Talkcore Emojis & Text

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.

new my autistic dad seizurecore

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.

new my autistic dad meancore

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."

new stimcore my autistic dad 3

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.

new NeuroFabulous my autistic dad 1

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.

new my autistic dad meancore

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."

new stimcore my autistic dad 2

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.

new my autistic dad learncore

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.

new my autistic dad stimcore

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."

new my autistic dad stuttercore

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. 

new my autistic dad learncore

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."

new my autistic dad stimcore

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.

new my autistic dad stimcore

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."

new my autistic dad touchingcore

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.

new my autistic dad tripcore

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.

new my autistic dad hannacore

Copy & Paste Talkcore Emojis & Symbols 𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣Pt. 7by NeuroFabulous"

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