𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 3 by NeuroFabulous Plankton's stims grew more pronounced, his mouth moving rapidly, producing a series of sounds that didn't form words. "Kkr-kr-kr-kr," he murmured, his eye squeezed shut tightly. Chip felt his own heart race, but he also felt a strange sort of fascination with his dad's behavior. Karen knew that Plankton was trying to regain control over his senses. This verbal stimming was a way for his brain to reset, to find comfort in the repetition and rhythm of the sounds. But Chip didn't know what was happening. He watched his dad with a mix of fear and curiosity. The "kr-kr-kr" sounds grew louder, more erratic. Karen knew this was the moment they had been dreading, the moment when they would have to explain everything to Chip. But she also knew that Plankton's fear was real, his need for control overwhelming. So she waited, her eyes never leaving her husband's face. Chip stared at his dad, unsure of what to do. The sounds were both fascinating and scary, his young mind trying to process the scene before him. He had always known his dad was different, but he had never seen him like this. Plankton's stimming grew louder, his mouth moving faster. "Tss-tss-tss-tsss," he repeated. "Shc-shc-shcss," his tongue dancing around his mouth. Karen recognized the patterns, the sounds he made when he was overstimulated and trying to ground himself. Her eyes filled with love and understanding, she gently guided Chip to the bed. "Come sit with us, sweetie," she said, patting the mattress. "Let's talk about what's happening." Chip climbed onto the bed, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face as he continued his strange pattern of sounds. "Dad," Chip whispered, "are you okay?" But Plankton didn't respond, his vocalizations now increasing in volume and speed. "Ck-ck-ck-ck," he repeated. "Hx-hx-hx-hx." Chip's eyes were wide with unyielding curiosity as his dad continues to rock back and forth. Karen looked at her son, seeing the question marks in his eyes. "Your dad is okay," she assured him, keeping her voice steady. "He's just making sounds that help him feel better right now." Chip studied his dad's face, his curiosity outweighing his fear. "But why?" he asked. Karen took a deep breath, knowing this was a delicate moment. "Dad's brain works different, remember?" she explained, trying to keep her voice steady. "Sometimes, his body does things, even without his permission, to help him feel safe." But Chip was still scared. He didn't understand why his dad was so upset. He had only wanted to help. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he watched his dad rock back and forth, making those strange noises. Karen reached over, taking Plankton's hand, her voice soothing. "It's okay," she whispered. "You don't have to hide anymore." Plankton flinched at her touch, his stims becoming more erratic. "Chip, your dad just needs a little more time," she explained. "He's not mad at yo--" "YES, I AM MAD!" Plankton interrupted, his voice sharp. "Why does Chip think he can just barge in and see me like this?! You're not supposed to be in here!" The room was thick with tension as Chip's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry," he stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to scare y—" "You didn't scare me," Plankton snapped, his anger sharp. "But you just had to go poking around, didn't you!" Karen felt a squeeze of fear in her heart, but she knew this was not the time to interfere. "Plankton," she said calmly, "Chip was just worried about you." Plankton's anger didn't abate. "I don't need his pity!" he shouted, his stims turning into a full-blown meltdown. His body is now no longer his own. Chip shrank back, his innocence shattered by his father's rage. He had never seen Plankton like this before, had never felt so unwanted or so afraid. "I just wanted to help," he whispered, his voice barely audible. But Plankton was beyond reason. His autism is now taking over, turning violent as Chip approached with an outstretched hand. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" Plankton bellowed, pushing Chip away with surprising strength. The small boy stumbled back, his eyes wide. Karen's eyes filled with concern as she watched her son's face crumble. "Chip, sweetie, go to your room," she said gently, trying to shield him from Plankton's fury. But Chip couldn't move, his legs frozen to the spot. Karen knew she had to intervene before things got worse. She moved quickly, placing herself between Plankton and Chip. "Chip, go to your room," she ordered gently, her voice firm but not harsh. "We'll talk about this later, okay?" Chip nodded, his eyes still on his father's distressed form. He turned and left the room, his small feet dragging against the floor as he walked away. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Karen alone with her husband's meltdown. Karen's heart broke for him, but she knew she had to get through to him. "Plankton," she said, her voice firm but kind, "Chip loves you. He was just sc-" But Plankton's meltdown was in full swing. He was beyond the point of reason, his voice a mix of stims and rage. "I DON'T WANT HIS PITY!" he screamed, his fists clenching the bed sheets. His stims were no longer calming; they were a manifestation of his distress. Karen felt a knot in her stomach as she watched her husband's breakdown. Her heart was torn between soothing him and protecting Chip. But she knew that Plankton's anger wasn't just directed at their son. It was at the world, at his condition, at the fear of being discovered. "Plankton," she said firmly, "look at me." She waited until his eye met hers. "Your autism is a part of who you are, and it doesn't make you any less of a person." Her words seemed to pierce his rage. He took a shaky breath, his body gradually stilling. "I just... I don't want him to see this," he murmured. The anger left his voice, leaving behind a raw vulnerability. Karen reached out gently touching his arm. "Chip isn't scared of you," she assured. "He's scared for you. And we need to talk to him about what's going on." Plankton's eye searched hers, filled with a mix of doubt and fear. "What i-if h-he’s ashamed of me?" his voice was barely above a whisper. Karen's eyes softened, her touch gentle. "Chip could never be ashamed," she said firmly. "He loves you just the way you are. Now, let's go talk to him."

𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 1 by NeuroFabulous Karen and her husband Plankton adopted Chip as a newвorn. Chip is a good kid, but he doesn't know that his mom and dad kept a secret, which is Plankton's autism. Plankton was only comfortable with Karen knowing of it. She knew all his different tics, his stims, nonepileptic seizures; but Plankton's unsure of sharing it with his son. His pride made him not want others to ever find out! But one day, that all changed, for Chip found out the hard way. He stumbled upon his dad having an absence seizure, not knowing what it meant, what was happening. Karen was out front gardening when Chip went into his parents bedroom to the sight of Plankton on his bed. He sat rigidly stiff, his unblinking eye unseeing. "Dad?" Chip called out, his voice trembling with fear. He had never seen his father like this before. Plankton didn't respond, lost in his moment of absence. Cautiously, Chip approached the bed. With trembling fingers, he gently squeezed his dad's shoulder. "Dad?" he repeated. No reply. Panic began to set in, his heart racing. "Dad, wake up!" Chip shouted, his voice cracking with worry. Chip tried to shake his dad gently, but Plankton remained motionless. He was scared, unsure. He doesn't know about seizures, let alone absence seizures. "Dad, please," he whispered, his voice quivering. He didn't know what to do. The room felt eerie, as if the air had become thick and stıll. Chip looked around desperately, his eyes searching for anything that might explain what was happening. He saw a picture of the family on the bedside table. The happy faces in the picture seemed to contrast sharply with the scene before him. He tried to shake his dad a little more forcefully this time. "Wake up, Dad!" he yelled, his voice echoing in the quiet room. The fear was now turning into desperation. Tears began to well up in his eyes as he sat on the bed beside his dad. He took Plankton's hand in his own. "Dad," he whimpered. Nothing. He decided to try talking to him, maybe it would help bring him back. "Dad, it's me, Chip. Remember when we went to the beach last summer and you taught me to build sandcastles?" His voice was shaky, but he continued, "You said I was the best sand sculptor you've ever seen. Remember the seagulls that kept stealing our snacks?" Yet Plankton remained motionless. The silence grew heavier, pressing down on Chip like a weıght he couldn't lift. He swallowed hard, his mind racing. "Dad, please come back," he begged, shaking his father's arm. He didn't know to wait it out, ending up sending Plankton deeper into his overload, his eye even more vacant. Chip's thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and fear. "What if he's hurt?" He whispered to himself. He knew he had to tell his mom. But what could she do? Would she be mad if he did something wrong? Besides he didn't want to leave his dad alone. "Dad, I love you so much," he said, tears spilling over. He decided to sing. "The wheels on the bus go round and round," he began, it being the first song that popped into mind. He hoped that would somehow break the silence that had overtaken his dad. He sang softly, his voice wavering as the lyrics filled the room. His small hand tightly gripped his dad's, willing him to return to reality. Nothing. So he stopped singing. With a tremble in his voıce, Chip decided to try again to make a connection. "Dad," he began, "do you remember when you took me to the arcade and I beat you at Whack-A-Mole?" He paused, hoping for a reaction, a twitch of antennae, anything. "I don't want you to go any where, Dad. I need you here." Just as he finished speaking, he heard the front door opening. His mom must've finished gardening! He didn't want her to find them like this, but he knew he needed her help. He didn't know how else to get his dad to wake. "Mom!" Chip yelled, his voice strained and desperate. "Come quick!" The sound of her footsteps grew closer, the tension in the house palpable. He felt his throat tighten, his eyes blurring with tears. Karen rushed into the room. Her eyes scanned the scene, quickly assessing the situation. Seeing Plankton on the bed, she knew instantly what was going on. She had seen it before, too many times to count. Her heart ached for Chip's innocent confusion. "It's okay, sweetie," she said, trying to calm Chip's nerves as she sat beside him. "Your dad's just having a moment. It's like a little nap, but for his brain." She took his hand, squeezing it gently. "You don't have to be scared. He'll be back in a bit." Karen had prepared herself for this day, knowing it could come eventually. She had learned early on what Plankton needed during his episodes. Now it was time to explain it to their son. She took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving Plankton's vacant one. "Chip," she began, her voice soothing, "you know how sometimes you get really into your toys and don't hear me when I call?" He nodded. "It's like that for Dad right now, but with his brain. He can't really hear or see us. We just have to wait for him to come back." She stroked Plankton's arm. This was something she had experienced countless times, but seeing her son's fear was a new kind of pain. "Remember, Chip," she whispered, "his brain is just taking a little break. It's like he's in a bubble right now. We have to wait until he pops out." Karen knew that Plankton needed quiet and space during his seizures. She gently took over, moving Chip aside to give Plankton the room his overstimulated mind required. She sat down next to her husband, placing a calming hand on his back. Her touch was gentle, familiar. The seconds ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity. Karen's heart was beating fast, but her voice remained calm and soothing. "It's okay, Plankton," she murmured. "You're safe here. It's just us." Chip watched his mom, his eyes wide with questions. He had never seen his dad like this before, and it scared him. But the way Karen spoke to Plankton, with such patience and understanding, was comforting.

𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 4 by NeuroFabulous They found Chip sitting on the floor of his room. Karen knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around his small frame. "It's ok Chip," she whispered. "Dad didn't mean to scare you." Plankton sat on the edge of the bed, his body still shaky from his meltdown. He watched his wife and son with a mix of love and despair. He didn't know how to bridge the gap that had suddenly appeared between them. Karen sat beside him, her hand on his arm, her gaze filled with understanding. "We need to talk to Chip," she said gently. "He's scared, Plankton. He just needs to know what's go—" But Plankton was already spiraling, his chest tightening as the fear of the unknown consumed him. His eye was wide, his breaths quick and shallow. He clutched at his chest, his heart racing. "I can't." The room spun around him, his stims turning into a full-blown panic attack. Karen's eyes searched his, seeing the fear and desperation. She knew this was a moment they couldn't ignore. "Plankton, you can do this," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "We're going to te-" But Plankton's panic was too intense. His body began to shake, his breaths coming in quick, sharp gasps. He couldn't control his stims. "I CAN'T!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the room. His antennae twitched erratically, his body contorting in an effort to escape the overwhelming anxiety. Chip's eyes grew wider at his father's distress. He didn't know what to do, but he knew he wanted to help. He scoots closer, reaching for Plankton's hand. "Dad?" he whispered. The touch was like electricity to Plankton. He jolted, his panic escalating, his body thrashing uncontrollably. Karen held Chip back, knowing that Plankton's flailing limbs could accidentally harm him. "Daddy," Chip called out, his voice trembling. Karen saw the fear in Chip's eyes. "Chip," she said, her voice steady despite the chaos around them, "Dad's having a bad seizure. He gets them sometimes because his brain is working extra hard. We need to stay calm, let him have his space." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving Plankton's convulsing form. He didn't understand why his dad's brain would do this to him, but he knew he had to be brave. The room was silent except for the harsh sound of Plankton's labored breaths. Karen's heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. This was a side of Plankton she had shielded Chip from for so long. But now, there was no hiding it. She knew that the conversation they had been avoiding was now inevitable. The seizure raged on, Plankton's body jerking and twitching with an intensity that made Karen's own body ache in empathy. She watched his face, contorted in pain, and wished she could take it away, wished she could explain to their son what was happening. But Chip's innocence shattered by the scene before him. His tears fell silently, mixing with the fear in his eyes as he stared at his dad. Plankton's body jerked wildly, his stims a silent scream for help. The room was a blur of movement and noise, his sounds filling the air like a cacophony of distress. Karen held Chip tightly, his small body trembling against hers. "It's ok, Dad's brain just needs a moment to calm down," she murmured. Plankton's seizure eventually subsided. Karen remained by his side, her eyes never leaving his face as she whispered soothing words. "You're ok," she murmured. "You're safe." Plankton's eye flitted open, unfocused and glassy. The room was quiet, the only sound being his own labored breaths. He looked around Chip's bedroom. "Wha-wha-wha?" he stuttered, his voice still thick with his postictal state. Karen and Chip stared at him, their faces filled with a mix of fear and relief. Plankton's mind was still racing, trying to catch up with reality. "Wha-wha-wha?" he repeated, his mouth forming words that didn't make sense. Karen took his hand, her eyes filled with love and patience. "You had a seizure, Plankton," she said softly. "But you're coming out of it now." Plankton's gaze drifted around the room, his brain trying to piece together the fragments of what had happened. Plankton's tremors had evolved into a loop of silly sounds and gestures. He giggled, his eye crossing slightly as he waved his arms in the air. "Hi, buddy," he said, his voice slurred and childlike. Chip stared at him, not knowing how to react. "You're okay, Dad?" Chip ventured, his voice shaky. Plankton looked at him, his face a mask of confusion and child-like innocence. He giggled again. Chip watched his dad, his heart pounding. The silly sounds and movements were so unlike him. It was like watching a stranger in his dad's body. "What's going on?" Chip asked, his voice trembling. "Is he okay?" Karen nodded, her eyes filled with both love and sadness. "It's called postictal delirium," she said softly. "It can happen after a seizure. His brain is just trying to reboot." Plankton looked at them both, his movements becoming more erratic. "I'm a... I'm a... root?" Karen couldn't help but smile through her tears. "No, honey, you're not a root," she said, her voice gentle. "You're just a bit mixed up right now." Chip watched his dad, his mind racing. He had never seen him act so... so weird. "But Dad," he stammered, "you're not a root.." Plankton chuckles, his eye glazed over. Karen's smile grew sadder. "It's okay," she reassured Chip, her voice steady. "This is just a phase, it will pass. His brain is just trying to get back to his normal." Plankton's legs pushed his body to his side as drool formed at the corner of his mouth. Chip looked to his mom for guidance, his eyes pleading for explanation. Karen's heart ached watching her husband's mind struggle to find his footing. She knew this was a normal part of his recovery, but it was hard not to feel a pang of sadness at his vulnerability. "It's okay, sweetie," she said, her voice calm and steady. "See, his brain is still trying to wake up," she explained, her voice calm and soothing. "It's like he's in a dream, and we just have to wait for him to come back to us." Chip studied his father's face, his mind racing to understand. "But why is he acting like that?" he asked, his voice filled with worry. "It's part of his recovery," Karen said, wiping a tear from her eye. "Sometimes after a big seizure, his brain needs a bit of time to get itself sorted out. He might say or do things that don't make sense. It's like his brain is playing catch-up." Plankton rolled onto his stomach, trying to crawl around on the bed. Chip watched, his heart racing. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Karen couldn't help but chuckle through her own tears. It was a sight to see his normally stoic demeanor so playfully distorted. "Wormy wormy," Chip repeated tentatively, a tiny smile playing on his lips despite the fear that still lingered. Plankton crawled to Chip, drooling still, his eye still glazed over. Karen watched the interaction with a bittersweet smile, heart torn between laughing at Plankton's silliness and crying for the reality behind it. "That's right, buddy," she said, her voice soft. Chip laughed too, though the fear in his eyes hadn't fully dissipated. His dad's normally stern face was a picture of joyful confusion, his movements those of a playful puppy. "Daddy, what's so funny?" Chip asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. Plankton giggled, his limbs flailing. "Tickle monster," he exclaimed, his voice high-pitched and slurred. He reached out and poked Chip in the hand, his movements uncoordinated but playful. Chip stifled a laugh, his fear slowly giving way to amusement. "Dad," he said, his voice gentle, "you're not a tickle monster." But Plankton's reaching for Chip again. "Tickle monster, tickle monster," he repeated, his voice growing more insistent. Chip felt a strange mix of emotions bubbling up inside him. He was still scared, but there was something endearing about his dad's newfound silliness. Chip giggled. "Dad, stop," he protested, but his laughter betrayed his enjoyment. Karen herself watched from the edge of the bed, her own smile growing. She knew whenever Plankton fully came back to himself, he'd be completely humiliated to find himself like this.

𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 2 by NeuroFabulous Karen knew that Plankton's autism came with challenges, and one of those was dealing with sensory overload. Her hand remained steady on Plankton's back, knowing to͠uch was always either a comfort or a trigger. Plankton's breathing began to even out, and she could see the tension slowly drain from his body. Karen looked over at Chip, his eyes still filled with uncertainty. She knew it was time to explain. "Chip," she said, her voice calm and steady, "Dad has something that makes his brain work a little differently than ours. It's called autism." Chip nodded, trying to understand. "What's that, Mom? What does autism mean?" Karen took a deep breath. "It means that Dad's brain processes things in a way that's different from most people's," she explained. "Sometimes, his brain gets really tired from trying to make sense of the world, and his body has to take a little break." Chip nodded slowly, his thoughts racing. "So, like his brain needs to reboot?" "Exactly," Karen said with a gentle smıle. "And when it does, we have to be extra careful and quiet. It's like when your phone freezes up, and you give it some patience to figure things out." Then Plankton's eye blinks, now focusing. The world slowly came back to Plankton. He saw Karen beside him, her screen filled with relief and love. "Whaa-" He stuttered, his body still feeling heavy. He noticed Chip, his son, sitting on the bed, looking at him with wide eyes and tears streaking down his face. "Ch-Chip?" Plankton managed to croak. The sight of his son's presence told him that he'd been watching. Chip's eyes widened, hope filling his voice as he called out again, "Dad!" Plankton winced. Karen reached for Chip, pulling him into a side hug. "Remember, sweetie, we need to be calm and quiet for Dad. He's coming back." Plankton blinked rapidly, his senses slowly returning. He looked at his son, then at his wife, feeling a mix of emotions - fear, guilt, exposed, understanding, mortification. Suddenly, a tic took over. His face scrunched up involuntarily. Chip had never seen his dad do this before! "It's okay," Karen whispered quickly to Chip, sensing his alarm. "Sometimes, Dad's brain needs to do little things to get all the energy out. It's just a part of his autism." "Kkr-kr-kr-kr," Plankton stims. Chip leaned in, his eyes still full of unshed tears. "You okay, Da-" "I'm fi-fi-fine," Plankton interrupted, his voice still stuttering. Karen turns to their son. "Chip, sometimes Dad's brain needs to make little noises or movements to get all the extra energy out." He had managed to keep this part of himself hidden from his son for so long, and now, here he was, exposed and vulnerable in front of him. Chip studied his dad's tics closely. Plankton's eye was blinking rapidly, and his tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth, creating a staccato. Chip leaned closer, trying to mimic the sound with his own mouth. "You sound like a dolphin! How do-" "Chip," Plankton interrupted, his voice tight with anger and self consciousness, "that's ENOUGH, so STOP IT." The sharpness of Plankton's tone cut through the room, silencing Chip's curiosity. He hadn't meant to upset his dad. He just wanted to make him feel better. The twitches and noises of his tics had now stopped, but the tension was palpable. "I-I'm sorry, Dad," Chip stuttered, his voice small. Tears glistened in his eyes. Karen looked at Plankton with concern. "Honey," she began gently, "we need to talk to Chip about this. He doesn't know what's happe—" "I KNOW what's happening!" Plankton snapped, cutting her off. His anger was palpable. "He doesn't need to see this!" The room fell silent except for the sound of Plankton's quick, shallow breaths. Karen swallowed hard, knowing that she had to handle this situation with care. But Plankton didn't want his son to see him like this, so out of control. "Get out!" he shouted at Chip. "I don't want you here!" His voice was raw, his emotions spilling over. Chip's eyes widened in shock, his mouth dropping open in a gasp. He had never seen his dad so angry before. His heart was racing, his own chest tight with fear. "But, Dad-" he began. "I said get̴ out!" Chip scurried away, his feet thumping on the floor as he rushed to leave. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving him in the hallway. He leaned against the wall, his breaths coming in quick, sharp gasps. Tears rolled down Chip's screen as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. His dad had never yells at him like that. He felt a pang of hurt, but also fear. What had he done wrong? He just wanted to help. Karen stepped out of the room, leaving Plankton alone with his guilt. She knelt down beside Chip, pulling him into a warm embrace. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Dad didn't mean to scare you. He's just overwhelmed." Chip sniffled, his eyes still on the closed door. "But why is he so mad?" he asked, his voice small and shaky. Karen sighed. "He's not mad at you, Chip. He's just scared and confused. Sometimes his brain gets too much information, and it's hard for him to handle it all." Chip looked up at his mom, his eyes searching hers for understanding. "But why did he tell me to leave?" Karen took a deep breath. "Chip, your dad loves you so much," she said, her voice soft and gentle. "But sometimes his autism makes him feel things really intensely. He's not mad at you, he's just upset because he didn't want you to see him like that. Sometimes, when people with autism get overwhelmed, their emotions can come out in big ways, even when they don't mean to scare us." Chip wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "But why doesn't he tell me about it?" he asked, his voice quivering. "Why does it have to be a secret?" Karen sighed heavily. "Because sometimes, people feel embarrassed or scared to talk about things that make them different." She rubbed his back soothingly. "But now that you know, we can help him feel less alone." Chip nodded, but his heart was still racing. He didn't understand why his dad couldn't just tell him. "But he was so angry," he murmured. Karen nodded, her eyes sad. "I know it's hard, but it's important we talk to him about it," she said. "We need to let him know we're here for him." They both took deep breaths, preparing themselves for the conversation ahead. They walked back into the room, where Plankton still sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. "Plankton," Karen began, her voice soft. "We need to talk to him about your autism." But Plankton was still too lost in his own head to listen. He sat there, his antennae twitching rapidly, his body swaying slightly. He was in his own world. Karen watched him, her heart aching. She knew his anger wasn't directed at Chip, but at himself, his own limitations. She also knew that this was the best time to start the conversation they had been avoiding. "Plankton," she said softly. "We need to tell Chip about what your autis–" "NO!" Plankton shouted, his stims escalating. "It's none of his business!" He shouts, looking at Chip. Chip's eyes widened at his dad's outburst. He had never seen him like this. Karen's grip on Chip's hand tightened, but she didn't move to leave. "Plankton," she said, her voice calm, but firm, "Chip found you. He's already seen i---" "I DIDN'T WANT HIM TO SEE!" Plankton's voice was sharp, his body shaking slightly. "I DON'T WANT HIM TO KNOW ANYMORE!" The words echoed in the room, each one a dull thud to Karen's heart. Plankton's stims were more pronounced now, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth in a rapid, nervous pattern. "Kkr-kr-kr," he repeated, his eye squeezed shut. Chip watched, his small chest rising and falling with quick breaths. He had never seen his dad like this, so out of control. But his fear was now mingled with curiosity. "What's happening, Mom?" he whispered. "It's okay, sweetie," Karen assured him, her voice still calm despite the tension in the room. "Dad's just trying to make sense of everything. Sometimes, people with autism do things called stims to help them cope."

𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 12 by NeuroFabulous Karen notices the shift in the room and decides to change the topic. "Why don't we talk about something else?" she suggests, her voice soft. "Maybe something that makes you both happy." Chip nods, his eyes still on his dad's hand. "Okay," he says, his voice tentative. "Dad, what's your favorite stim?" Plankton's hand stops momentarily, and he looks at Chip with a flicker of irritation. "Why?" he asks, his voice tight. "What's your problem Chip?" Chip's eyes widen in surprise. "I-I just want to be closer to you," he stammers, his voice filled with confusion. Plankton's antennae twitch with agitation. "I know," he says through clenched teeth, "but you can't just take what's mine and make it into your own!" Chip's eyes fill with tears, his heart aching. "But I didn't mean to-" Plankton's voice is sharp, cutting through the air. "You didn't mean to what? It's not like I can just ask your permission on how I'm allowed to experience my own body! Better yet, as a matter of fact, why don't you teach me how I can and cannot feel! I mean, since you're so expert in all things autism. Go on, Chip. Educate me!" Chip's eyes water, his face contorted with a mix of hurt and bewilderment. "D-dad," he stammers, his voice quivering. "I just wanted to be understood. I didn't mean to—" But Plankton's sarcasm continues, each word laced with frustration. "Oh, so now you're an expert on what I can and can't do? Dr. Chip, when’d you get your degree in Autism Spectrum Disorder? And how do you want me to stim? Should I get it approved by you first? Because if I don't, oh your minor inconvenience might just turn into a major catastrophe!" Chip shrinks back, his heart racing. He had no idea his curiosity could cause so much pain. "Dad," he says, his voice shaking. "I'm sorry. I just-" But Plankton's anger has been unleashed. "You just what, Chip?" he says, his voice rising. "You just want to play autism detective? You think because you know a few things about stims that you get to dictate how I live? Oh I don't know how I got anywhere without your guidance!" His sarcasm is thick, each word a barb that hits its mark. Chip's eyes fill with tears. "Dad, I just-" But Plankton's rant continues, his voice shaking with frustration. "Just what, Chip? What is it you just do? You just want to play at being autistic? You think you can just waltz in and 'get it' because you've seen a thing or two?" His sarcasm is bitter, his words sharp. "Well you're the one who gets to decide how I should live my life; it's all yours! You obviously know so much more than I do about what's good for me. Right? I wouldn't dare hesitate to defy your orders, SIR! Do you have a hyperbaric chamber I should use? Perhaps if that doesn't work, we could try some homeopathic therapy!" Chip's eyes are brimming with tears now, his voice barely above a whisper. "Wait, a hyper homo what?" "Just FORGET IT!" Plankton yells, as Karen turns to Chip. Her eyes are filled with concern. "Why don't you go to your room, sweetie?" she suggests. Chip nods, his eyes glued to the floor. He knows he's made a mistake, and the weight of it is crushing him. He slinks out of the room, his shoulders slumped with regret. Plankton's chest heaves as he takes a deep breath. He knows he shouldn't have snapped at Chip, but the frustration had been building. Karen's eyes are on Plankton, her gaze filled with both understanding and patience. "It's okay," she says, her voice a gentle balm. "You're upset. It's okay to be upset. Do you need some space?" Plankton's antennas twitch, his eye searching hers. He nods, his voice tight. "Yes." Karen nods, her own eyes filled with emotion. "I understand," she says, her voice soft. She leans over and kisses his head, before going into Chip's bedroom. She finds Chip sitting on his bed, his shoulders slumped. "Chip," she says, her voice gentle. "Come here, please." He looks up at her, his eyes red and swollen. "I didn't mean to hurt his feelings," he whispers. Karen sits beside him, pulling him into a warm embrace. "I know, sweetie," she says, her voice soothing. "I remember once, when he was stimming, I accidentally interrupted by trying to hug him. It didn't go over well." Chip sniffs, looking up at his mom. "But why can't I do his stims with him?" he asks, his voice small. Karen holds him closer, her heart aching for her son's confusion. "Because his stims are his way of coping," she explains. "They're personal to him. It's like if someone tried to take over your favorite game without asking or understanding it. It might not feel right. You'd feel frustrated." Chip nods slightly, understanding dawning in his eyes. "So it's like if someone tried to play with my Legos without knowing how I like to build them?" "Exactly," Karen says. "It's his way of playing with his mind. And just like you have your Lego sets, he has his stims. Some autistics share them, but for your dad, they're his alone. And just like we respect your Lego creations, we have to respect his stims." Chip nods, his eyes still on the floor. "But I just want to make him feel better," he says, his voice small. Karen sighs, her expression filled with both love and concern. "I know you do, Chip," she says. "But sometimes, trying to fix things can make them worse. Your dad's autism isn't something to be fixed; it's part of who he is. And while we can help him cope, we also need to respect his boundaries." Chip nods, his cheeks still wet with tears. "Ok," he whispers. "But," Karen adds, her voice firm but kind. "You can still support him. When you see him getting overwhelmed, offer him a quiet space to retreat to. And if he needs a gentle touch, ask first. It's about being there for him in the way he needs you to be. Sometimes he'll sit in my lap as I rock with him side to side. And even then, I have to make sure I read his cues." Chip nods, his eyes bright with the desire to make it right. "Okay," he says. "I'll do better." Karen's smile is soft. "I know you will," she says. "Now, let's go talk to him."

𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 13 by NeuroFabulous They enter the bed room, where Plankton still sat on his bed. He had his box of sensory items in front of him. Karen approaches carefully, her eyes full of empathy. "Plankton," she says, sitting down next to him. "Chip's just trying to understand. He loves you and wants to help." Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye still firmly on his box. Chip leans over and sees various aids. Ear phones, squishy balls, fidget toys, stuffed plushies, even a black out curtain rod. "Dad, what are these?" he asks, his voice soft. But Plankton's not quite over his irritation. "Take a picture, it'll last longer," he mumbles, hugging the box as he turns away. Karen puts a hand on Chip's shoulder. "Those are his sensory aids," she explains, her voice calm. "They help him when he's feeling overwhelmed." Chip looks up, his eyes filled with curiosity. "Can I se-" "NO," Plankton snaps, his voice sharp. Karen's hand squeezes Chip's. "Your dad considers these as his personal space," she whispers. "But you can ask him to show you how they work." Chip nods, his eyes still on the box. He swallows his curiosity and speaks up, "Dad, can you show me whaa-" But Plankton cuts him off again. "I'll show you when, IF, I'm ready," he says, his voice still edgy. "For now, just leave me alone.." Chip's eyes water, but he nods. He understands his dad needs space, yet he's hurt that he can't just help like he wants to. Karen gives Chip a squeeze. "It's okay," she whispers. "You're learning." Chip nods, his eyes still on Plankton, who's now breathing deeply, his hands moving over the items in his sensory box. Karen watches the two of them, her heart swelling with love and understanding. Plankton's autism isn't easy, but she's dedicated to making sure they all navigate it together. She reaches out to Plankton, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We're here for you," she says, her voice soft. Plankton's antennae twitch, but he doesn't pull away. He's still upset, but Karen's presence is soothing. "I know," he murmurs, his hand still moving through his sensory box. Chip watches, his eyes filled with a mix of longing and regret. He wishes he could share his dad's world, but he knows that's not how it works. Karen's hand on Plankton's shoulder is a reminder of the bond they share, the silent understanding that comes with knowing someone so intimately. And Chip wants to be like his mom with the ability to share. Karen feels Plankton's body relax slightly under her touch. His breathing becomes less ragged. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice low, almost lost. "For what?" she asks, stroking his arm gently. "For being you," he says, his antennae drooping. "For understanding." Chip feels a pang of longing, wanting to be a part of this. Karen notices his sadness and gestures for him to come over. "You're a part of this, too, Chip," she says, her voice soothing. Chip sits on the edge of the bed, his hand hovering over Plankton's. Plankton glances up, his eye seeing the unshed tears. "Chip's NOT a part of this." Karen's voice is calm and firm. "Plankton," she says, her hand still on his shoulder. "Chip is a part of this family, and he's trying to understand you. We-" "I don't need him to understand," Plankton interrupts, his voice sharp. "I just need him to leave me alone!" Karen's gaze remains steady, her voice calm. "Plankton," she says firmly, "You know Chip loves you. He's just trying to help." Chip nods, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Yeah Dad, I---" But Plankton pulls away. "Chip's not a part of this," he says. Chip's heart drops, feeling the weight of his father's words. He tries to put his hand on his dad's shoulder again, but Plankton flinches. Plankton's hand suddenly stops moving as his antennae spike in overwhelm. He can't take it, can't take anymore. "Chip, go," he whispers, his voice tight with the effort of containing his agitation. "Please.." Chip shakes his head. "No, Dad; I'm NOT leaving you." Plankton's stims intensify, his hands now flapping. The room seems to spin around him as he tries to process the world in a way that makes sense to his overwhelmed brain. Chip's heart aches, but he wants to do something, to help in some way, but he doesn't know how. Plankton's stims become more frantic, his hands now flapping at his sides. His breathing is rapid, his body tense. Chip feels like he's intruding, but he can't bring himself to leave. Karen watches, her heart breaking for both of them. She knows Plankton's stims are his way of coping, yet seeing Chip's pain is hard. "Why don't you sit by him," she suggests. "But don't touch unless he asks." Chip nods, moving closer to his dad, his eyes following the erratic movements. Plankton's stims grow more intense. His body sways, his hands flap. His eye closes tightly, his mouth moving in silent sounds that not even he himself can understand. Chip sits by his side with concern, but he knows his dad needs him. He watches Plankton's stims closely, his heart swelling with love and worry. He can see the tension in his father's body, the way he rocks back and forth slightly, his hands moving in a pattern. Chip tries to mirror the movements, hoping to somehow share. But Plankton's reaction isn't what he expects. His eye flies open, turning to see Chip mimicking his stims, his hands moving in the same erratic pattern. Plankton's antennae flinch, his body stiffening. "STOP!" he yells, his voice raw. Chip's eyes are wide with surprise, then fill with determination. "But Dad," he says, his voice steady. "I'm just trying to be there for you." Plankton's body language doesn't soften. "You're not getting it. This isn't a game you can just play when you feel like it. These are mine. They're private." Chip's eyes fill with understanding. "I'm sorry, Dad," he says. "I didn't mean to make it seem like that." But Plankton's not ready to hear it. He turns away, now suppressing his stims with a grimace. But Chip doesn't let up. "I'm not playing games, Dad," Chip says, his voice quiet but firm. "I just am making an effort to observe and connect." But Plankton's anger doesn't diminish. "You can't connect with me by playing copycat!" he snaps, his voice filled with pain. "You don't get to—" "Dad, I'm sorry," Chip interrupts, his voice trembling. "I just want to be here for you." Plankton's antennae twitch, his body still tense. "But you're not," he whispers. "You're not like me, Chip." Chip's eyes water, his voice trembling. "But I want to be there for yo--" "NO," Plankton says, his voice firm. "You can't be." He turns away again. Chip feels the sting of his father's rejection, but his resolve to support doesn't waver. He takes a deep breath. "Dad, I know I'm not autistic, but I can learn. I can be there for you like Mom is, so just tell me—" But Plankton's voice interrupts him, "No, Chip," he says, his tone exasperated. "You can't just learn to be there for me. It's not something you can just pick up. It's something you either get or you don't. And right now, you're not getting it." His hands clutch the bedspread.

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

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.

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.

𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 5 by NeuroFabulous Finally Plankton's eye focused slightly, and he looked from Chip to Karen. He tried to sit up, but his body was still weak. "What happened?" he asked, his voice confused as he wiped the drool from his mouth. Karen took a deep breath, her heart swelling with love for her husband. "You had a seizure, sweetie," she said, her voice gentle. "But you're okay now." Plankton's antennae twitched, his mind racing as he tried to understand. He looked from Karen to Chip, his son's face still wet with tears. "Chip...I'm...I'm sorry," he stuttered, his body still trembling. Chip smiled tentatively, his eyes never leaving his dad's face. "It's okay, Dad," he said. "I just want you to be okay." The room was silent for a moment, filled only with the sound of Plankton's labored breathing. Karen felt relief, but she knew the conversation they had put off was now unavoidable. "Plankton," she began, her voice calm and steady. "Chip saw you having a seizure. And he heard me talking about your... neurodisability." She paused, trying to find the right words. "We need to tell him more about your autism. Why don't you start telling him?" Plankton looked at his wife, his face a canvas of fear and uncertainty. But he knew she was right. He had to tell Chip. He took a deep breath. "I'm autistic; I was born this way. It's like...my brain is a different operating system," he began, his voice shaking. Chip's eyes widened in interest, his curiosity overriding his fear. "But what's that mean?" "It means," he began, "that sometimes my brain does things differently than yours. And when it gets overwhelmed, like with too much noise or too many people, I might have a reaction that looks like what, whatever you saw." Chip's curiosity grew, his fear dissipating. "So, you're like a... a... a..." He searched for the right word, his mind racing. And then it slipped out. "A ret-..." Chip whispered, his voice filled with innocence. The room went cold, Karen's heart sinking as she saw the look on Plankton's face. Without another word, Plankton abruptly got up, leaving Chip's room and slamming the door behind him. Chip looked at her, his eyes questioning. "Mom," Chip said, his voice small and scared, "Wh-" "Chip," Karen said, her voice sharp, "That's not a word you should use to describe your dad!" She was upset, hurt by the ignorance his innocent question had revealed. Chip's smile disappeared, replaced by confusion. "But I didn't do anyth—" "Chip," Karen interrupted, her voice firm. "What you just said was hurtful. His autism is no..." Karen took a deep breath, her eyes filled with a mix of anger and sadness. "You need to understand that words can hurt, especially when you don't know what you're talking about. Because that term, it's not nice, and it's not what we say to describe neurodisabled people." Chip looked down at his hands, his cheeks flushing. He hadn't meant to hurt his dad, hadn't even known what he was saying was wrong. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, his voice small. Karen took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She knew Chip was just a child, trying to make sense. "It's okay," she said finally, her voice softer. "But we have to learn to be careful with our words." She took his hand. "Let's go talk to him together." They found Plankton on his own bed, his back to them, sniffling. "Dad," Chip called out, his small voice breaking the silence. "I di-" But Plankton's body tensed, his antennae shooting up in alarm. "I don't want to talk to you," he said, angrily. "I need to be alone." Karen's heart broke for them both. She knew that this was a pivotal moment, one that could either push them apart or bring them closer. She took a step forward. "Plankton, Chip just wants to underst--" But Plankton's voice was harsh. "No." Chip took a step back, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. He hadn't meant to upset his dad. "But Dad," he began again, his voice trembling. Karen stepped in, placing a gentle hand on Chip's shoulder. "Just give him some space," she said, her voice calm but firm. "He's upset, and needs time to process." Chip nodded, his eyes still on his dad's back. He felt a mix of guilt and sorrow. He knew he'd hurt his dad. "Ok," he murmurs. Karen squeezed Chip's shoulder, her eyes never leaving Plankton's tense form. She knew he was in a world of his own, trying to soothe his overstimulated brain. She watched as he began to rub his hand against the bed's fabric, a stim of his. It was a motion she had seen a thousand times before. With a heavy heart, she knew she had to approach Plankton gently. She took a tentative step forward, her eyes locked onto his back. "Plankton," she said softly. "I know you're upset." Plankton's shoulders tightened, but he didn't turn around. Karen's hand was steady as she reached out to touch his arm. But he flinched, pulling away. She moved closer, her hand on his shoulder. "Plankton," she said softly. "Please, talk to me. We love you." He didn't respond, but his stims slowed. Karen knew his autism made it hard for him to express himself, especially when he was overwhelmed. She sat beside him, her hand on his back. "You're okay," she whispers, her voice gentle. Plankton's body stiffened, his antennae drooping. "I'm not okay," he murmured, his voice thick with self-loathing. "I am not feeling okay right now." Karen's eyes searched his face, her heart aching. "I know," she said, her voice soothing. "But you're not alone." She paused, her hand still on his back. "Chip's just trying to understand." Plankton's body was still tense, his breathing erratic. "I don't want him to see me like this," he whispered. "I don't want others to see me like this." Karen wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer. "But that's what makes you, you," she said, her voice firm but filled with love. "And we love you just the way you are." Plankton's shoulders began to shake as he finally let out a sob. He buried his face in her chest, his body trembling with the weight of his emotions. Karen held him tightly, whispering words of comfort. "You're not weak," she said firmly. "You're different, and that's ok. You're still the stubborn, brave, strong man I fell in love with." Her words were like a balm to his tortured soul.

𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 6 by NeuroFabulous Plankton's sobs grew softer, his body slowly relaxing into hers. He's exhausted from today's events, and his eye had fluttered shut. Karen stroked his back, her mind racing. They needed to explain to Chip about autism, and they needed to do it now. It was time to break the silence and start a conversation that was long overdue. "Chip," she called out, her voice gentle, "can you come back here, sweetie?" Chip came, his eyes red from crying. He slowly approached, his heart racing. "Dad?" Plankton's eye then flitted open, and he looked at his wife, then his son. He felt so tired, his mind a jumbled mess. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, his eye half-lidded with fatigue. "Don't be sorry," Karen said. "Come sit," she beckoned to Chip, who approached slowly. He climbed onto the bed, his eyes never leaving his dad's face. Plankton's eye was half-closed, his body heavy with sleep. Karen knew the emotional outburst had exhausted him. "What's autism, Mom?" Chip's voice was filled with curiosity. "It's a part of your dad's brain," Karen began, carefully choosing her words. "It's something he was born with." Chip looked at her, his eyes still wide with question. "But what does it do?" Karen took a deep breath, stroking Plankton's back. "Well," she said, "it makes him see the world a little differently. Sometimes, his brain gets really busy, like when there's a lot of noise or when things are too bright. It can be hard for him to handle. And sometimes, when he's had a big seizure, he gets like this," she gestured to his sleepy form in her arms. Chip studied his father's face, his curiosity piqued. "Does that mean he's sick?" Karen looked at her son, her heart heavy with the weight of the truth. "No, Chip," she said, her voice soothing. "It's like having a different kind of brain that sometimes needs extra care and understanding. Dad's autism is like his brain's special way of working," Karen explained, her voice calm and even. "It's like a computer sometimes runs really fast or really slow, and we just need to know how to help him when it's too much." Chip nodded. He thought about his own video games, how his console sometimes glitched or lagged. He couldn't imagine his dad feeling like that. "But what about his stims?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. Karen took a deep breath, her heart racing as she tried to explain. "His stims are like little things he does to help his brain feel better. It's kind of like when you pace. But he doesn't like for us to call attention to them," Karen said gently, trying to find the right words to explain. Chip nodded. "But why did he get so mad?" "Because," Karen said, her voice soft, "his brain was overwhelmed. Sometimes autistic people can get upset when they don't feel understood. And when you used that bad word, it just reminded him of all the times people have said things without knowing what it means to be autistic." Chip's eyes grew wide with realization. "But I didn't know it was bad," he said, his voice tiny as tears threatened to spill over. And Plankton's body tensed at the mention of the word. "Well," Plankton began, his voice thick with sarcasm, "now you know." His tone was sharp, his anger palpable. "So, now that you've seen the freak show, you can tell all your friends!" Chip's eyes filled with hurt at his father's harsh words. "Dad, I didn't mean to up-" "Oh, you didn't mean to?" Plankton interrupts. "Aw, are you gonna give me the 'I'm just a kid' excuse?" His tone was laced with anger and sarcasm. "Well, here's a newsflash, kiddo: words have consequences. So maybe you can tell all your little pals about how 'fun' it is to have a dad who turns into a blubbering mess at the drop of a hat! Is that right, little man?" Karen's grip on Plankton's arm tightened. "Plankton," she said, her voice firm but filled with love. "That's en-" But Plankton's anger would not be contained. "What, Karen?" he snapped, his eye glaring at Chip. "You think I don't know what he's going to do? That he's not going to tell his friends?" Chip's lip quivered, his heart racing with fear and guilt. He didn't understand why his dad was so upset. "I-I won't," he promised, his voice shaking. "I didn't know. And I'm sor—" But Plankton's sarcasm continued, his voice sharp as a knife. "Oh, you're sorry," he spat. "That fixes everything, doesn't it? Ohhhhhhhh look, Chip's such a good boy, he said sorry!" He mocked, his antennae waving erratically. Chip felt a knot form in his stomach, his cheeks burning with shame. He didn't know what to say. He hadn't meant to upset his dad. "Plankton," Karen's voice was firm, "that is enough. You're scaring him." Chip's eyes filled with tears, his voice trembling. "I just want to know why you're acting so mad," he choked out. Plankton's antennae drooped, the anger in his voice giving way to frustration. "I just want to be by myself," he said, his voice low. Chip looks at his mother, his eyes pleading. Karen nodded, her heart breaking for both of them. "Okay," she said gently. "We'll leave you alone for now. But remember, we love you." She kissed his forehead. Chip climbed off the bed. "I'm sorry, Dad," he whispered before exiting the room, his tiny legs carrying him as fast as they could to his own room. Karen watched him go, her heart aching. She turned to Plankton, who was now lying on his side. "Why do you have to be so hard on him?" she asked, her voice filled with frustration and love. "He didn't know what he was sa-" "I know," Plankton cut her off, his voice tired. "I know he didn't know. But it doesn't change the fact that it's hurting me.." Karen sat next to him, silent for a moment. She knew his anger was a defense mechanism, a way to protect himself from the fear and pain of being misunderstood. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her hand on his arm. "But you're right, what he said was hurtful. That's why I wanted us to explain." Plankton sighed, his body slowly deflating. "I know you're trying to help," he said, his voice tired. Karen leaned in, her eyes filled with compassion. "And we're here for you," she said firmly. "We're a team. You don't have to..." But Plankton's eye closed. "I know," he murmured. "But sometimes...it's just so hard. I'm tired.." Karen nodded, her hand still on his arm. "I know, sweetie," she said, her voice gentle. "But Chip loves you. He just needs to understand. And we ca--" But her words were interrupted by Plankton's snores. Karen sighs, stroking his arm. She knew these conversations weren't over, but for now, he needed rest. She leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. "I'll take care of him," she whispered. With a heavy heart, she got up from the bed and closed the door behind them. She found Chip in his own room, sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyes fixed on the floor.

𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 10 by NeuroFabulous Chip's eyes searched his father's, looking for the reassurance he so desperately needed. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I didn't mean to upset you." Plankton's hand squeezed back, a silent acknowledgment of his apology. "You didn't do anything wrong," Karen said, smiling. "It's just how his brain works." Chip nodded, trying to understand. "But he's okay?" he asked again, needing to hear it. "Yes, he's okay," Karen reassured him, her eyes still on Plankton. "But he might need some time to recalibrate now." Chip nodded, his grip on his dad's hand tightening. "Can I stay with you?" he asked, not wanting to leave his side. Karen looked at Chip and then at Plankton, who nodded slightly. "Of course," she said, her voice soft. Chip swallowed hard, his eyes still filled with tears. "Dad," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I love you." Plankton's antennas twitched slightly, and his hand gave a weak squeeze in response. It was the only way he could convey his love at that moment. Chip watched his dad, his heart racing. He knew his father's autism made expressing emotions difficult, but he could feel the love in that small gesture. He leaned in closer, not wanting to let go. "I love you too, Dad," he murmured. Plankton's eye searched his son's face, trying to find the words. The seizure had left him drained, but his love for Chip was clear. He took a deep breath, his antennas slowly coming to rest. "I-I l-love, lo-ove y-you," he said. The words came out haltingly, each syllable a victory. Chip's eyes lit up, and he squeezed his dad's hand back, feeling his love reciprocated. "I know, Dad," he said, his voice filled with relief. "I love you too." Plankton took another deep breath, his body starting to relax. The seizure had left him exhausted, but the warmth of his son's touch and his wife's gentle voice were calming him. Chip watched his dad, his heart racing. He could see the effort it took for Plankton to say those words, and he understood that his love was just as strong, even if it didn't come out the way he expected. He squeezed his dad's hand again. "It's okay," he whispered. "I'll stay here." Karen nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. She knew the difficulty Plankton faced daily, and seeing him have a seizure in front of Chip was hard. But she also knew this was a chance for them to grow closer, to understand each other better. "Why don't we just sit here for a bit?" she suggested, her voice gentle. Chip nodded, not letting go of Plankton's hand. He felt his dad's warmth, his love. Plankton's gaze slowly turned back to Karen. "Chip; I need Chip. I want him to stay," he managed to say. Karen nodded. "Of course! We'll just stay right here." They sat in silence, the three of them, as Plankton's breathing evened out. Chip's thumb rubbed circles on his dad's hand, trying to soothe him without words. Plankton's eye closed again. Karen watched her husband and son, her heart full of love and pride. Chip had handled the situation with more maturity than she could've hoped for. He was learning, growing, understanding his father's autism. As Plankton's breathing steadied, Karen leaned in closer. "Chip," she whispered, "your dad needs some rest now. But you can sit here with him if you want." Chip nodded, not wanting to leave his dad's side. He watched as Plankton's antennas stopped moving. "Ok," he murmured. Karen got up, her movements slow and calculated. She knew Plankton needed quiet and darkness after a seizure. She dimmed the lights and before sitting back down. Chip remained on the edge of the bed, his small hand still enveloped in his father's smaller one. He heard Plankton's breathing deepen into sleep, the quiet snores that signaled that he finally dozed off. The room was quiet, save for the soft snores that escaped Plankton's mouth. Karen and Chip sat next to him, Chip's hand still clutched tightly in his dad's. He was afraid to move, afraid to disturb the fragile peace that had settled over Plankton. Karen watched them, a warm smile playing on her lips. She knew that this was a moment of connection, a bridge being built between father and son. Chip leaned closer, studying Plankton's face, his dad's mouth slightly open as he snored. He was fascinated, and his mom knew he wanted to do more. "Mom can I ask you questions?" Chip asked, his voice barely a whisper. Plankton's antennas twitched slightly, but he didn't wake up. "Sure," Karen said, smiling gently. "But keep your voice low. He needs his rest." Chip nodded and leaned in closer to his mom. "What are his stims?" he asked, his eyes glued to his father's sleeping form. Karen's smile was soft. "His stims are self-soothing behaviors," she explained. "They're like little rituals that help him manage his sensory input. Sometimes he'll mumble or move his hands, or rock back and forth. It's a way of dealing with the world around him." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving his dad's sleeping face. "Can I try stims with him?" he asked, his voice a mere whisper. Karen looked at him, surprise flickering in her expression. "If he's okay with it," she said, her voice soft. "But remember, it's his way of coping. We have to respect that. Do not make fun of it. He's not doing it for fun; it's more a necessity." Chip nodded solemnly, his eyes still on his dad. "I won't," he promised. "But can I try it right no-" Karen's eyes widened. "No," she said firmly. "It's not about trying them out. It's about understanding why he does them. Stims are his way, not something for us to play with. He doesn't like when it's brought to attention." Chip nodded, his curiosity dimming slightly. He just wanted to be closer to his dad, to know him better. He looked back down at Plankton, his small hand still wrapped around his father's. He leaned in closer to his mom, his eyes wide with questions. "But why can't I do it?" he asked, his voice still a whisper. "I want to know what it feels li—" Karen put a gentle finger to his lips. "Chip, his stims are personal," she said, her voice soft. "They're how he calms his brain. It's like if you were to play with my favorite book; it's special to him." Chip nodded, his eyes still wide. "Ok," he said. "But why does he like your touch but not mine?" Karen took a moment to think. "It's because I know his patterns, his cues," she said. "I can tell when he needs space or when he's okay with contact. I know which touches calm him down. It's not that he doesn't like your touch, Chip; it's just that his brain is sensitive. Sometimes it's too much for him to handle." Chip nodded, his eyes still on Plankton. He wanted to make his dad happy, to make it all better. But he knew he couldn't. "Can you show me how he likes to be touched?" Karen looked at him, her expression a mix of pride and concern. "Sure, sweetie," she said, and she gently took Chip's hand and placed it near Plankton's arm. "Just stroke his arm lightly," she instructed, guiding Chip's fingers.

𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 11 by NeuroFabulous Chip's eyes never left his dad's face as he did as his mom said. Plankton's body remained still, his breathing even. Karen smiled. "See, that's it," she whispered. "It's all about knowing when and how to touch." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, but he remained asleep. Chip watched him closely, his curiosity piqued. He wanted to understand everything about his dad's condition. "So, what types of touch does he not like?" Karen thought for a moment. "Sudden touches, like taps or pokes, can be startling for him," she explained. "And hugs can be overwhelming unless he's ready for them. It's about knowing his cues." Chip nodded, his hand still on Plankton's arm, moving in the gentle strokes his mom had taught him. He felt a strange sense of connection, like he was learning a secret language only they shared. "What are his cues, like how do you know when he needs a hug or space?" he asked. Karen leaned in closer, her voice low. "Look at his body language," she said. "If he's leaning in, it might mean he's okay with a hug. But always ask first. And if he says no, don't take it personally. It's not about you; it's about his comfort. But if he's leaning away or his antennae are moving quickly, it's best to ask if he needs some space." Chip nodded, watching his dad's antennae. They were still, a sign of peace. He felt a warmth spread through him, knowing that he was learning how to make his dad feel safe and loved. "I want to know more," he whispered. Karen's eyes searched his, and she saw the eagerness in his gaze. "Okay," she said, her voice calm. "What do you want to know?" Chip's mind raced with questions, but he took a deep breath to focus. "What causes his seizures?" he asked, his voice soft. Karen looked at him, her eyes filled with compassion. "Sensory overload," she said. "It's like his brain gets too much information at once, and it can't process it all. Sometimes it's just too much, and his body has a reaction." Chip nodded, his thumb still rubbing his dad's hand in soothing circles. "But how can I tell when he's about to have one?" Karen squeezed Chip's other hand gently. "Look for changes in his behavior," she said. "If he gets really quiet, or if his stims get more intense. And his eye glazes over. If you see any of that, just offer him a gentle touch or a quiet space to retreat to." "Can you tell me how he got his autism?" he asked Karen, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn't want to wake his dad, but he wanted to learn. Karen looked at him, her eyes filled with patience. "It was acquired at birth. When his own mother gave birth to him, his head was in a weird angle. It's nothing anyone did or could've prevented." Chip nodded, his fingers still moving in the gentle pattern on his dad's arm. "So it's not because of any-" But his question was interrupted by a soft moan from Plankton. Chip's eyes widened, his hand frozen mid-stroke. Plankton's antennas twitched, and his eye flitted open. He looked up at them. "Hi there, sleepy head" Karen said with a smile, her voice barely above a whisper. Plankton managed to wave. "Hi," he said. Chip's eyes lit up, his fear from earlier melted away by his dad's small gesture. "Hi, Dad," he whispered, his hand still on Plankton's arm. Plankton's gaze searched his son's face, his expression a mix of fatigue and love. He knew Chip was still scared, still confused. "I'm okay," he said. Chip nodded, his eyes filled with relief. He wanted to ask more questions, but he could see his dad was tired. "Okay," he said. "I'm here for you." Plankton's smile was subtle, but it was there. He reached out his hand and gave Chip's a gentle squeeze. It was his way of saying 'thank you'. Karen watched them, her heart full. "Why don't we let him rest?" she suggested, her voice low. "You can sit here and read by him." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face. He picked up a book and settled into the bed with his dad. Plankton's hand then moved in a repetitive motion against the bedspread, a gentle back-and-forth that seemed to soothe him. He started to murmur. "Soft with the fabric," he whispered in the stim. Chip watched him, his curiosity growing. He wanted to try it, but wasn't sure if it was appropriate. "Mom," he whispered. "Can I do his stim with hi-" But before he could finish his sentence, Plankton's hand stilled on the bedspread. "No Chip," he said, his voice steadier. "Do NOT." Chip's eyes widened. "But I just want to help," he protested, his voice whispered. Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye closing slightly. "It's personal," he murmured. Chip felt his cheeks heat up. "I'm sorry," he whispers. But Plankton's hand was already moving again. "Fabrics," he said, his voice still low. "The texture i---" But Chip interrupts, his hand tentatively mimicking his dad's motion. "Like this?" he asks, disrupting Plankton's stim. Plankton's hand stops, his antennas flinching back. "No," he says, his voice harsh. "It's mine." Chip withdraws his hand quickly, his eyes wide with shock and apology. "I'm sorry, Dad," he says, his voice a whisper. "I just wanted to help. But why did you whisper to yourself about the fabric? I--" "CHIP," Plankton snaps. "Didn't I tell you not to?" his voice is firm, almost angry. Chip's eyes filled with sadness. Karen quickly intervenes, "Plankton, it's okay. Chip was just trying to be su—" But Plankton's anger is difficult to quell. His body tenses, his antennae twitching erratically. "I-it's not for him," he stammers out. "MINE!" The room goes quiet, the tension palpable. Chip retreats slightly, his hand still hovering in the air where it had been touching the fabric. "I-I'm sorry, Da-" But Plankton's eye shut tight. "Chip," Karen says, her voice even. "Remember what we talked about. His stims are not for us to take over or interrupt. Just let him do his thing." Chip nods, his eyes brimming with apology. He watches as Plankton's hand starts moving again. He doesn't know what to say, his mind racing with confusion. He just wanted to be closer to his dad, to understand him better. But instead, he feels like he's made things worse.

𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 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."

𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 7 by NeuroFabulous "Hey, Chip," Karen said, sitting beside him. "You know, your dad loves you more than anyth—" But Chip's voice was small, filled with doubt. "But he was so mad," he whimpered. Karen wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. "I know, sweetie," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "But he's just tired and overwhelmed." Chip leaned into her embrace, his eyes still fixed on the floor. "But why does he get so close to you, and not me?" Karen's heart clenched at his question. She knew how much Plankton loved their son, but autism didn't always make it easy to show it in the ways Chip understood. "Sweetie, your dad's brain just works a little differently. Sometimes when he's overwhelmed, he needs to be close to me. We've been together for a long time, and I know how what can or cannot upset him." Chip nodded, his cheek pressed against her side. "But what about me?" he asked, his voice muffled. "You're his son," Karen said, her voice filled with conviction. "You're a part of him. And he loves you so much. Eventually you'll understand each other as you learn more about his autism. Just be patient." With those words, she stood up and tucked him in his bed, planting a gentle kiss on his forehead. "We love you, Chip," she whispered before turning off the lights. "Good night.." Going back to her own bed, she could still hear Plankton's faint snores coming from their shared bedroom. Chip lay in the dark, his thoughts racing. The conversation with his mom played on repeat in his head. He hadn't meant to hurt his dad. He just wanted to know. Chip went into his parent's bedroom. He approached the bed quietly, not wanting to disturb his dad. Plankton was fast asleep, his snores now rhythmic and steady. His antenna twitched slightly, and Chip wondered if he was having a dream. "Mom, can I sleep by him?" he asked, his voice a whisper. Karen looked at her sleeping husband, her heart swelling with a mixture of love and worry. "I think that's a good idea," she said, her voice low. "Just make sure to keep your distance, okay?" Chip nodded solemnly, his eyes on his dad. He climbed into Plankton's bed, careful not to jostle him. He lay down, his tiny body next to his father's. Plankton's snores filled the room, a comforting lullaby. Chip watched him sleep, his expression a mix of fear and love. He reached out tentatively, his hand just barely touching Plankton's arm. His dad didn't stir, his breathing even. Chip studied him, his thoughts racing. Autism, stims, seizures. It was a lot to take in. He wanted to understand, desperately. But his dad's fear and anger had left a sour taste in his mouth. He felt like he was navigating a minefield of emotions and words he didn't quite grasp. He watched Plankton's chest rise and fall with his breath, his antennas twitching slightly in his sleep. He lay there, his hand still on Plankton's arm, until his own eyelids grew heavy. He didn't know how to fix things, but being close to his dad felt like a start. The next morning Chip woke up first. He heard Plankton stirring beside him. "Hey, Dad," Chip whispered, his voice filled with nerves. Plankton's eye opened, his gaze unfocused for a moment before settling on Chip. He took a deep breath, his antennas waving slightly. "Hi, Chip," he said, his voice hoarse from sleep. "How are you doing?" Chip sat up, his expression tentative. "I'm okay," he said, his voice small. "Are you okay?" Plankton nodded. "I'm fine," he said. He turned to look at Chip, his eye searching for any sign of anger or fear. But all he saw was his son's sincere concern. He took a deep breath. "What you saw yesterday, my stims, my meltdowns, my seizures, they're all part of my autism. It's like my brain has its own special rules, and sometimes it gets overwhelmed." Chip nodded, his hand still on Plankton's arm. "I didn't know," he said, his voice filled with remorse. "I just didn't know what to do." Plankton's expression softened. "But now that you know, we can talk about it." Chip looked at his father, his curiosity outweighing his fear. "What do your seizures feel like?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton paused, his face contorted in a frown as he searched for the right words. "It's like being in a bubble," he finally said. "Everything is muffled and distant. It's like my brain has shut down for a bit. But I can still feel pain." Chip nodded, trying to imagine what that may feel like. "And the tics?" he asked. Plankton took a deep breath. "The tics are like tiny explosions in my brain," he explained, his voice calm. "They're little movements or sounds that I can't always control. It's like my brain's way of letting out some steam." Chip nods. "But why do you get mad when I ask about it?" he questioned, his eyes searching his father's face. Plankton's antennas twitched as he considered his son's question. "I get mad because it's hard," he admitted. "Having autism means sometimes I can't control things, and it's frustrating. Like when I stim, it's usually just some restlessness so I'll move or mumble to myself, for myself only. So unless you offer help when I'm in distress, try not to make much note of them. Same with the tics, which usually happen after a seizure. But if you're concerned, inform your mother; she knows.." Chip felt a weight lift off his chest. "Okay, I understand," he said, his voice earnest. "But what about when you're upset? Like yesterday?" Plankton's expression grew serious. "When I'm upset, it's like my brain's on overload," he said. "I can't always control how I react. And when I'm angry, it feels like my thoughts are racing so fast that I can't keep up. Sometimes, the only way I know how to express it is through sarcasm or yelling. Your mom helps by knowing when to approach me, or when to redirect my energy. But I just am reacting to something and may need space." Chip nodded, his eyes studying his father's face. "But you're not mad at me?" he asked, his voice small. Plankton sighed. "Well last night I was actually upset with you personally because of what you said. But sometimes sensory bombardment can get me frustrated. It all depends." Chip felt a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry," he said again, his voice low. "I just heard kids at school say tha-" But Plankton cut him off. "I know," he said. "And I'm still hurt by it. People have said that to me throughout school, people I didn't even like; it still upsets me, and then you said it.." Chip felt his heart sink. "But I didn't mean it like that," he protested, his voice shaking. "I just didn't know what to call it.." Plankton's expression softens slightly. "I know you didn't, Chip," he said. "And that's why we're talking now. Autism is a neurodisability. You can refer to it as a condition, or just say autistic." Chip nodded, his eyes wide with understanding. "Okay," he said, his voice steady. "But what do you want me to do when you're coming out of a seizure?" Plankton thought for a moment. "Just be there," he said finally. "You can support me at my pace. But let your mom handle me at first. She knows what to do." Chip nodded, his eyes wide with determination. "Okay," he said. "But I want to learn more. Can you tell me more about your autism?"

𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 8 by NeuroFabulous Plankton sighed, his antennas drooping slightly. He knew this conversation was important, but the effort it took to explain something so deeply personal was exhausting. "Some things that don't bother others, like noise or lights, can really make my brain go haywire. And sometimes, like yesterday, I just can't process it all and I have a seizure." Chip nodded, his hand still on his dad's arm. "And the stims?" he prompted. Plankton looked away, his eye darting around the room before focusing back on Chip. "The stims are like...it's like my brain's way of releasing energy," he said, his antennas twitching slightly. "But usually, I don't like to talk about them, because it's personal. It's just how I try dealing with things." Chip nodded, trying to absorb all this new information. "What if I see you having a seizure?" he asked, his voice filled with anxiety. Plankton's antennas twitched as he thought. "If I'm having a seizure, don't touch me," he instructed. "Just keep talking to me. Sometimes I can hear you, even if I can't respond. And make sure to tell your mom since she knows what to do to help me through it." Chip nodded, his thoughts racing. "But what about when you're upset?" he asked. Plankton took a deep breath, his antennas twitching. "When I'm upset, I might need some space," he said. "But you can always ask your mom for help. She's really good at knowing what to do." Chip nodded, his understanding growing. He leaned in closer to his dad. "I want to help," he said firmly. Plankton leaned away. "You can help by not staring at me," Plankton replied, his voice tinged with irritation. "And by not asking me to stop doing things that help me cope." Chip felt a pang of disappointment, but he understood. "Okay," he agreed. "But I want to know when it's okay to talk about it, so I can help," he said, his voice determined. Plankton looked at him, his expression unreadable. "You can talk about it when I bring it up or if I'm in need of concern," he said. "But don't force it. It's a sensitive topic." Chip nodded, his eyes studying his dad's face. "Okay," he said, his voice steady. "But I want you to know, Dad, that I love you no matter what." Plankton's antennas twitched again, and he swallowed hard. He wanted to say it back, but the words just wouldn't come. "I know you do, Chip," he managed. He knew his son was waiting for the return of his love, but Plankton's brain was stuck in a loop, unable to articulate his feelings. Chip looked at him, his eyes searching. He wanted to hear those three words so badly. Plankton felt the pressure building up in his chest. He knew Chip was waiting, expecting, but his brain was in a maelstrom of thoughts and sensations, each one fighting for his attention. "I... I... I," he stuttered, his antennae waving erratically. Chip looked at him, his eyes filled with hope and concern. "Dad?" he asked, as Karen stirs from her sleep. "Good morning," Karen says. Plankton took a deep breath, willing the words to come. "I... I..." Karen had a confused look on her face. "What's going on, Chip? Plankton?" Chip looked down at his hands, which were clutching the blanket. "I just told him I love him," he murmured. "But he's... I don't know.." Karen sat up in bed, seeing the look on her husband's face. "Plankton, sweetie," she said softly. "It's fi—" But Plankton's face contorted with effort. "I-I...I," Plankton managed to get out. Karen's gaze softened as she watched her husband and son. She knew that Plankton felt the love, but his autism made expressing it on demand difficult. "Hey," she said gently, "it's ok."

𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 9 by NeuroFabulous Plankton's eye darted between Chip and Karen, his antennae twitching. He wanted to say it, but the words felt stuck in his throat. "I," he managed, his voice strained. "I-I-I-I…" Karen reached out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Plankton," she said softly. "You don't have to say anyth—" But Plankton's stutters grew more intense. "I...I...I," he repeated, his face twisting. Chip's heart sank. He didn't know what's happening. "Dad, are you okay?" Chip asked, his voice filled with worry. Karen watched him, her heart sinking. This wasn't just a moment of some difficulty speaking; this was a full-blown seizure. "Plankton, breathe," she said, her voice calm and steady. "You don't have to force it." But Plankton's stutter only grew more intense, his body convulsing with the effort. "I...I...I-" Karen sighed. She knew stress can cause mini seizures, like this one. "Chip," she said gently. "It's okay. He's experiencing one of his seizures. Nothing alarming; we just wait it out. But sometimes it can help if you talk." Chip looked up at his mom, his eyes filled with fear and uncertainty. He didn't know what to say or do, but he didn't want to leave his dad alone. "Dad," he whispered, his voice shaking. "You don't have to say it now." Plankton's stuttering continued, his antennae twitching rapidly. "I-I-I-I-I-I-I," his voice grew louder, each syllable a desperate cry for release. Karen's hand tightened on his shoulder. "You're okay," she said soothingly. "Just br-" But Plankton's stuttering grew louder, his body tensing. "I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I," he repeated. Chip watched in horror as his dad's seizure grew worse. His mind raced, trying to remember what his mom said to do. He took a deep breath, his hands shaking. "Dad," he called out, his voice small and scared. "I'm here. You don't have to say it. I know you love me." The stuttering grew more intense, Plankton's eye closed tightly as he tried to fight through the seizure. "I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I," his voice echoed through the room. Karen's voice remained calm, her hand firmly on Plankton's shoulder. "Just breathe, honey," she coaxed. "Breathe and let it pass." But the words didn't seem to reach him, lost in his own loop of panic. "I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I," his voice grew more desperate, each syllable a battle. Karen's eyes filled with tears as she watched both husband and son. She knew Plankton was trying to express his love, but his brain was trapped in a cycle it couldn't break. "It's okay," she whispered. "Just breathe." Chip's voice grew desperate. "Dad, please," he begged, his eyes brimming with tears. Plankton's body shuddered, the stutters growing more intense. "I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I," his voice a tortured plea. Karen's heart broke seeing her husband in such distress. "Plankton, sweetie, just breathe," she said, her voice soothing. "We're here. We love you." Chip watched, his own throat tight with unshed tears. "Dad," he said, his voice shaking. "You don't have to say i---" But Plankton's stuttering interrupted him, growing more intense with each syllable. "I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I," his voice was a crescendo of pain and frustration. Karen's eyes never left his, her voice a gentle reminder. "Just breathe, Plankton," she cooed. "Let it pass." But Plankton was in his own world, his thoughts racing faster than he could speak. His body jerked with each failed attempt. "I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I," his voice was strained, desperate. Karen's eyes searched for any sign that he was hearing them, that he knew they were there. But his gaze remained fixed on nothingness. Chip watched his dad, his small hand hovering over Plankton's arm, unsure if his touch would help or make things worse. "It's okay," he said, his voice trembling. "I know you love me." Plankton's stuttering finally stopped, his body going slack. Karen's hand remained on his shoulder, her eyes never leaving his. "It's okay," she said again, her voice calm and reassuring. Chip looked up at her, his eyes wide with fear. "Is he okay?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen nodded, her expression filled with relief. "Yes, he's okay," she said, her hand still on Plankton's shoulder. "The worst has passed." Chip let out a shaky breath, his hand finally touching his dad's arm. "Dad?" he asked, his voice quiet. Plankton's eye fluttered open, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. His antennas had stopped twitching, and he looked drained. "Dad?" Chip asked again, his voice trembling. Plankton turned his gaze to his son. His expression was weary, but his eye was filled with love. He reached out a hand, gently brushing against Chip's arm. It was a way of saying 'thank you' without the words. Chip looked at him, his eyes filled with relief and love. He understood that his dad had just gone through something painful and scary, and his heart went out to his father. "It's okay," he whispered, taking his father's hand. "You're okay now." Plankton squeezed his hand weakly, his breathing still erratic. Karen reached over, her hand covering both of theirs. "It's okay," she said, her voice steady. "We're all right here."