."

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 7 (𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ. sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ Suddenly, Plankton's mumbling becomes a torrent of unorganized wording. "Bubbles, bubbles, bubbles," he repeats, his voice rising and falling in an erratic pattern. Karen's grip on his hand tightens. "It's okay, Plankton," she whispers. "You're just talking to yourself." Chip's eyes widen in concern. "What's happening, Mom?" Karen's voice is calm. "It's his brain's way of processing stress," she says. "He's trying to find his calm." Plankton's body relaxes slightly, his tics slowing. "Bubbles, bubbles," Plankton murmurs, his eye flicking around the room. "Karen, Karen Plankton, Karen, Chip, tck tck tck." The words roll off his tongue like a wave, crashing against the silence. Karen nods. "It's his brain's way of categorizing," she says. "It's how he makes sense of the world." Chip's eyes are wide as he listens to the strange litany. "But why now?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen sighs. "Sometimes, stress brings out his 'stims' more," she explains. "And seeing him upset can be overwhelming for his brain." Plankton's antennae twitch erratically. "It's okay, Plankton," Karen whispers. "We're still here." Chip looks at his mom, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "It's okay, buddy," she says, her voice soothing. "Just let him be." Chip nods. Plankton's phrases shift again, now a jumble of nonsensical sounds and words. "Karen, Karen, bubbles, Chip, bubbles, tck tck tck." His body rocks slightly back and forth, his hand flapping against the blanket. "It's like he's trying to organize his thoughts," Karen says, her voice calm. "It's a form of self-regulation." Chip nods, trying to understand. "But it's so... random," he says. Karen smiles gently. "Karen, bubbles, tck tck, Chip, okay, okay." Plankton's eye darts around the room, as if searching for something he can't quite see. Karen's hand is steady on his shoulder. "It's okay," she repeats, her voice a soft lullaby. "You're safe." "Mom, what's he saying?" Chip whispers. Karen's eyes are filled with compassion. "He's just talking to himself," she explains. "It's his brain's way of sorting things out." Plankton's phrases change again. "Mo-mo number one, says I say, dun?" Karen's smile is sad. "It's his way of asking for reassurance," she says. "His brain's trying to make sense of the world." Chip nods, his mind racing to keep up with the changing words. "It's okay, Dad," he whispers, his voice trembling. "You're the best dad ever." Plankton's shakes ease slightly, his antennae still. Chip nods, trying to keep his voice steady. "It's okay, Dad," he says. "We're all here for you." Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye focusing on his son. "Bath," he says, his voice a mix of comfort and exhaustion. Karen nods. "He's just trying to find his words," she says. "It's part of his process." Plankton's hand stops moving, his antennae still. "Shs-shs-shs," he whispers. "Bb-bebe, hads." Chip's screen dart to Karen's. "What's he saying?" he whispers. Karen's expression is one of deep understanding. "It's a way of being kinda in his own little bubble," she explains. "His brain's way of interacting as he's in his own world, like daydreaming almost, but not necessarily thinking of any thing in particular. Like when you don't pay attention in class." Plankton's phrases change again, now a mix of words and sounds. "Wrap, tie knot, let, shwish shwish," he murmurs. Karen nods gently. "It's like his brain's doing a little dance," she says, "just to keep itself comfortable." Chip watches as his dad. "Can dad hear us right now?" he asks, his voice small. "Yes, he can," Karen says. "He's just focusing on verbally stimming." Plankton's phrases evolve. "Fwip fwip, splash, splash, oh so quiet, splish splash." Chip's eyes follow the patterns his dad's hand makes on the blanket. "It's okay, Plankton," Karen whispers. "You don't have to hide your sounds." Plankton's eye flutters slightly. Karen smiles at Chip. "It's his brain's way of creating a safe space," she says. "He's talking to his 'stims'. But I think he's getting tired, as sensory bombardment can take it's toll." The stimming came again. "Fweee." Karen's eyes never leave Plankton's. "It's ok, honey," she says, her voice steady. Plankton's antennae droop exhausted. "Tck tck tck, tck t---" "Do you need to sleep, Plankton?" Karen asks, her voice a gentle caress in the quiet room. Plankton's eye flits to her, then back to his patterns on the blanket. "It's okay if you do," she says, her tone soothing. "Sleep can help reset your brain. It's late." Plankton's stimming pauses, his body still. "Sleep," he murmurs. The word hangs in the air, a question wrapped in a sigh. "Yes," Karen nods. "Sleep." Karen stands, her movements slow and deliberate. "Let's get you comfy, Plankton," she says. He crawls under the blanket covers, now facing his pillow. Chip watches, his eyes full of uncertainty. "Does he always do this?" he asks. Karen shakes her head, her voice low. "Sometimes, when his brain's had too much, it just needs to reset." She tucks Plankton in, her movements careful and precise. "It's like his brain's battery is running low, and sleep is how it recharges." Plankton's body relaxes slightly as Karen's voice lulls him. "K-Karen," he whispers, his antennae slowly drooping. "It's okay, Plankton," she says. "You can go to sleep." The room is filled with a tension that only Chip seems to feel. "Sleep," Plankton echoes, his voice fading. "Sleep." Chip watches his dad, his heart heavy with the weight of understanding. He's never seen his hero so vulnerable. "Mom," he whispers, "What if I do something that makes it worse?" Karen turns to him, her eyes full of love. "You won't," she says. "But if you're ever unsure, just ask me or him. We're in this together. Now, you get some rest yourself; we'll need it after such a day. Tomorrow we can see if he's back to usual and go from there. Goodnight, Chip.."

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 9 (𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ. sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ Their laughter mingles with the breeze, the creaking of the swings a comforting rhythm. For a moment, everything feels normal, it's just them. But then two playfully boisterous kids come by. Their energy is infectious, but for Plankton, it's too much. He flinches at their sudden approach, nervously gripping the swing's chains tightly. The two kids laugh, their giggles piercing the calm of the playground. They run past, their eyes locked on the baby swing, their arms outstretched. Chip watches. The swing squeaks as the children pass it side to side to each other carelessly, when the baby swing hits Plankton, jolting him. Plankton's eye rolls back, his body going rigid. "Dad!" Chip cries, his voice echoing in the sudden silence. Karen's head snaps up, her eyes wide. Plankton's swing stops, his grip on the chains loosening. He's in the middle of an absence seizure, his brain briefly disconnecting from the world around him. Chip jumps off his swing, his knees hitting the ground with a thud. The two boisterous kids stop their laughter as Chip and Karen catch Plankton's body. "Dad?" Chip whispers, his voice shaking. Plankton's limp. "It's okay, Chip," Karen says. "Just hold him." They go to the ground, supporting Plankton's form between them. The kids hover, curiosity in their eyes. "What's wrong with him?" one asks. "He's okay," Karen says, her voice firm but gentle. "He just needs a minute." Plankton's body twitches slightly, his eyelid fluttering. "Dad?" The kids' curiosity turns to concern, their laughter replaced by quiet whispers. One of them tugs at their mother's sleeve, pointing at the scene. The mother's expression shifts from playful to worried. She approaches them cautiously. "Is he ok? Should we ca--" Karen shakes her head, cutting her off. "No thank you, but we've got it. He has autism. He'll be okay." The mother nods, her eyes softening with understanding and slowly backing away with her kids, giving them space. Plankton's body slowly unfurls, his antennae twitching back to life. Chip holds his breath. Plankton blinks, his eye coming back into focus. "Chip?" he says, his voice slurred. Karen nods. "You had a seizure, Plankton," she says. "You're okay now." Plankton's face relaxes, his antennae drooping slightly. "Tired," he murmurs. Chip's eyes never leave his dad's. "You scared me," he admits. Plankton looks at his son, his gaze filled with apology. "I-I'm s-sorry, buddy," he says. "I didn't mean t-to." Karen wraps an arm around Plankton's shoulders. "Let's sit for a bit," she suggests. They move to the bench, Plankton's legs still wobbly as the sit down on the bench. Plankton's hands start to move, almost subconsciously. He's stimming again, waving his flapping hands. Chip watches. He's seen this now. He understands now. Karen's hand rests on Plankton's back, her thumb making small circles. "It's okay, honey," she whispers. Plankton's hands flap faster in small, repetitive motions. It's his way of creating his own rhythm, his own harmony amidst the noise. Chip watches, his screen filled with a mix of fear and fascination. "It's his brain's way of saying 'I'm alright'," Karen explains, her voice low. "He's okay." Plankton's hands slow, the stimming becoming less frantic. Karen's eyes never leave his, her expression a mix of concern and understanding. "You've had a big morning," she says softly. "Ye-ye-yes," he stammers. Karen nods. Plankton's antennae droop, his hand stilling. Chip notices the quiet that settles over his dad. "You wanna go home?" he asks, his voice small. Plankton nods, his eye focused on a spot in the distance. Karen stands, helping him to his feet. "Okay, let's go," she says. The walk to the car feels longer than the journey to the playground. Chip notices the way his dad's steps are smaller, his movements more deliberate. It's as if he's retreating into himself, his brain needing a moment to recover. In the backseat, Plankton fidgets with the seat belt, strumming it as Chip sits next to him. The car's engine hums to life, Karen glancing back at them through the rearview mirror, her eyes filled with love and concern. "Talk box," Plankton says to himself. He's retreating. Chip looks confused. "Talk box?" He looks at his dad. "Dad, wh-" "Chip," Karen interjects, her eyes in the mirror. "Let him be. Remember yesterday. Sometimes he just needs to talk to himself. You can sit with him, but it can make him upset when you comment on it as if it's strange. He barely even knows he's doing it." Chip nods, trying to remember the conversation they had. Plankton's mumbling turns to a murmur, a low hum that's barely audible over the car's engine. "Fluffy, blue, circle," he says, his eye fixed on the passing scenery. The words are nonsensical, but Chip tries to keep his voice calm. "It's okay, Dad," he says. Karen glances at him in the mirror, her eyes full of pride. "He's okay," she reassures Chip. "He's just talking himself through it." Plankton's hand starts to move again, tapping the seat in a steady rhythm. "Pip," he whispers. "Flibbity, floppety, jib." Chip's eyes are glued to his father, his curiosity piqued by this window into his internal world. "Blip, blup, bebop," Plankton mumbles, his antennae twitching with each syllable. Chip's mind whirrs with questions but his mom's advice from last night echoes in his head. He watches as his dad's hand taps out the rhythm of his thoughts on the car door. "Mom, is he okay?" Chip asks, his voice low. Karen nods. "He's just working through it," she says. "It's his brain's way of talking to itself." Plankton's murmurs grow quieter as they drive, his antennae drooping slightly. Karen glances in the rearview mirror, her screen filled with warmth. "It's his brain's way of processing thoughts, turning them into words and sounds." Chip nods, his gaze never leaving Plankton's face. "It's like he's got a little world in there," he murmurs. Karen smiles. "Exactly," she says. "And those words are his way of navigating it." Plankton taps on the door. "Dibbly. Pling," he says. Karen nods. "You're safe." Plankton's hand stops tapping, his antennae still. "Safe," he echoes, his voice a whisper. Chip's eyes are wide, his curiosity piqued by his father's quiet self-talk. "It's his way of reassuring his brain," Karen explains. "It's like he's saying 'it's okay' to himself." Chip nods. Karen's screen finds Chip's. "You're doing great," she mouths. The car's movement lulls Plankton into silence. His antennae droop, his lids growing heavy. Chip notices the change, his heart aching. "Dad?" he whispers. "Tired," he says. The hum of the engine becomes a white noise, their world narrowing down to the car's confines. Plankton's breathing deepens, his body slumping slightly against the seat. Karen's eyes flick to the mirror, seeing Chip's concern. "It's okay," she says softly. "He's just getting sleepy." In his own world, Plankton whispers to himself. "Flip, flap, jibber." His eye closed, but his mind races. Chip watches, fascinated by the silent conversation. "What's he saying?" he asks Karen. She smiles, keeping her eyes on the road. "He's just talking to his stims," she says. "Talking to his stims?" Chip repeats, trying to understand. "It's like he's having a conversation," Karen explains, "but it's not with us. It's with his brain. It's his way of sorting things out." "Does he know what he's saying?" Chip asks. "Not always," Karen says, keeping her eyes on the road. "Sometimes it's just sounds, other times it's fragments of words or phrases. It's his way of finding calm in the chaos." Plankton's whispers continue, "Bloop. Squish. Karen." Chip looks at his mom. "Does he know he's saying your name?" Karen smiles. "Sometimes he does. It's his way of reassuring himself that he's not alone." Chip nods. Chip can't help but feel a sense of wonder at his dad's unique way of dealing with the world. "Blibber, babble, wonka," Plankton says, his voice softer now. Chip looks out the window, his thoughts racing. He wonders if he'll ever understand what it's like inside his dad's head. "Is he okay?" he asks again, his voice barely above a whisper. "He's fine, Chip," Karen says, her voice calm. "This is just his way." The words keep coming, a steady stream of nonsense syllables that somehow make sense to Plankton. "Flitter, flatter, snicker-snack," he murmurs. Karen's eyes are on the road, but her love is with Plankton, listening to his self-soothing symphony. She knows that in his own way, he's trying to find peace.

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 3 (𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴄᴀʟ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴀ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏꜱᴇꜱ. sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ The room feels smaller, the air heavier. Karen can see the turmoil in Plankton's eye, the fear of rejection and misunderstanding. "It's okay, Plankton," she says, squeezing his hand. "You're not alone." But Chip's eyes are filled with a mix of confusion and concern, reaching out tentatively. Plankton flinches. "Dad," Chip says, his voice small. "What's w---" "It's nothing you need to worry about!" Plankton snaps, his voice sharp. The words sting Chip, and he takes a step back. "Chip, your dad's just... tired," Karen says quickly, trying to smooth things over. But the damage is done. Plankton's always been so good at hiding his autism, but now it's out in the open. "But, Dad..." Chip starts. "I SAID, IT'S NOTHING!" Plankton's outburst echoes in the room, his antennae twitching wildly. Karen sees the fear in Chip's screen. She knows Plankton meant no harm, but the shame he feels is palpable. "It's ok, Chip," she says, trying to keep her voice steady. "Dad just needs a moment." Chip nods, his gaze flickering between his parents. He's never seen his dad like this before, so... vulnerable. He takes another step back, giving them space. Plankton's head jerks to the side again, a tic, the neurodivergence that Karen's seen often, but Chip's only just noticing it. Karen sees the fear in Chip's screen. "It's okay, Chip," she says again, her voice a lifeline. "It's just his body's way of dealing with the aftermath." Plankton's never wanted Chip to see this side of him, the side that's not so put-together. "Why does he do that?" he asks, his voice still trembling. Karen takes a deep breath, ready to explain. "It's called a tic, Chip. Sometimes people with autism have these small movements they can't control. It's just his brain's way of... releasing energy. It's like a reflex." Plankton feels exposed, raw. This isn't how he wanted his son to find out. "Dad?" Chip says, his voice tentative. Plankton's antennae stop their wild dance. "I tck tck... I'm okay," he whispers, his voice barely audible. Chip's screen filled with unshed tears, aching for his father. He doesn't understand, but he can see the pain in Plankton's eye. "You don't have to hide.." Karen's voice is a gentle caress. "It's just who your dad is, Chip. He's always been like this." Plankton nods, his gaze meeting hers. They share a silent understanding, a bond formed from years of supporting each other through his episodes. Chip looks at Plankton, his eyes searching for any resemblance of the dad he knows. But all he sees is a man with a secret he's carried alone for so long. "But wh-" "It's called 'masking'," Karen says gently. "Your dad's been doing it his whole life." The word hangs in the air, foreign yet somehow fitting. Plankton's always been so good at pretending, so adept at hiding his true self. Chip feels like he's peering into a part of his dad's soul that's always been veiled. "But why, Dad?" His voice is barely above a whisper as he reaches for his hand. Plankton's antennae quiver under the weight of his son's touch. He's never liked the feeling of anything on him, and is only comfortable with Karen's touch. The tactile sensitivity is a part of his autism that makes certain textures and sensations unbearable. Chip's grip is firm, and Plankton flinches away from him. Karen notices. She knows how much Plankton struggles with the simple act of being touched by anyone but her. But Chip grabs Plankton's hand again, unyielding. Plankton's antennae spike with discomfort, his skin crawling under the pressure. He tries to pull away, but his son's grip is tight. "Chip, it's okay," Karen soothes. "Dad's just... sensitive." But Chip's eyes are pleading. He doesn't understand, doesn't know that his simple touch can set off a sensory overload for his father. And so he holds on tighter. "Dad..." Chip starts. Plankton whimpers. Karen's seen this so many times before. How Plankton's body reacts to the slightest touch, how his skin can feel like it's on fire, his brain a whirlwind of chaos. But this time, it's Chip's hand, and it's uncharted territory. Plankton's antennae spasm, his eye squeezed shut. The room feels too hot, too loud. He tries to focus. He wants to scream, to shake his son off, but he knows he can't. Yet Chip's hand won't let go. Karen sees the panic in Plankton's eye, the way his body tenses like a coil about to spring. She places her hand over Chip's, trying to gently pry his fingers from Plankton's. "Chip, sweetie, let go," she says softly. "Your dad's just a bit... overwhelmed right now." Plankton flaps his other hand in a stim, which Chip doesn't understand. So he also grabs his other hand, too. "Dad, please talk to me," Chip begs, his voice shaking. The sensation of Chip's hands on his is unbearable, like sandpaper against skin. He wants to scream, but his voice is trapped in a body that feels like it's not his. "I... " he gasps, his eye darting. Karen's screen is filled with sorrow as she sees the panic in her husband's gaze. "Chip, let go," she says, her voice firm yet gentle. "It's okay. Your dad just needs some space." But Chip's grip tightens. "No; I won't leave you," he declares, his screen wet with tears. Plankton's unable to take anymore, but Chip's grip is to strong for him to pry away from. Plankton can't breathe, the pressure of his son's hands on him too much to bear. But Chip doesn't understand. He doesn't realize his touch is causing his dad pain. Suddenly Plankton's legs buckle onto the bed. Karen's eyes widen as she sees Plankton's distress, and she quickly takes action. "Chip, let him go!" she says more urgently, placing her hands on Chip's shoulders. Chip finally releases Plankton's hands, looking from his mother to his father with uncertainty. Plankton gasps for air, his antennae drooping as Chip finally lets go, loosening his grip on Plankton's hands. The room is quiet except for the harsh sound of Plankton's ragged breaths. Karen's seen this hundreds of times, but it never gets easier. "It's okay, Plankton," she murmurs. "You're okay, love." Plankton is a maelstrom of uncontrollable tics. His eye blinks rapidly, and Chip's never seen his dad like this.

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 8 (𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ. sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ The next morning, Chip goes back into his parent's bedroom to check on them, especially his dad. The room is filled with the soft glow of early morning light, Karen is already waking up. Plankton's sleeping, his snores a gentle reminder of his presence. Chip's eyes find his dad's hand, still twitching slightly under the covers. Karen notices him watching and sits up, stretching. "Morning," she says. "How did you sleep?" Chip shrugs. "I kept thinking about Dad," he admits. Karen nods, her eyes knowing. "It can be tough seeing someone you love go through that," she says. Plankton stirs, his antennae twitching slightly. "It's his way of dreaming," she whispers. Karen stands and walks over to Plankton's side of the bed, her hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Plankton," she says gently. "It's morning." Plankton's eye opens, blinking slowly. "Nngh," he murmurs. "You okay?" Karen asks. Plankton's antennae twitch once, twice, but no more tics follow. He nods, his body still. "Tired," he says, his voice groggy. Karen smiles. "That's okay," she says. "You had a big night." Chip watches from the doorway, his eyes on his dad. Karen helps Plankton sit up, his body moving with the sluggishness of someone just woken from a deep sleep. "Chip's here," she says, nodding towards the doorway. Plankton's antennae perk up, his eye searching for his son. "Hey buddy," he says, his voice still thick with sleep. Chip steps into the room, but now, Plankton seems so... normal. "Hi, Dad," he says, his voice tentative. Plankton smiles, though it looks forced. "You ok?" Chip asks. "Tired," Plankton says, his voice still a little slurred. "But okay." Karen watches, relief etched in her eyes. "Sleep helped," she murmurs. Plankton nods. "Yeah," he says. "I'm okay." Chip's eyes are fixed on his dad, still for the first time since the night before. He sees the worry in Plankton's gaze, the way his antennae droop slightly. "I didn't mean to make you upset," Chip says, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen nods. "But it's important to understand that his tics are personal," she adds gently. "They're his way of coping, and mimicking them can make him feel self-conscious." Plankton's eye meets Chip's, his gaze filled with a mix of exhaustion and embarrassment. "It's okay, Dad," Chip says, his voice earnest. "I just want to know how to help." Karen's hand rests on Plankton's back. "You don't have to explain," she says gently. "But maybe you'd like to tell Chip a little about what happened?" Plankton sighs, his antennae drooping. He looks at Chip, his gaze uncertain. "It's okay," Chip says, his voice soft. "I just want to understand." Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye searching his wife's screen for guidance. Karen nods encouragingly. "Sometimes," Plankton begins, his voice raspy, "my brain gets too... much." He says. "Too much what?" Chip asks, his curiosity piqued despite his fear. "Too much everything," Plankton murmurs. His voice trails off, his hand absently playing with the blanket. Karen nods, understanding flickering in her gaze. "It's like his brain's got too many tabs open," she says, her voice gentle. "It needs a break to refresh." She looks at Chip, then back at Plankton. "How about we go drive to that new park across town today?" she suggests. Chip's eyes light up. "The one with a playground and the swings?" Karen smiles. "That's the one." She knew Plankton enjoys swinging. They pile into the car with anticipation. Chip buckles his seatbelt, his gaze flicking in between his parents. Karen starts the car. Plankton sits in the passenger seat. Karen's eyes meet his in the rearview mirror. "You okay, hon?" she asks. Plankton nods, his antennae still. The car's engine purrs to life, and they pull out of the driveway. Karen's hand rests on the gear stick, her grip firm but gentle. The road unfolds before them, a promise of a new day. Chip watches the world go by, his thoughts racing. He glances at Plankton, his antennae still. "You sure you're okay, Dad?" he asks. Plankton nods, his eye flicking to the rearview mirror. "Yea," he murmurs, but there's a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm okay." As they finally pull into the parking lot of the new park, Chip sees the playground materialize through the window. "Look, Dad," he says, his voice filled with excitement. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his eye lighting up, his face breaking into a smile. Karen helps Plankton out of the car, her hand steady on his arm. The park is alive with the chatter of children and the distant laughter of parents. Chip runs ahead, the promise of swings and slides too much to resist. The playground looms ahead, a metal and plastic oasis of joy. Chip's heart thumps with excitement. "Look, Dad," he says, pointing at the swings. Plankton's smile widens, his antennae perking up. "Yeah," he says, his voice a little stronger. "Let's go!" They make their way over, the gravel crunching underfoot. Plankton sits on the swing, his legs dangling as he sways forward and back. Chip joins his dad. Chip watches, his eyes full of wonder. This is his dad, his hero, in a moment of pure joy, and it's beautiful. This is the father he always knew. Karen sits on the bench. Plankton starts to pump his legs, his eye focused on the horizon, his tics absent. Chip also swings by him on the other swing.

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

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?"

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 21 Plankton went into the Krusty Krab, oblivious to the customer's subtle different ways they look at him. They've all seen the post, even though he's not even aware of it. Some stifled laughter, some pitied, some even admired as he came in. Plankton didn't think anything odd, until a person, instead of running into him, stops short. "Oh, hey! Sorry, you go ahead Plankton." Plankton looked up to find the owner of said voice to step aside to let him by. Huh. He goes to steal as usual, but another smiles at him with sympathy. "How's it going, Plankton?" They ask, their tone kind but with an underlying curiosity. Plankton freezes, his antennas waving in confusion. "I-I'm fine," he stammers, his usual quick-wittedness nowhere to be found. He's never been talked to like this before. He glances around, noticing more people giving him odd looks. Customers who usually look at him with disgust when he'd wreak havoc, actually seemed kind. He tries to focus on his mission, but the whispers and stares are distracting him. He's not used to being the center of positive attention. His brain, still adjusting to the calmness of the morning, struggles to process the change in the environment. As he's about to grab the secret ingredient, Mr. Krabs, the Krabby Patty's creator, calls out to him. "Plankton, what are ye up to?" His voice is not the usual snarl of annoyance but rather, one of genuine concern. His nemesis seems not so mad today. Plankton, caught off guard, drops the bottle he's holding, his antennae waving frantically. "J-just... just looking," he stammers. Mr. Krabs approaches, his eyes softening. "Lookin' good, Plankton," he says. "How's the family?" The sudden friendliness throws Plankton off his usual scheme. "T-they're good," he replies as he tries to understand the shift in dynamic. Mr. Krabs nods. "Can't say I understand, but I see you're still giving it your all. That's the Bikini Bottom spirit!" Plankton's antennae quiver with confusion. "I'm not following?" Mr. Krabs nods. "Aye, Plankton" he says matter-of-factly. "Ye got a right to be proud of how ye handle everything, frenemy. If ya ever need a break, don't ya hesitate to tell me." Plankton's eye widens, his mind racing. He doesn't know how to process this. His enemy has never talked to him like this before. He's used to anger, to sarcasm, but this... this was different. He nods, not trusting his voice to speak. Mr. Krabs pats him on the back. "Now, get back home," he says, his voice still kind. "I'll still keep an eye out for ya, okay?" He says, as he picks up the bottle. As Plankton goes to leave, a random kid goes up to him, her eyes curious. "Are you okay?" She asks, her voice kind, not the usual taunts he's grown accustomed to. "Oh, and do you snore?" Plankton's antennae wave in surprise, his usual snappy comeback stifled by his confusion. "I-I don't know," he says, his voice sharp. "But why are you talking to me like that?" The little girl smiles, her eyes innocent. "Because my brother's like you," she says. Plankton remains confused. "What do you mean?" He asks, his antennae waving slightly. The little girl giggles. "I know you have a special brain," she explains, her voice filled with wonder. "And my dad snores when he's really tired. Like in the car," she adds, somewhat mischievous. Plankton's antennae wave as he tries to comprehend her odd statements, his cheeks turning a slight shade of pink. "Special?" The little girl nods. "Yeah, like my brother. He has a disability too!" Plankton's antennae twitch. "I'm not- WHAT?" He falters. The little girl nods again, her expression placid. "Yeah, he's fallen asleep in the car before too! You looked so peaceful in that picture," she says, oblivious to the chaos she's just unknowingly caused in Plankton's mind. "What picture?" He asks. The girl points to a phone in her mother's hand, the post still on the screen. "That one," she says. Plankton's heart sinks as he realizes his son has posted a picture of him, asleep on his shoulder. He also reads the caption and sees Karen put a like. Humiliation and anger swirl within him. Now, everyone knows. How could they?

22️⃣

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

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."

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 24 The operating center is a blur of white and sterile smells as they walk in. Chip's eyes quickly adjust to the bright lights, looking for any sign of his dad. They're met by a nurse, who leads them back to the recovery room. Sandy comes in and saw Plankton, still unconscious, surrounded by beeping machinery. His antennae are still, a stark contrast to the usual flurry of movement. Karen's sitting by his side, holding his hand, looking tired but relieved as Sandy lets Chip come in as the nurse smiles at them, but he's focused on seeing his dad. Chip notices his dad's mouth. Plankton's tongue barely lolls out slightly to where his bottom lip is. It's the first thing that catches his eye, other than the red gums where the wisdom teeth have been taken out. Chip's eyes widen, and he takes a step back. "It's okay," Karen says, her voice soothing. "They had to keep his mouth open like that for the surgery." Chip can't help but stare, his heart racing. He's never seen Plankton so still, so... helpless. It's a stark contrast to his usual antics, to his endless plotting and scheming. Now, his dad's the one who's been silenced. He tries to shake off the fear, reminding himself that Plankton's just asleep. The nurse notices their unease and smiles gently at them. "He's doing well," she says, nodding towards Plankton. "We're just about to remove the IV now." With a swift, practiced movement, she carefully takes out the needle, her gloved hands moving quickly yet delicately. Plankton's arm barely twitches in response, his sleep deep. The nurse tapes a cotton ball to his arm where the IV was, then wraps it in a snug bandage, her movements methodical. Karen watches, her heart racing, feeling like an outsider in this medical world that's so foreign to their usual life. "It's okay," the nurse says, noticing the tension. "He's going to be just fine." She turns to Plankton and gently lifts his eyelid, checking his pupil's reaction before closing it again. "Looks like he's still under," she mutters, then turns to Karen. "He'll be out for a bit longer, but let's get gauze ready before he wakes up." Karen nods. Chip watches as the nurse unwraps a piece of gauze, his mind racing with questions about the recovery process. Sandy squeezes his shoulder reassuringly. The nurse gently inserts the gauze into Plankton's mouth, her movements precise and careful. His tongue is back in his mouth. The white cotton fills the void where his wisdom teeth were. Chip then sees blood on her gloves when she pulls them out, his heart skipping a beat. "It's normal," Sandy whispers, noticing his reaction. "It's just a little bleeding. It'll stop soon. And he's gonna be numb, so he won't feel much." The nurse nods. "She is right. The gauze is to help stop the bleeding, and it's common after wisdom teeth surgery." Karen's eyes are glued to Plankton's face, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath. She swallows hard, her throat dry. "Thank you," she murmurs to the nurse, who nods understandingly. Chip stands by his mom's side, his gaze flitting between her and his dad. He feels awkward, unsure how to act around his unconscious father. Plankton's usually so full of life, so... Plankton. Drool is forming at the corner of his mouth, his antennae still. The nurse finishes wrapping the gauze. "Ok," she says, her voice soothing. "You can talk to him if you want. He might not hear you, but it can be comforting." Chip steps closer to the bed, his heart thumping against his chest. He looks down at his dad, so still and peaceful, and feels a wave of anxiety. "Dad?" He whispers, his voice shaky. "You okay?" There's no response. Plankton's chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, his breathing deep and even. Chip's eyes well up, a mix of fear and love. He's never seen his dad like this before, not even during his seizures. This is different. This is a kind of vulnerability that he isn't used to. He reaches out a tentative hand, touching his father's arm lightly. "It's okay, Dad," he whimpers. Chip feels a tear slip down his cheek. "Wake up, Dad," he whispers, his voice barely above a mumble. "Please wake up." Plankton remains still. Chip backs up, feeling his stomach churn. Sandy frowns. "You okay, Chip? Karen, Chip's not looking so go—" But Chip is already at the trash can, his body heaving. Sandy rushes over, her eyes wide as he retches. "It's okay," Karen whispers from beside the bed, her hand still clutching Plankton's. "Chip, I'm so sorry. I know it's hard. Your dad won't be like this forever. It'll be okay." Chip nods, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The nurse takes the trash out before she returns back with wet wipes for Chip. He takes them gratefully, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Thanks," he mumbles. The nurse nods. "Now, Mr. Plankton will most likely wake up feeling pretty groggy and disoriented," she says, turning her attention back to Plankton. "But it's all part of the recovery process." Karen nods, her throat tight. She's heard this before, but with his autism, she can't help but worry how Plankton will react to waking up in such an unfamiliar environment. The nurse sees her concern and gives her a reassuring smile. "We're used to this. We've got everything under control."

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

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."

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 26 The nurse checks his vitals, then looks at the family. "He's going to be fine," she reassures them. "This is normal. Just keep talking to him." Sandy nods. "Plankton what do you recall?" Plankton's eye flickers open again. "I... I wuz... it wuz... scawy! Buh feelth wike a melting gill sheesh san witch floating. Karen thpinned thoo! Thpun awound.." Karen looked intrigued. "I was spinny?" She asked him. "Yesh," Plankton nods. "Youw wiz." He tried to sit up again. Sandy couldn't help but laugh harder. "Looks like you had quite the adventure, Plankton." He nods, his antennae bobbing. "I di'n't even hafe tho weave de chaw fo' de rollercoatheth," he mumbles, his voice still slurred. The nurse checks his gauze and nods. "Everything's going as planned," she says. "He's just feeling the after-effects of the anesthesia." Plankton tries to focus on the three figures before him. "Youwre aww... fuzzy," he murmurs, his voice muffled by the gauze. "Nurse?" The nurse's smile widens. "Yes, Mr. Plankton?" "I had a mask," he slurs. "I wath... thwimming wif... I din't floth my teef?" He giggles uncontrollably at the thought. "Ith thweemed wif... I dunno? I forgot to floth yestewday. Sho thad can'th be wight.." The nurse and Karen share an amused glance, while Chip tries to keep a straight face. "It's okay, Plankton," Karen says, her voice trembling with laughter. "You're okay. You're just a little loopy right now. Let it run its course," she says with a smile as Plankton notices the bandage on his hand. "Oooh, accessowry?" Plankton asks, staring at the bandage where the IV was removed, his eye squinting in confusion. "I din't member, how I geth thish?" Karen chuckles, wiping away a tear from her eye. "You had surgery, sweetie. They had to give you something to make you sleep through it, the IV." Plankton's not following. "I'vth? Whath's an I'vth?" The nurse's laugh is gentle. "It's a tube, Mr. Plankton. It helped you sleep." Plankton nods slowly, still confused. "A tube? Whath tube? I din't thee any tube.." Karen's smile widens. "You had it in your arm," she says, pointing. Plankton looks down, his eye still unfocused. "Oh," he says, his voice faint. "I din't member thad. Wheh dith thish tube thingy happn’ nurse? Karen, member the mask?" The nurse nods. "You were given a mask with gas to help you sleep," she explains. "And then we moved to the IV after that. You're going to be a little out of it for a while, but that's normal." Plankton processes the information. "Oh," he says, his voice slightly clearer. "Thath's why I feelth wike I'vth been hith by a party balloon filled wifth... wather?" He giggles, his cheeks turning pink. "I don't wike balloonth. They pop loud." Chip can't help but smile, seeing his dad in this state. It's like watching a child discover the world for the first time, all over again. "You're okay, Dad," he says, his voice filled with affection as Sandy goes to hug Plankton. But Plankton flinches, his antennae shooting up. "No huggles!" He says, his voice panicked. "I'm thtick!" He tries to push her away, but his movements are slow and clumsy. Sandy pulls back, understanding. "It's okay, Plankton," she says. "We're just happy to see you. And you're not sick, silly!" Chip watches, his heart warming at Sandy's gentle tone. It's clear she's learning too, adapting to Plankton's quirks. Plankton's eye finally focuses on her. "Oh, wight," he says, his voice still slurred. "Ish thcared? I'm mawwied to Karen and she woffth meeeeeee!" This sets off another wave of laughter. "We know, Plankton," Karen says, trying to keep a straight face. "But you're okay now. No need to be scared. Chip was a bit scared though," she adds, nudging their son with her elbow. "But he's brave for you." Plankton looks at Chip, his antennae drooping. "Whewe's Chip? Can, can shay hi? Shay hi to Chip?" Chip leans in, his laughter subsiding. "Hi, Dad," he says gently. "I'm right here." Plankton's antennae wave in recognition. "Chip! Thpuny Chip!" He slurs, his eye widening. "Shay, shay hi, Chip?" Chip nods, his smile soft. "Hi, Dad." Plankton laughs. "Hi Chip!" He says, his voice still slurred. "Youw... wookth... so... biggew!" He tries to sit up, but Chip gently pushes him back down. "Easy Dad," he says. "You got stitches. We don't want to pop those stitches, or—" But Plankton's antennae drop instantly. "Stitchesh?" He says, his voice filled with fear. "Stitchesh thurtth?" He starts to panic, his body tensing. The nurse quickly intervenes. "Mr. Plankton, no, no," she soothes. "Chip, we gave your dad strong but dissolving sutures! They're specially made for patients with a history of seizures and special needs. They're not like regular sewing stitches. He'll be fine." But Plankton's fear has taken over, and his single eye starts to water. "I don't wike stitchesh," he mumbles, his voice shaking. "Karen pwease, no stitchesh!" Karen's heart breaks seeing her husband so upset. She takes his hand again. "Plankton, no. You don't have stitches that hurt," she says, her tone gentle and firm. "They used special ones that dissolve on their own. Remember we talked about this befo—" But Plankton's fear isn't easily soothed. He starts to hyperventilate, his single eye wide with panic. "Karen, Karen, no stitchesh! No stitchesh!" His antennae are quivering, and his body is tense. Chip swallows hard, his hands clenching into fists at his side. Karen's eyes fill with tears, and she quickly stands up. "Chip, Sandy, I need you to go wait outside for a moment," she says, her voice shaking. "Let me talk to him alone." Sandy nods, her own concern etched on her face, and gently guides Chip out of the recovery room. "Let's get some air," she says, leading him to the waiting area. Karen and the nurse turn to Plankton. "Plankton," Karen says, her voice calm yet firm, as she sits on the edge of the bed, her hands gripping his. "Look at me. Look at me." Plankton's eye is teary, his breathing quick and shallow. "You're safe," she whispers. "You don't have the stitches that hurt. Chip didn't know about the dissolving ones, that's why he said that. But I know, and you know, because we talked about it. Remember?" Plankton's antennae quiver as he tries to focus on her words, his body slowly relaxing. "Ditholvish..." he mumbles, his voice small and scared. "No stitchesh? No popping!" Karen nods, her own eyes filling with tears. "No stitches that pop, love," she says. "You're okay. You're safe." She holds his hand tighter, feeling his fear dissipate slowly. "Remember the plan? The one we made together?" Plankton's antennae twitch, and he nods slightly, his breathing easing. "Yeth," he says, his voice weak. "Dotholvish stitchesh." The nurse steps in, her voice calm and soothing. "Mr. Plankton, your wife's right. We used dissolving ones. We just want you to be careful because of the pain can be worse if you jostle too much." Plankton's antennae wave slightly, his expression still fearful. Karen nods. "We talked about it, Plankton. Remember the special plan?" She whispers, her eyes filled with love and understanding. "You have to stay calm and let the medicine work. No stitches to pop. No pain like that. We discussed it before, right? Now, let's get ready to go home!" Plankton's antennae still, his breathing steadies. He nods slowly. "Home?" He slurs, his mind still fuzzy from the anesthesia. "I wath... I wath thcared of stitchesh." Karen's smile is relieved, her eyes glistening with tears. "You're safe, Plankton. We're going home soon. Ready to go?" She strokes his cheek. Plankton's antennae wave in acknowledgment, his single eye focusing on hers. "Home," he repeats her. "Yeth." The nurse nods, satisfied with his response. "Alright, Mr. Plankton; let's get you into a wheelchair!" With the nurse's help, Plankton is transferred to the chair, his legs dangling over the edge. "It's just to get you to your car." Plankton nods, his eye still a bit glazed over, but his body more cooperative now. His antennae wave slightly as he tries to sit up straighter.

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

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.

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 28 The home's warmth envelops them as they enter, Plankton's eye fully closing. "Bed," he mumbles into Karen. "Wan' bed." Karen laughs. "You can do i---" But Plankton's head droops again, snores now echoing through the house. She sighs, her smile never leaving her face. "Come on," she whispers, half carrying him toward the bedroom. "You're almost there. Wakey-wakey," Karen coos. Plankton's eye opens a slit. "Heh?" "Dad," Chip says. "You need to stay awake a bit longer." They manage to get to the bedroom, his legs dragging. Karen helps him onto the bed, his head rolling to the side. "Bed," he says, his voice barely a murmur. "Wan' bed." Chip watches, his heart heavy. He notices his dad's mouth moving, his teeth chattering slightly as he chews on the gauze. "Dad, no," Chip whispers, reaching out to his father's cheek. "You're not su—" Chip's eyes widen with realization. "Oh," he says softly. "Your mouth's numb. Mom, is this normal?" Karen nods, her eyes on Plankton's face. "Yes, it's a side effect of the local anesthesia," she explains, her voice calm and reassuring. "It'll wear off soon." Plankton's antennas wave slightly, his chewing growing more frantic. "It's okay, Plankton," she says. "It's just to keep the blood clots forming in place. It won't hurt you." Chip's brow furrows as he watches his dad's mouth move uncontrollably. "Can we give him something for it?" He asks, his hand hovering over the gauze in Plankton's mouth. "Chip, don't. It's just the meds wearing off. Let's get you comfy," Karen says, her tone soothing. They manage to get him sitting up, his head lolling slightly. Plankton makes an "mph" noise, his antennae waving as he tries to communicate. Karen gently takes the gauze out, revealing a swollen, numb mouth. "Can you feel that?" Chip asks, his voice concerned. Plankton shakes his head, his eye wide with confusion. "No?" He says, his voice slurred. "Karen, I canth feel my mouthie!" Karen laughs softly, her eyes brimming with love. "It's normal, love. The feeling will come back." Plankton's antennae wave in frustration. "But it'th so... weiwd," he mumbles. "Wha’ abouth the gosh?" Karen takes his hand gently. "The gauze is gone, Plankton. Just try to relax." Plankton's antennae quiver as he nods. He tries to talk again, but his tongue feels thick and awkward. "Karen," he slurs, "Ith’s wike... ith’s wike I'vth goth a mout' full of cotton candies. I stiw feelth gosh?" His tongue visibly gets in the way of his chewing. Karen nods, her hand on his shoulder. "It's normal, Plankton. Just stop chewing your cheek, okay?" She says, her voice kind. But Plankton's still confused. "But it'th not wike... I'm not gonna bithe mithelf," he says. But even as he's talking, his teeth catch his tongue. "Thee," he says, his voice slurred. "It'th I'm biting gosh, not mysethf." Chip's eyes widen. "No Dad there's no gauze STOP!" Chip yells, making him wince. "Chip thoo loud! Kare----" "Dad you're being louder than me!" Karen quickly takes control of the situation. "Plankton, you're okay. You're just biting your lip because your mouth is still numb from the medicine," she explains. "It's a common side effect. And Chip, please keep your voice down." Plankton's antennae drop in understanding, his body relaxing slightly. "Numb?" He repeats, his voice slurred. "I bith my lithpth?" He looks at Karen, his eye filled with concern. "It's okay," Karen says, her voice calm. "It's not gonna cause complications but it'll make the pain worse once it's worn off." Plankton's antennae wave in understanding, his eye drooping. "Ow-wee?" he mumbles, his speech still slurred. "I'm sorthy." Karen nods, her smile reassuring. "It's okay, sweetie. Just try to keep still," she says. But Plankton's mouth slightly starts to drool due to the numbness. "Ith'th gothta... gothta geth muh gosh," he asks. Karen nods, her movements swift. She grabs gauze from the nightstand. "Open," she instructs, her voice calm and soothing. Plankton's mouth opens obediently, and she gently puts the fresh gauze in. "Better?" She asks, her tone tender. Plankton's antennae wave in relief as he nods. "Tankyew," he mumbles, his speech slurred. Karen and Chip exchange a look, both of them trying not to laugh at the sight of Plankton's drool. "It's okay," Karen says, her voice calm. "It's normal." She wipes the drool from his chin with a gentle tissue. "But you have to keep the gauze in tonight." Plankton nods, his antennas drooping slightly. "Thath what dey thoid," he murmurs. "But it’th... it’th juth... tiwweeddd.." Karen giggles, her eyes shining with love. "I know, Plankton," she says. "But it's all going to be okay. You just have to keep the gauze in for now." Plankton's eye closes in sleep. Chip watches his dad, his heart swelling with concern. He's never seen him like this before, so vulnerable. "Mom, should we be worried?" He whispers, his voice shaky. Karen smiles at his anxiety. "No, no complications. He'll just be in pain is all. And his autism might make it tougher for him to really communicate what he's feeling without getting frustrated, so be prepared for that." As they get him settled in bed, Plankton's drool continues to leak out despite the gauze. Karen carefully tucks him in, making sure the gauze stays in place. "Goodnight, Plankton," she says, even though he's already snoring softly. She kisses his forehead, her heart aching for the pain he'll feel once the anesthesia fully wears off tomorrow. Chip lingers in the doorway, watching his dad sleep. His mind whirrs with thoughts about his dad's autism, his surgery, and the drooling. It's strange to see such a powerful character in his life so vulnerable. He knows Plankton wouldn't want anyone to see him like this, but he also knows his dad is safe here. He turns to Karen, his voice low. "Mom, is he going to be okay?" Karen nods, her eyes still on Plankton. "He's going to be fine. The dental work was minor. The autism just makes everything more... intense for him." All the anesthesia and numbness has worn off overnight while Plankton was asleep. The next morning Plankton awoke to a dull ache in his mouth and jaw. Karen hears him groan loudly and she went right to his side. His antennae now twitched in pain. "Wha'..." Plankton then remembers. The dentist. He had his wisdom teeth out! He recalls the mask. He remembered Sandy dropped Chip off at the dentist, and Karen drove Chip and him home. Anything else after that, he'd forgot. He opens his eye slowly, his mouth now feeling thick and swollen. "Karen," he murmurs. He then took his soggy gauze out, now stained with pink. "Urrg, m-my face.." Karen, sitting beside him, smiles. "Good morning, Plankton. How are you feeling?" Her tone is gentle. Plankton's antennae wave in response. "Dunno," he mumbles. "Why's the pillow wet?" Karen laughs softly. She sits down beside his bed, her expression kind. "It's because the medicine they gave you made your mouth numb. You couldn't feel it, so you drooled in your sleep." Plankton nods, his face scrunching up in realization. "Oh," he says, but winces at the pain in his jaw. "Take it easy," Karen instructs, her hand steadying his shoulder. "You're going to be sore for a few days. And you had those special stitches that dissolve. You're going to need rest." Chip knocks on the doorframe, his eyes full of concern. "Hey, Dad," he says softly. "How's it going?" Plankton's antennae wave slightly. "Chip," he says, his voice still thick from sleep. "Uh, how was Sandy?" Chip steps into the room, his eyes scanning his father. "Ms. Sandy's good," he replies. Plankton nods. "Sandy dropped you off at the oral surgeon office at my dentist yesterday, right?" Chip nods, his eyes worried. "Yeah, Dad. We both came after surgery." He pauses, a smile tugging at his lips. "You had some funny moments." Plankton's antennae perk up, his curiosity piqued despite the pain. "Funny moments?" He asks, nervous. "What do you mean..." Chip pulls out his phone, scrolling to the video from the previous day. He presses play. In the video, they're in the car, Chip in the video talking. 'Dad, do you wanna tell us about the dentist?' Then Plankton came into view. Plankton's eye opens wider as he watches his sleepy, post- surgery self mumble about the "nentis" and his "mowf bu' on my hand wath a ban-aid." He watches his own confusion with mortification. "What bandaid..." Plankton sees it on his hand. "I don't remember having this on my hand. What was it for?" Karen chuckles. "It was the IV, but you won't remember because they did it when you were already sleepy." "Oh," Plankton says. He looks down. "I don't remember," he mumbles, wincing as he took off his bandage. Karen nods, her expression sympathetic. "That's because of the medicine, Plankton. You were pretty out of it." Chip chuckles. "You talked about chairs turning into a rollercoaster," he says. "It was pretty funny." Plankton's antennae droop slightly. "I talked about what? It was all a... a blur." Karen nods. "You were loopy from anesthesia. But it's over. You're safe at home, and we'll help you out." Plankton sat up, movements cautious due to the throbbing in his mouth. "Th-thank you," he says. "My mouth feels... pain." Karen nods, handing over a glass of water and a bottle of pain meds. "Here. It'll help." Plankton nods, his face contorted in discomfort as he took the pills with a grimace. "Euh– " Chip watches his dad carefully with love. He can't imagine what it's like and his dad's autism make it more challenging for him to understand. He sat down on the bed, his hand reaching out to cover his dad's. But Plankton retreats his hand before Chip can touch.

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

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

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

𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 15 by NeuroFabulous Karen's eyes are on her husband, her heart aching for him. She knows his meltdowns are not a personal attack, but a result of his autism. Chip watches, his eyes full of confusion and fear. He's never seen his dad so upset before, so out of control. It's a stark contrast to the usual stoicism Plankton wears like armor. Chip's eyes are glued to his father, his heart racing as he watches the man he's always looked up to crumble in front of him. He wants to help, to make it right, but he's afraid to move. Plankton's sobs fill the room, his body trembling against Karen's embrace. Karen continues to rub his back in the pattern he finds comforting. Chip sees the love in her features as she holds Plankton. Chip watches, his heart heavy. He's never felt so helpless in his life. His dad, so strong, so smart, reduced to this by a simple misunderstanding. He wipes his eyes, feeling the weight of his ignorance. He doesn't know the right words, the right touch, the right anything to make his dad feel better. All he can do is stand there, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Karen whispers to Plankton, her voice low and steady. "You're okay," she says. "It's okay to feel upset." Her words seem to resonate with him, and he nods slightly. Chip remains a silent observer, his eyes flicking between his mom's calming presence and his dad's distressed state. He can see the love in Karen's eyes, the way she holds Plankton like he's made of glass, and he wishes he knew how to offer that same comfort. Plankton's sobs begin to subside, his breathing steadying. Karen continues to whisper to him. "You're okay," she says, her voice soft. "You're safe." Chip watches, his eyes still on his dad, his mind racing. He doesn't know how to fix this, but knows he can't just stand there. He takes a tentative step forward, his hand outstretched. "Dad," he says, his voice unsure. "Can I..." But Plankton flinches, his antennae quivering. "No," he says, his voice still thick with emotion. "Not now." Karen looks at Chip, her eyes filled with understanding. Chip nods, his hand falling back to his side. He steps back, giving his dad the space he needs. He watches as Plankton slowly calms, his breathing evening out. Karen continues to stroke his arm, her eyes never leaving his face. The silence in the room is thick, punctuated only by Plankton's occasional sniffs. Chip's mind is racing with questions, but he knows now's not the time. He looks down at the floor, his thoughts swirling. Karen's eyes are on her husband, her heart full of love and a quiet determination. She knows Plankton needs time, space to process his overwhelming emotions. Chip shifts his weight, his body reflecting his internal stress. Slowly, Plankton's sobs subside, his body relaxing slightly in Karen's embrace. His breathing evens out, his hands still. He opens his eye, looking at Chip with a mix of anger and sadness. Chip's heart breaks a little more at the sight of his dad so vulnerable. "I'm sorry, Dad," Chip says, his voice quiet. "I just wanted to be there for you." Plankton's antennae twitch, his body still tense. "I know, Chip. But don't just barge in like that." Karen nods, her eyes meeting Chip's. "He's right, sweetie. Stims are personal. You need to ask before you touch him or his things." Chip nods, his eyes still on his dad. "But how do I help?" he asks, his voice small. Plankton's antennae twitch, his expression softening a bit. "You can't help me like that," he says. "But you can listen, you can learn." Karen nods, her hand still on Plankton's shoulder. "We all need to learn," she says, her voice gentle. "But you're already doing so much, Chip." Plankton's antennae quiver as he looks at his son. "I don't need you to fix me," he says. "I just need you, to... get it." Chip nods, his eyes wet. "I'm trying, I really am." Plankton nods. Karen hugs them both. "Now, let's get a good night's sleep; because we are gonna go on a road trip to my good friend Hanna's, first thing in the morning! Before you ask, she does not know about your father's autism. And yes, Plankton, we have your travel box of sensory items in the car.." Plankton nods, his body still tense. "Ok," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you."

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

𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 16 by NeuroFabulous The next morning, Karen goes into Chip's bedroom to wake him up for the long drive to Hanna's. She gently shakes his shoulder. "Chip," she whispers. Chip's eyes open. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Mom?" Karen smiles at him. "It's time to get ready," she says. "We're going to Hanna's." The excitement of the road trip fills him. He follows Karen to Plankton's bed, so they can wake him up for the trip. He's still asleep, his antennae twitching. Chip then hears his voice. "Plunk," he says in his sleep. Chip's eyes widen, his heart racing. He's never heard his dad talk in his sleep before. He leans in closer, his curiosity piqued. "Po," Plankton says. Karen's heard this before. It's Plankton's way of navigating his thoughts when he's asleep, a verbal stim of sorts. "What is he saying?" Chip whispers, his voice filled with wonder. Karen smiles softly. "It's just his brain processing," she says. "Sometimes, he talks in his sleep." Chip's eyes are wide with curiosity. She smiles gently. "It's just his brain working through the day," she says. "It's part of his autism." They watch as Plankton's mouth moves, his antennae twitching slightly. "Bom," he murmurs. Chip leans in, his heart racing. "What's he saying?" he whispers. Karen smiles softly. "It's just his way of dreaming aloud," she explains. "It's his brain working through things, like a verbal stim." Chip nods, his eyes never leaving his dad's face. "How do we wake him up, for our trip?" "Gently," Karen whispers, her hand moving to Plankton's shoulder. She gives it a soft shake. "Honey," she says. "It's time to wake up." Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye opening. "What?" he mumbles. "Oh, the trip." He sits up, his body stiff. Chip watches, his heart heavy with the knowledge of the night before. "You ok, Dad?" he asks, his voice tentative. Plankton nods, his antennae twitching. "I'm ok," he says. "Just tired." Karen nods. Karen drives as Chip and Plankton sit in the car's back seat. The car is quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound. Chip's eyes flick to the sensory box by his feet, filled with items to help Plankton cope on their journey. He's learned that his dad's stims are not just quirks, but tools. Plankton sits stiffly, his antennae twitching. Karen's voice floats back, soothing as they drive. "It'll be fun," she says. Chip looks out the window, his thoughts on his dad. He's seen the pain in his eye, the struggle to fit in a world that often doesn't get it. Plankton's autism is a part of him, like his love for science and his tiny size. The car rolls on, the scenery changing outside. Plankton's body starts to relax more. Chip watches, his heart full of love and a newfound respect for his father's strength. Karen notices Plankton's eye drooping and his antennae slowing their twitching. She knows the signs; he's getting tired. "Dad," Chip whispers. "You okay?" Plankton nods. But his nod is more of a reflex than an answer. His head tips back, and, he's asleep, his snores light but steady. Chip's eyes widen slightly, looking to Karen for guidance. She smiles. Karen glances in the rearview mirror, a smile ghosting her lips. "He's asleep, Chip," she says. "It's ok, it happens. Some people tend to doze off easily in cars." Chip nods, his eyes on his dad. Plankton's snores are a comforting sound, a sign that he's at ease. But Chip's mind is still racing. He looks at the sensory box again, his thoughts on the night's confrontation. He knows his dad's boundaries now, yet the desire to connect remains. He makes a silent promise to himself to be more respectful, more understanding. That evening, they finally arrive at Hanna's. Hanna is out front as Karen parks in her driveway. "Welcome, welcome!" she says, her eyes wide with excitement. Chip waves. Plankton is still asleep in his seat. Karen smiled as Hanna walks up to meet her friend's family. She leans into Karen's car. "Hi," Hanna says, smiling. But Plankton doesn't stir. His antennae twitch, but his eye stays closed. "He's out cold," Karen laughs. Karen opens the door, carefully unbuckling Plankton's seatbelt. His body moves slightly as he stirs. "Honey," she whispers, shaking his shoulder gently. "We're here." Plankton's eye opens, blinking sleepily. He looks around, his antennae twitching as he realizes, to his horror, that he fell asleep in the car. "Oh," he mumbles, his voice slightly embarrassed. Hanna's eyes light up when she sees him. "Plankton!" she exclaims. "And Chip right? Oh it's so nice to finally meet you!" But Plankton's antennae quiver with anxiety. New people, new place, new sounds, new smells. "Hi," he says. Chip watches his dad carefully, aware of his sensory sensitivities. He can see the tension in his dad's shoulders as he greets Hanna. "Come on in," Hanna says, smiling widely. "Make yourselves at home." So they get all their belongings and follow her to the guest room. Plankton's antennae twitch constantly as they enter the unfamiliar house. He clutches his travel bag tightly, feeling the weight of his sensory tools within. Hanna's house is a cacophony of colors and patterns. Chip's eyes wander, taking in the new sights, while Plankton's eye darts around the guest room. "This is where you'll be staying," Hanna says, her voice cheerful. "Make yourselves at home." Chip sets his bag down, but Plankton remains frozen, his antennae twitching rapidly. He looks around the room, his eye taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. Karen notices his discomfort and gives him a reassuring smile. "Why don't you sit down, Plankton?" she suggests. Plankton nods, his antennae twitching as he sits on the edge of the bed. Hanna's house is a sensory overload. The lights are bright, the patterns on the walls are overwhelming, and the smell of potpourri permeates the air. Chip's eyes adjust, but Plankton's eye squints, his stomach churning. Karen notices his distress and takes his hand. But he's determined to stay, his jaw clenched. "We're going to have fun, aren't we?" Hanna says, her voice bright. Plankton nods, his antennae still. Chip can see his dad's discomfort, the way he's fidgeting with his travel box. Hanna doesn't seem to notice, her attention on unpacking their bags. He approaches Plankton, his heart full of worry. "Dad," he says gently, "are you ok?" Plankton's antennae twitch, and he nods, but his body language says otherwise. Chip sits down beside him, his hand hovering over his dad's travel box. "Can I... help you find something?" Plankton's eye meets his, and for a moment, there's a flicker of something that might be gratitude. "No," he says, his voice firm. "This is mine." Chip nods, understanding dawning. "Okay," he says. "But if you need anything, I'm here." Plankton's antennae quiver, and he nods again. Karen smiles. Hanna's a burst of energy, her voice high and loud. "Oh, I am so excited!" she says. Plankton's antennae twitch rapidly, trying to keep up with the barrage of sensory information. Hanna doesn't seem to notice, her excitement filling the room. Chip watches his dad carefully, his heart breaking at the sight of his discomfort. He understands now, the importance of patience and empathy. He looks at his mom, who nods knowingly. Hanna, however, was not aware of this. She was overly affectionate and quite loud. "Oh, Plankton, I've heard so much about you!" Hanna gushed, leaning in and nudging him with an elbow. Plankton's antennae shoot straight up. The sudden contact is like a bolt of lightning to his senses. He flinches, despite trying to keep his condition from Hanna, whose expression barely falters. Chip watches, his eyes flicking between Hanna and his dad. He can see Plankton's discomfort, his body language screaming for space. He opens his mouth to say something, but Karen's look stops him. She knows Plankton better than anyone else, and she can see the tightrope he's walking. Plankton's antennae twitch. He clutches his travel box closer, his hand shaking slightly. Chip wants to reach out, but his dad's words from the night before echo in his mind. "Stims are personal," he'd said. "You can't just take them away." Instead, Chip watches his dad, his heart pounding. He's learned so much, but there's still so much to know. Hanna's laughter fills the room, yet Plankton's face is a picture of pain. But Hanna's on a roll. "So, Plankton," Hanna says, clapping her hands. "What do you like to do for fun?" Plankton's antennae quiver. "Huh? I enjoy... science," he says, his voice tight. Karen and Chip exchange a look. Hanna's energy is high, her words tumbling out faster than they can keep up with. Plankton's eye flits around the room, his antennae flicking rapidly. "Oh, science; now that's just wonderful!" Hanna exclaims, her hand now reaching out to Plankton's shoulder for a squeeze. The touch is too much. Plankton flinches, his body tensing. Hanna's hand freezes mid-air, her smile dropping. "Don't be shy," she says, pulling him into a hug. He's stiff in her arms, his antennae pressed against her shoulder. His face twists in pain, and he lets out a low moan. Hanna, who doesn't understand, then cackles with laughter. But Plankton's overwhelmed, and his mind is racing. The touch, the sound, the smell, it's all too much. He feels trapped, his antennae shooting up. His eye widens, his body stiffening. "Mom, I don't think Dad's okay," Chip says, his voice low. Karen's eyes dart to Plankton, her face a mask of concern. She nods, but it's too late. Plankton's body goes rigid in Hanna's embrace, his antennae shooting up. His eye widens, and his breathing becomes quick, shallow gasps. Karen knows what's happening. She's seen it before. "Hanna, please," she says, her voice firm. Hanna pulls back, her smile fading. "What's wrong?" she asks, her eyes filled with concern. But Plankton's body can't take it anymore.

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

𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 17 by NeuroFabulous With a cry that's half frustration, half despair, Plankton pushes away. Karen's eyes are on Plankton, full of understanding. "It's too much," she says to Hanna. "He--" But before she can finish, Plankton's stomach lurches, retching, his heart racing. Karen's seen it all before. "Oh," she says. "Plankto-" But she's cut off as Plankton doubles over, his body wracked with spasms. He retches again, his stomach emptying onto the floor. Chip's eyes widen, his heart racing. "Dad!" he cries, jumping up. Karen's already there, her hands on Plankton's back, rubbing in circles. She looks at Hanna. "It's okay, he's just having a... reaction," she explains calmly. Hanna's eyes are wide, hand over her mouth. "Oh no," she says. "I'm so sorry." Chip's heart is racing. He doesn't know what to do. But Karen does. Plankton's body continues to heave, his antennae pressed against his head. Karen's eyes are filled with concern. "It's okay, honey," she whispers. "Let it out." Chip's heart is racing. He's never seen his dad like this. He feels so small, so helpless. Hanna, still shocked, doesn't know how to react. She just stands there, her hand hovering over Plankton. Karen quickly grabs a towel from the bathroom, wiping Plankton's mouth gently. Her voice is soothing as she helps him sit up, his body trembling. "It's ok," she says, her voice steady. Plankton's antennae pressed against his head. Chip's heart is in his throat, his eyes wide with fear. "Is he okay?" he asks, his voice shaking. Karen nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton's. "It's part of his... condition," she explains to Hanna. "Sensory overload can cause this." Hanna's eyes fill with sympathy. "Oh, I had no idea," she says, her voice soft. Plankton's antennae slowly lower, his breathing steadying. "It's okay," Karen says to him, her voice gentle. "We're here for you." Chip's mind is racing. He's never seen his dad's autism manifest like this. He feels a mix of fear and confusion, but also determination to support his dad. "What can I do?" he asks, his voice trembling. Karen looks at Chip, her eyes filled with love and appreciation. "Just stay here," she says. Plankton's breathing is still ragged, his body still trembling. He opens his eye to look at them, his antennae drooping. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice hoarse from the effort of speaking. Chip's heart aches. He's never seen his dad this way. Karen's eyes meet his. "It's okay," she says, her tone calm and reassuring. "We just need to help him through it." Chip nods, his heart still racing. He watches his dad, his mind racing with questions. How could he not have seen this side of him before? He's known Plankton all his life, but there's so much more to know about his autism. Karen's hand is steady as she helps Plankton to his feet. His legs wobble, his antennae still. She guides him to the bed, his travel bag of sensory items within arm's reach. "Let's get you settled," she says, her voice calm. Plankton nods, his breathing slowing. Karen guides Plankton to one of the guest beds. Yet when he touches the bed's blanket, he yelps as if stung, his eye screwed shut in pain. Chip's eyes widen. "What's wrong, Dad?" he asks him, full of worry. But Plankton's now in distress, stimming by rapidly flapping his hands with a look of pain on his face. His cries pierce the room. Karen's eyes widen with understanding, seeing the coarse, scratchy blanket on the bed. "It's the fabric," she says. "It's too much." Plankton's hand is a blur of motion, flapping wildly. Karen quickly grabs a soft, cotton blanket from their luggage, draping it over him. He gasps, his antennae relaxing slightly. "Better?" she asks. Plankton nods, his whimpers still ragged. The room is tense, the weight of the moment pressing down on them all. Chip watches his dad, his heart racing. He's never seen him in such pain before. Hanna looks lost as she finished cleaning up the vomit from earlier. Plankton's hand, once a whirlwind of motion, is now still, his antennae drooping. The pain in his hand is excruciating, a burning sensation that makes his entire body ache. He can't explain it, but he knows it's part of his own autism. Karen's voice is soothing. "Let's get you comfortable," she says, her eyes full of understanding. Chip's heart is still racing, his mind trying to process what he's seen. Plankton's hand, once still, starts to move again, his fingers rubbing against the cotton blanket. "Can't I just make it stop?" he whispers, his voice so low that Chip barely hears it. His antennae twitch. "I know it's a part of me," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it's so..." His antennae quiver. "So much." Chip's eyes widen as he realizes what's happening. His dad is talking to his stims again! "What do you mean, 'it's so much'?" Chip asks, his voice tentative. Plankton stops rubbing his hand, his antennae twitching in sudden anger. "Like you're always in my face, Chip!" Plankton snaps, his voice sharp. Karen sighs. She knew Chip wanted to help his dad, but she also knew Plankton disliked his stimming to be noted or interrupted, not to mention how overwhelmed he is. "Chip," she says softly. "Let his brain work it out. Your dad's okay." Chip nods, his heart still racing. He's learned so much about autism, but it's clear that he still has a long way to go. He watches as Plankton's hand continues to rub the blanket, his antennae twitching slightly. "Okay, Dad," he says, his voice soft. "I'll just... be over here." He moves to the opposite side of the room, giving his dad the space he needs. Plankton's hand doesn't stop moving, his antennae still quivering. But his voice does, as he begins to murmur to his stims, his voice low and rhythmic. "Tick tock," he says, his voice almost singsong. "Tick tock." It's a comforting sound, a rhythm that seems to soothe him. Chip listens, his eyes wet with tears. He's never heard his dad do this before, but he knows it's a part of his autism. "Tick tock," Plankton repeats, his eye closed tightly. His hand moves faster now, the fabric of the blanket smoothing out under his palm. The room is still, everyone else watching him. Chip feels a knot in his stomach, torn between the urge to comfort his dad and his newfound respect for his boundaries. He swallows hard, his throat tight. Plankton's murmurs grow louder, filling the room with his stims. "Tick tock, tick tock," he says, his hand moving in a soothing, repetitive motion over the cotton. Hanna watches him. "Why do you kee--" But Plankton's stims shift frantically. His hands move from the blanket to his head as if holding his ears. He starts to make noises again as he rocks back and forth. "Tschk tschk tschk..." Hanna's eyes are now wide. Karen intercepts. "It's called a stim," she explains quietly. "It's how he manages overwhelming sensory input." Hanna nods, but her look of confusion remains. "Tschk tschk tschk," Plankton repeats, his hands still cupped around his head. Karen sits beside him, her hand on his back, gently rubbing. "It's okay," she whispers. "You're safe." Yet Plankton's stimming continues. "Tschk tschk tschk." Chip sits down, his hands resting on the bed. "Tschk tschk tschk," Plankton stims. "Tchick, tchick," Chip mimics. That is when Plankton turns to Chip, his eye blazing angrily. "What are you doing?" he demands. "That's not funny!" His antennae shake with frustration. Chip's heart sinks. "I'm sorry," he says quickly. "I just..." His voice trails off. He didn't mean to make fun. He simply wanted to show support, to connect. Karen's voice is calm. "Chip, remember what we talked about. Stims are personal. Let your dad have his space." Plankton's antennae quiver. "I know," Chip says, his voice small. "I just wanted to help." He didn't mean to trigger him! Karen's eyes are gentle. "I know you do," she says. "But sometimes, helping is just being there, without trying to change things." Chip nods, his heart heavy. He watches his dad, who's now still, his hand still on the blanket, his antennae drooping. "Okay," he says quietly, his voice thick with emotion. He moves, giving his dad the space he clearly needs. Hanna's silence is deafening. Hanna, unfamiliar with this side of Plankton, stands awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to say or do. Karen's expression is calm, but her eyes are filled with pain. "Why don't you give him some space?" she suggests to both Hanna and Chip. Chip feels a pang of guilt. He'd never meant to upset his dad like this. He just wanted to understand, to be a part of his world. Plankton's body is still, his breathing even. The stims have ceased for the moment, his hand resting on the soft cotton. Chip watches him, his eyes never leaving his dad's form. He's learned about autism, but experiencing it so rawly is different. He can't help but feel like he failed. Hanna, feeling like an intruder in this intimate moment, quietly excuses herself, leaving Karen and Chip alone with Plankton. The room feels claustrophobic, the silence thick with unspoken words. Karen turns to Chip, her face a mask of sadness. "It's okay," she says, "We all make mistakes. But what's important is that we learn from them." Chip nods, still fixed on his dad's form. Plankton's hand moves back to the blanket, stroking it gently. "I know," Chip whispers. "I just wanna help." Karen looks at him, her eyes full of warmth. "You are helping," she assures him. "Just by being here, just by trying to understand." Plankton's antennae twitch, his breathing slow and even. Chip can see his shoulders relax ever so slightly, the cotton blanket a comforting presence. "It's okay," Karen repeats. "We're all learning." The room is quiet, the only sound the steady rhythm of Plankton's breathing. Chip's dad's autism is so much more than he ever knew.

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

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

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS xvi (By NeuroFabulous) "Could Dad feel anything?" Karen's gaze is filled with compassion. "No, sweetie," she says gently. "That's the point of the medicine. He didn't feel anything." Chip nods, his eyes still on Plankton. "What's it like when Dad woke up?" he asks, his voice a soft curiosity. Karen's voice is a gentle narrative, her words painting a picture of Plankton's recovery. "He was a bit confused at first," she says, her eyes on Plankton. "But he quickly understood where he was." Chip's eyes are a mirror of his mother's, his curiosity a living entity. "But his mouth?" he asks, his voice a quiet probing. Karen's smile is a soft reassurance. "They gave him something to make it numb," she says, her words a gentle explanation. "So he couldn't feel the surgery." Chip's eyes are a swirl of understanding. "What was it like when it was over?" he asks, his voice a whisper of fascination. "Before he awoke from it? After they finished while you waited for him to wake up, what'd his face and mouth look like?" Karen's gaze is a silent answer, her eyes a soft story of the surgery's aftermath. "His cheeks were a bit puffy," she whispers, her voice a gentle narrative of the scene she'd witnessed. "And there was a bit of blood, but the doctors cleaned him up. As he slept, I could see his chest rise and fall, and I knew he was okay." Chip's eyes are wide with interest. "And then?" Karen's voice is a soft narrative, her words painting the picture of Plankton's recovery. "After they took his teeth out, they put in stitches," she says. "And now his mouth needs time to heal." Chip's eyes widen, his mind racing with images. "Stitches?" he repeats, his voice a mix of fascination and horror. "How'd they put in stitches while he was sleeping?" Karen's smile is a gentle explanation. "They're very careful," she says, her voice a calm lake. "They use a special thread that dissolves so he doesn't need to come back to have them removed." Chip's eyes are a mix of wonder and concern. "How'd he not bite the dentist?" Karen laughs softly, a warm sound in the quiet room. "They gave him more medicine," she says, her voice a gentle guide. "So his mouth was completely relaxed." Chip's eyes are wide with wonder. "How did it feel to wake up?" he asks, his voice filled with innocent curiosity. Plankton's antennae quiver slightly, his eye opening to look at his son. "It was... strange," he murmurs, his voice a distant echo of his experience. "Everything was blurry, and my mouth felt funny." Chip nods, his eyes wide with interest. "But it's better now?" he asks, hope coloring his voice. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly. "Mmh," he mumbles, his voice a hoarse affirmation. "It's okay; still healing.." "How about we watch a movie?" Karen suggests, her voice a gentle distraction from the pain. "Something fun, to take your mind off it?" Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his interest piqued despite his discomfort. "The Dirty Bubble?" he murmurs. Karen's smile is a nod, her eyes filled with the promise of distraction. "Yeah," she says, getting up to grab the remote. "It's about the underwater world's biggest heist," she says, her voice a gentle coaxing. "I think you'll enjoy it, Chip." Plankton's antennae twitch with slight interest as he sits up more, his body protesting with a soft groan. Chip moves closer, his eyes on his father. Plankton's antennae twitch. Karen and Chip sit on either side of him. The movie's sounds fill the room, the images dancing across the television screen. As the film progresses, Plankton's eye grows heavier, his head slowly tilting towards Chip. Chip, lost in the story, feels the slightest pressure against his shoulder. He looks down to see his father's antennae quivering, his head leaning closer. Plankton's body is a silent admission of his exhaustion. He's trying to stay alert, but his eye keeps slipping shut, his antennae drooping slightly. The movie plays on. Chip feels the weight of his father's head, a warmth that spreads through his body. Plankton's antennae are a quiet whisper, his breathing even. Karen's gaze flits from the TV to the two of them, her heart swelling with gratitude. This is progress. Chip feels his dad's antennae brush against his arm, the sensation a soft reminder of his presence. The movie's end credits roll, the room bathed in the soft glow of the TV. Sandy's hand is warm on the remote, turning off the film. Chip then hears a gentle snore against his shoulder, his dad's antennae lying limp beside him. He looks down to see Plankton's eye closed, his head resting heavily. Karen's smile is a quiet celebration. "Looks like he's asleep," she murmurs, her voice a soft whisper. Chip's eyes are wide with surprise. "On me?" he asks, his voice filled with disbelief. Karen nods, her smile a warm embrace. "It's okay," she whispers, her eyes on Plankton's sleeping form. "He's just really tired." Chip's heart swells with pride. It's the first time his dad's ever fallen asleep on him, a silent testament to the trust building between them. He carefully shifts his shoulder, making room for Plankton's antennae. Karen's eyes are a gentle nod of understanding. "Let him sleep," she whispers. The room is a soft symphony of Plankton's snores and the distant hum of the refrigerator. Chip watches his father, his expression one of wonder.

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) "Gordon, I think it's happening," Ma Plankton said, her voice tight with both excitement and nerves. as she felt pressure build within her tiny frame. Her husband, Gordon Plankton, paused in his work. They've had lots of kids already, so Gordon Plankton knew the drill. Ma Plankton's antennae quivered, hinting at the imminent arrival of their newest addition. Gordon walks closer, his eye wide. "Ya think it's now?" The room was simple, but meticulously clean. Ma Plankton's bed was ready, filled with warm blankets at the hospital. Gordon had worked hard. Anticipation grew as Ma Plankton felt contractions. The nurse rushed in. "It's time," she announced, her claws clicking in efficiency, calm but firm. The nurse called for the doctor, who rushed in as the baby's tiny head started to emerge. But then it stopped, the baby unable to go any further. The doctor called for more staff, and the room was suddenly filled with medics. "Ma'am, we're going to need to assist. The baby's stuck. We must be careful to manually pull him out." The medical staff moved swiftly, their gloved hands interlocking to form a careful grip around the baby's tiny form. Sweat beaded on the doctor's forehead as she applied gentle but firm pressure. Ma Plankton gritted her teeth, her eye's squeezed shut as she bore down with all her might. Each push was met with resistance, the baby's struggle echoing her own internal fight. Gordon hovered nervously. The doctor's voice was steady. "Again, Ma. We're almost there." With a final, desperate heave, the baby's head was free. The medical staff paused, their eyes flicking to the X-ray ultrasonography. The doctor nodded to the nurse, who rolled it closer with quick, precise movements to baby Sheldon Plankton before comparing prenatal imaging to the new antenatal one. Ma's heart raced. "Is everything ok?" she asked, voice quivering. The doctor took a deep breath before speaking. "Ma'am, the birth was dystocic. Your baby's delivery was...complicated. But we managed to get Sheldon out safely." She paused, glancing at Gordon, then back to Ma. "Yet the birth impacted his brain structure irreversibly. As he was being born, Plankton experienced severe stress that affected his neural pathways. He has acquired autism." That was long ago. That was Sheldon Plankton's birth. His own neurodisability. Now, Plankton and Karen, who's learned every little thing about his autistic seizures and preferences, fell in love as they grew up. Eventually, Chip, their son adopted as a new- born, came into the picture. Plankton adored his son, yet Plankton's pride was why nobody else other than Karen knew he's neurodisabled. "Be home at least by dinner!" Karen had last told Chip before he went to play. Yet Chip came home earlier than that, and his parents didn't immediately know he'd arrived back. And that's how Chip accidentally found out about his dad's neurodisabilities. Karen had Plankton's special box of sensory items nearby, as he's exiting one of his mini seizures. Sometimes after a seizure, his neuroregressions can be alarmingly odd for those who wouldn't know. And now Chip saw them. Chip peeked into his parent's bedroom to find Plankton on his bed with Karen. Sheldon Plankton's postictal loopiness was something Karen had grown used to. After a seizure, Plankton often retreated into his own world, his thoughts tangled in sensory overload and confusion. He'd laugh at nothing, or become fixated on a random object with childlike wonder. This was his brain's way of recalibrating, of finding a new equilibrium amidst the chaos. On this particular afternoon, Chip watched from the doorway, his curiosity piqued. He saw his dad playing with a box of sensory toys, his eye alight with joy. There were squishy balls, fidget spinners, and even a special pillow. Plankton picked up a soft, fuzzy toy and strobed it in front of his eye, chuckling to himself. Karen noticed Chip's shadow in the doorway and turned to see their son watching them. Her expression softened. "Sweetie, come here," she called, patting the bed. "I need to talk to you about something." Chip approached cautiously, his eyes never leaving his father. He knew his dad was quirky, but he had never seen this. "Is he ok?" he asked, his voice small and uncertain. Karen took a deep breath, her hand resting on Plankton's shoulder as she turned to face their son. "Your dad's brain works differently, honey. Sometimes, when his body gets overwhelmed, he has these moments." Plankton, still in the throes of his postictal loopiness, noticed Chip and his eye lit up. He held out the fuzzy toy, still strobing it. "Meee!" He giggled, oblivious to the seriousness of the situation. "Daddy has autism," Karen explained gently, her voice soothing. "And when he has a seizure, his brain needs some extra love and care to get back to normal." Chip's eyes widened. He heard about autism from school, but he never imagined his dad had it. He looked at Plankton playing with the toys, his movements erratic, yet somehow soothing. Plankton had always been so good at hiding it. Now, Chip realized that his dad's quirks weren't just quirks - they were his way of coping with a world that was often too loud, too bright, too much. He felt a pang of sadness, but also admiration. Plankton was so strong. Karen saw the wheels turning in Chip's mind. She knew this was a big revelation for him. "It's okay to feel confused," she assured him. "But what's important is that we support Daddy. He loves you so much, and this is just a part of who he is." Chip nodded slowly, still watching Plankton with the fuzzy toy. He was trying to process it all. Autism. Seizures. This secret. "Can I sit with him?" he asks tentatively. Karen smiles and nods, "Of course, honey." She moves over to make space for Chip on the bed. "Just remember to be gentle."

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 2 Plankton, still in his sensory-induced giggle fit, notices Chip's approach. Chip sits carefully beside his father, the bed dipping slightly under his weight. He reaches out a hand, slow and steady, and touches the fuzzy toy. Plankton stops strobing it and instead hands it to Chip. "Yi," he says. Chip takes the toy, unsure what to do, but his dad's calm demeanor reassures him. He runs his thumb over the soft fur, feeling the tiny fibers tickle his skin. Plankton watches with a gentle smile. "Spin?" he asks, his voice a gentle rasp. Chip nods and starts to rotate the toy. Plankton's eye follows the motion, a look of contentment washing over his face. It was strange to see his dad like this, so... vulnerable. But Chip felt his own heart swell with love. As the toy spins, the colors blur into a mesmerizing whirl. Chip feels the tension in the room ease slightly. He's never seen his dad so open, so unguarded. It's like getting a glimpse into a part of Plankton that's been locked away. Yet Karen knows Plankton's not gonna be pleased when he comes out of it to see his son interacting with him and his sensory items! Plankton's giggles continue to fill the room as Chip spins the fuzzy toy, matching his dad's earlier rhythm. The colors swirl into a hypnotic dance, and for a moment, it's as if the world outside their bubble doesn't exist. Chip feels a strange connection forming, a bond born from this shared experience. Slowly, Plankton's laughter fades into quietude, his eye blinking rapidly as he begins to emerge from the loop. Karen watches closely, ready to step in if needed. But then Plankton's gaze meets Chip's. The boy's eyes are wide with understanding and concern. Plankton feels a sudden wave of self-consciousness sweep over him, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. He hadn't meant for Chip to see him like this, so exposed. The silence is thick with emotion as Plankton tries to piece together what happened. He knows he had a seizure, but his memories are hazy, like fragments of a forgotten dream. "Chip," Plankton starts, his voice gruff and defensive. "What are you doing here?" Chip jumps back. "I-I was just looking for you," he stammers. "But then I saw..." His voice trails off. Plankton snatches the toy away, his movements quick and jerky. "These are mine," he snaps. "Not for you." Chip's eyes water, the sudden anger from his dad catching him off-guard. He hadn't meant to intrude, but now he felt like he'd broken something fragile. "But Dad," Chip stammers, his voice quivering. "I didn't know. I ju—" "You shouldn't have been snooping!" Plankton snaps, trying to shield himself from his son's innocent curiosity. Karen sighs. The room is suddenly charged with tension. Chip's heart sinks. "Dad, I'm sorry," he whispers, his eyes glistening. "I didn't mean to—" "Out!" Plankton yells, his voice echoing sharply in the small space, cutting off Chip's apology. The boy jumps up from the bed, dropping the fuzzy toy, and runs out of the room. Karen sighs, exasperated. "Sheldon, that wasn't fair," she scolds, using his full name to convey her seriousness. Plankton's shoulders slump. "I just...I can't have him seeing me like this," he mutters, his voice tight. "Unfair is the fact that I have to deal with this, myself. Why did he have to find out like that?" Karen sits beside him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's okay to be upset, Plankton," she says, her tone kind but firm. "But you can't hide from Chip forever. You're his father, and he loves you. He's going to have questions." Plankton turns away, his eye misty. "I don't know how to explain it to him," he murmurs. "What if he thinks I'm weak?" Karen's hand tightens on his shoulder. "You're not weak," she says firmly. "You're strong, and you're brave. And autism is just a part of what makes you, you." Plankton nods slowly, his shoulders still tense. He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the effort. "Okay," he finally says, turning back to face her. "But what do I tell him?" Karen squeezes his hand. "You tell him the truth," she says gently. "You tell him that autism is just a part of who you are, and that you have good days and bad days, just like everyone else." Plankton nods slowly, taking another deep breath. He's always been good at hiding his condition, blending in with the rest of the world. But from the moment Chip was born, he knew he had to be a strong, stoic figure for his son. Yet now, with his secret out in the open, he feels exposed. He squeezes Karen's hand back, feeling a mix of fear and relief. "What if he's scared of me?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper. Karen shakes her head firmly. "He's not going to be scared, Plankton. He's going to be curious. And he'll love you just as much, if not more, for being honest with him." With a heavy sigh, Plankton nods. He knows his wife is right. It's time for Chip to understand his father's world, a place filled with sensory overload and silent battles. He finds Chip in his bedroom, curled up on the bed with a favorite book. The room is quiet, the only sound the faint rustle of pages turning. Plankton's heart clenches at the sight of his son's sadness. "Chip," he calls, his voice barely above a whisper. Chip looks up, his eyes red-rimmed from crying. He sees his dad standing there, looking so small and vulnerable, and his own walls crumble. He jumps up, running into Plankton's arms. "I'm sorry," he sobs, burying his face in Plankton's chest. But Plankton's body stiffens. He's not used to this kind of contact, especially when he's fresh from a seizure. The sensation of Chip's arms wrapped around him is too much, and he feels the beginnings of a meltdown brewing. He doesn't know how to tell his son that he needs space, that touch isn't always comforting. Gritting his teeth, Plankton endures the embrace for a moment longer before gently pushing Chip away. "Not now," he says, his voice strained. "I need...I don't need touch." Chip's eyes widen in regret. He steps back, his arms dropping to his sides. "I'm sorry," he says again, his voice small. "I didn't know."