As a neurodivergent person I find emojicombos.com a favourite site. I also write here to make others happy and to make stories inspired by events similar to my experiences, so I can come back to them on any device to. Also, I hope any person reading has a great day! -NeuroFabulous (my search NeuroFabulous)

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY i (By NeuroFabulous) Chip and his friend Alex go to the Chum Bucket, where Chip lives with his parents Karen and Plankton. Chip had been looking forward to this moment all week. His friend Alex, the new kid in school, was finally coming over to his place. Chip's thought about the endless possibilities of what they could do together. Would they play video games? Maybe build a fort? Or, if they were lucky, his mom Karen might let them have ice cream before dinner.. The door swung open. "Welcome to the Chum Bucket," Chip said with a proud smile, leading Alex inside. Karen looked up from her book. "Hi," Alex said nervously. Karen's eyes widened. "Oh, hello!" She hadn't been expecting company. But she put down her book. "You must be Alex!" Alex nodded. "Hi, Chip's mom," they mumbled. "Just call me Karen, sweetie," she replied, her voice as warm as a freshly baked pie. "You two have fun!" She turned back to her book, her screen dancing with curiosity as they climbed the stairs. Chip's room was at the end of the hall, but they weren't going there yet. "C'mon," he whispered to Alex, his screen sparkling with excitement. "I want to show you my Dad!" He led him to the bed room door. They tiptoed closer. Plankton's on the bed. Alex peered around the doorframe, their curiosity piqued. "Surprise!" Chip shouted, jumping forward. Plankton's antennas shot straight up, a mix of shock and annoyance. But Plankton didn't move. He remained frozen in place, his eye vacant and unblinking. Alex took a step back, concerned. Chip's excitement faded into puzzlement. "Dad?" he called out, nudging Plankton's arm. No response, not even a twitch. They both stared at him, the room silent except for the faint buzz of a neon sign outside. Plankton's body was rigid. Chip felt a twinge of fear. This wasn't like his dad, who was always bursting with ideas and energy. Alex's grip on the doorknob tightened. They approached the bed slowly. Plankton remained unblinking. "Dad, are you ok?" Chip asked, his voice cracking. He reached out to shake him gently. Plankton's arm was cold and stiff, like a mannequin. Chip's heart raced. He'd never seen his dad like this before. Alex's eyes widened in alarm, their grip on the doorknob turning white. They stepped back, exchanging glances. "Chip, what's going on?" Alex whispered, fear seeping into their voice. Chip's eyes searched the room, his heart racing. "I don't know," he replied, "but we have to do something!" He rushed to the bedside, his hands trembling as he touched his dad's face. "Dad! Dad!" Alex hovered near the door, unsure of what to do. "Should we get your mom?" Chip nodded, his voice shaking. "Yeah, we need to tell." They both bolted out of the room and sprinted down the stairs. "Mom!" Chip yelled, "Something's wrong with Dad!" Karen looked up from her book, her face puzzled. "What do you mean, Chip?" But when she saw the look on his face, she set the book aside and followed them upstairs. In Plankton's room, she paused. The silence was heavy, and the tension was almost palpable. She could see the fear in Chip's eyes, mirrored in Alex's wide gaze. They pointed to the bed, where Plankton still sat, unmoving. Karen took a deep breath. She had known about Plankton's secret for years—his autism. But moments like these were always difficult to navigate. "It's okay," she assured them, her tone calm and steady. "Sometimes Daddy has these moments where he goes into his own world. It's part of who he is." She approached the bed slowly, her movements deliberate and gentle. Plankton's chest rose and fell with his breath, but he didn't acknowledge their presence. Karen placed a hand on his shoulder, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and understanding. "Plankton?" she called softly, her voice barely a whisper in the quiet room. No response. Her heart ached for her husband, trapped in his own thoughts. She had learned over the years to recognize the signs of his episodes, but seeing him like this never got easier. Carefully, Karen sat down beside him, her hands resting on his shoulders. "It's okay, sweetie," she murmured, her voice soothing. "You're safe." Slowly, she began to rub his back in small, comforting circles. Chip and Alex watched, silent and worried, from the doorway. Minutes ticked by like hours. Karen's gentle persistence never wavered. Then, almost imperceptibly, Plankton's shoulders relaxed, his eye blinking back into focus. He looked around the room, bewildered. "Karen?" he croaked, his voice hoarse from disuse. Chip and Alex breathed out in relief. Karen smiled warmly, her eyes never leaving Plankton's. "It's okay, honey," she said, her voice a lullaby. "You're back with us." Plankton's gaze found hers, his mind slowly returning from its solitary adventure. He looked from her to the two in the doorway, confusion etched on his face. Alex took a tentative step forward, their heart still racing. "Are you okay?" Plankton blinked. "What happened?" Plankton managed to ask, his voice scratchy from his silent reverie. Karen stood, placing a comforting hand on his knee. "You had one of your episodes, sweetheart," she explained gently. "But it's okay. You're back now." Chip stepped into the room, his eyes brimming with relief. "What's an episode?" Alex asked softly, their curiosity overcoming their fear. Karen turned to them, her expression gentle. "It's like his brain goes on a little trip," she said, trying to simplify it. "It's part of him. Sometimes he needs time to come back." Alex nodded, their eyes still glued to Plankton. "Does he know he does it?" they asked, their curiosity genuine. Karen squeezed Plankton's hand. "He knows, honey," she explained. "But sometimes it's like he can't stop it." Chip felt a pang of sadness, his earlier excitement now replaced with a deep concern for his father. He knew that his dad was different from other parents, but he had never seen him like this. It was as if Plankton had been taken from them for a brief moment, leaving a shell in his place.

TIPS For CHECKs Feel the instruments and get comfortable with them. Ex: at the dentist, you’re weary of the suction straw. If no plastic cups for rinsing, ask them for some or, have them turn the suction on a low setting and feel it with your finger before they use it in your mouth. Perhaps they can put something on if you don’t like the sucking noise. See how you feel with the specific doctor. Ex: Dr. A seems hurried and strict, but Dr. B seems more empathetic. Or perhaps ask if a nurse can be in the room with you to. Try having the doctor teach you how much you can do. Ex: for a strep throat test, ask if you can swab your own throat, even have them hold your hand whilst you do it in a mirror. Or tell them the way your throat’s structure may find it easier to tilt, etc. (my search NeuroFabulous)

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Anonymous asked: Undiagnosed autism culture is your family can't comprehend that you are also autistic because you have a family member that was diagnosed as a child and has different support needs than you.

Anonymous asked: autism culture is trying to isolate yourself because you're getting overstimulated but people keep coming in to talk to you and then get mad when you lash out. like omg im TRYING to "calm down" just give me a minute

Anonymous asked: autism culture is feeling like a nuisance when you’re overstimulated because you don’t want to be mean to anyone or have a meltdown but you can’t keep masking and everything is too much

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY v (By NeuroFabulous) Karen held Plankton tightly, his sobs shaking both of them. "It's okay," she murmured, stroking his back. "You're still my husband. You're still Chip's dad." Her voice was a salve to his soul, but the wound was deep. In Chip's room, the silence was deafening. He sat on his bed, staring at the wall, his thoughts racing. He had never meant to hurt Plankton like that. He had just wanted his dad to be like everyone else's. He didn't understand why it had to be so hard. Outside, the sound of Karen trying to comfort Plankton's sobs drifted under the door, each one a knife in Chip's heart. He had never heard his dad cry before, and it made him feel like the biggest jerk in the sea. What had he done? He didn't want Plankton to go anywhere. He just wanted all to be okay. He sat on his bed, his eyes blurring with tears as he tried to piece together what had just happened. His mind raced with thoughts of his dad, his hero, his rock, now a crumbling mess in his mother's arms. He couldn't bear to think of the pain he had caused. He stood up, his legs shaking slightly as he approached the door. Karen looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed and tired, but filled with a fierce love that never wavered. Plankton was still sobbing into her shoulder, his body trembling with the force of his pain. Chip felt like he couldn't breathe, his chest tight with regret. "I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice small and shaky. "I didn't mean it. I just..." But the words trailed off, his throat thick with unshed tears. Karen looked up at him, her eyes brimming with a mix of love and disappointment. "Chip," she said, her voice firm but gentle, "you need to understand. Your dad can't just turn his autism off." She took a deep breath, her gaze never leaving Chip's. "And we love him just the way he is." Plankton's body convulsed with each sob, his fear palpable in the tiny room. He had always known his condition set him apart, but to hear his son say such things... It was more than he could bear. Karen looked at Chip, her expression a mix of anger and sadness. "Chip, what you said was hurtful," she began, her voice shaking with emotion. "But you need to know that your dad's autism is just part of who he is." Plankton's sobs grew quieter, his body slowly calming down as he heard Karen's words. He knew she was right, but the fear remained, a cold knot in his stomach. Fear of rejection, fear of being seen as a burden, fear of losing the ones he loved most. Chip's eyes were glued to the floor, the weight of his words pressing down on him like a heavy stone. He felt like a monster, a creature that had lashed out without thought for the consequences. He took a tentative step forward. "Dad," he whispered, his voice choking with tears. "I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it." Plankton's convulsions slowly subsided, his body still tense against Karen's embrace. His eye was closed tightly, as if trying to block out the painful reality. Plankton's convulsions grew less intense, his body slowly relaxing into Karen's embrace. His breathing was ragged, his antennas quivering slightly with each exhale. The look in his eye spoke volumes, a swirl of emotions that seemed to mirror the turmoil in Chip's own heart. The room was a stark contrast to the chaotic underwater world outside, the silence interrupted only by the occasional sniffle from Plankton. Karen's gaze never left Chip's face, her expression a mix of love and disappointment. "Your father's autism is a part of him, Chip," she continued, her voice measured. "It's like his brain has its own language, and sometimes it's hard for him to translate it to ours. But that doesn't make him any less of a person, or any less of a dad." Chip felt a knot in his stomach, his regret growing with every word Karen said. He had never thought about it like that before—his dad wasn't broken or weird, just different. And he had hurt him so badly. "But I just want him to be normal," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Why ca--" "Normal?" Plankton's voice was harsher than Chip had ever heard it. He pulled away from Karen, his eye blazing with a fierce intensity. "Chip, maybe you're the one who needs to leave.." "Plankton," Karen said, her voice a plea. "This isn't helping." But Plankton's face was a mask of pain and anger. Chip's heart raced, his dad's words cutting deeper than any insult he had ever heard. "Dad," he said, his voice trembling. "I didn't mean it." But Plankton was beyond reason, his emotions a swirling maelstrom of anger and hurt. "Get out," he said, his voice cold and final. Karen's eyes widened with shock, but she knew better than to argue with him when he was like this. She stood, carefully setting Plankton aside. He didn't move, just sat there, his body rigid with pain. "Come on, Chip," she said gently, her hand on his shoulder. "Let's give your dad some space." Chip's eyes were filled with tears, his heart breaking at the sight of his father's pain. He didn't know what to do, his mind racing with fear and regret. He allowed Karen to lead him out of the room, the door clicking shut behind them, leaving Plankton alone with his thoughts.

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY x (By NeuroFabulous) They stepped out of the car, the sand crunching beneath their feet. Chip looked over at Plankton, his heart racing with hope. "Ready?" he asked, his voice tentative. Plankton nodded, his antennas lifting slightly. "Let's go," he said, his voice still tight. But there was a hint of excitement in his eye, and Chip felt a glimmer of hope. The beach was relatively empty, the waves rolling gently onto the shore. Karen gave them a beach ball and sat down, watching her family with a mix of hope and trepidation. Chip tossed the ball to Plankton, his eyes searching his dad's antennas for any signs of discomfort. They were slightly elevated, but not as tight as they had been earlier. Plankton caught the ball with unexpected grace, his antennas twitching with concentration. He threw it back with a soft chuckle, his arm moving in a fluid arc. The ball sailed through the air, catching the sun's glint before landing in Chip's outstretched hands. Karen watched from their picnic blanket, her heart swelling with pride. It was a simple game, but it was a bridge between them, a way to connect without words. She saw the tension in Plankton's shoulders ease slightly with every catch and throw, his antennas swaying gently with the rhythm of their play. Chip's laughter was like music, his movements uncoordinated but earnest as he tried to keep the ball in the air. Plankton's eye followed the ball, his antennas twitching in time with the breeze. The beach ball arced through the sky, a bright spot of color against the azure backdrop of the ocean. Plankton's gaze never left it, his focus unwavering. When it reached its peak, he lunged, his arm snapping up to meet it. The crack of the ball against his hand echoed in the salty air as it soared back towards Chip. Sand flew up around his feet as he took a step back, bracing for the impact. The ball hit his hands with surprising force, but he managed to keep it in play. Plankton's antennas waved slightly as he watched, his eye flicking from the ball to Chip and back again. His movements were precise, almost robotic, but there was something undeniably graceful about the way he played. It was as if the beach, the waves, and the wind were all part of a grand symphony, and he was the maestro conducting it with the flicker of a smile. Chip, on the other hand, was a flurry of awkward limbs and enthusiasm. He stumbled and tripped, but never lost his determination. With each catch, his smile grew wider, and his laughter grew louder. He was discovering a new side to his father, one that didn't need words to express joy. Their volleys grew longer, their movements more in sync. Plankton's antennas swayed with the rhythm of their game, a silent testament to his enjoyment. Karen watched from the picnic blanket, her heart full. For the first time in a long while, she saw a genuine smile on Plankton's face, one that wasn't forced or fleeting. But then, Chip's laughter grew too loud, too abrupt, and Plankton's antennas snapped back, his body tensing. Karen's smile faltered, knowing what was coming. "Oh wow!" Chip exclaimed as he made an impressive catch, his voice booming across the beach. Plankton's body jerked at the sudden noise, his eye widening in surprise. For a moment, Chip didn't notice, his excitement clouding his judgment. But then he saw Plankton's antennas flatten against his head, a clear sign of distress. His heart sank as he realized his mistake. "Sorry, Dad," he said quickly, his voice softer. "I didn't mean to..." Plankton's eye blinked rapidly, his antennas quivering as he tried to regain his composure. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice strained. "Just... just don't do that again." Chip nodded, his own smile fading as he saw his dad's distress. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the excitement bubbling inside. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice softer. "I didn't mean to..." But Plankton had already turned away, his antennas drooping as he stared out at the sea. Karen's eyes met Chip's over his shoulder, a silent message of understanding and reassurance. She knew her son had meant well, but the sudden loudness had triggered discomfort, risking sensory overload. Chip felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He knew he had to be more careful, more mindful of his father's needs. He took a deep breath, trying to push down the urge to apologize again. Instead, he opted for a gentler approach, his voice low. "Dad, I'm sorry," he said, stepping closer. "Let's sit for a bit?" Plankton's antennas twitched, his body still tense from the sudden sound. He nodded, his eye not leaving the hypnotic dance of the waves. Chip followed his dad's gaze, the apology still lingering on his tongue. He swallowed it down, knowing it wouldn't help now. Instead, he sat down next to him, leaving a respectful distance between them. He watched as Plankton's antennas slowly began to rise, his breathing evening out. The waves continued their rhythmic dance on the shore, and Chip focused on their soothing sound, hoping it would calm his father as well. He knew Plankton was sensitive to noise, and he had forgotten in his excitement. He vowed to do better next time, to remember his dad's boundaries.

“Neurodivergent Umbrella”* Beneath the umbrella, it lists: ADHD DID & OSDD ASPD BPD NPD Dyslexia CPTSD Dyspraxia Sensory Processing Dyscalculia PTSD Dysgraphia Bipolar Autism Epilepsy OCD ABI Tic Disorders Schizophrenia Misophonia HPD Down Syndrome Synesthesia * non-exhaustive list

"𝖮𝗁 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗍.." 𝖣𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗍? 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖨 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝖺𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 '𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅' 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗂𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗍. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗑𝖾𝖽. ( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY ii (By NeuroFabulous) "Let's go downstairs," Karen suggested, her voice still calm but with an underlying urgency. They followed her, leaving Plankton to gather his thoughts. Once they were in the living room, Karen turned to face them. "I know this might be scary, but you guys need to remember that Dad is okay," she began, her eyes full of reassurance. "It's just his way of processing things." Chip nodded, trying to understand. Alex leaned against the wall, their mind racing with questions. "It's like when you get lost in a good book," Karen continued, looking at Alex, "you're not really gone, you're just somewhere else for a little bit." Alex nodded, their eyes reflecting their attempt to grasp the concept. "But why does he do that?" Chip asked, his voice filled with a childlike innocence that masked his worry. Karen sighed, looking from Chip to Alex. She knew it was important for Chip to understand, but she wasn't sure how much Alex needed to know. "It's complicated, Chip. But what's important is that we're here for him." Alex nodded, still not fully comprehending but willing to accept the explanation for now. They could see the love and concern in Karen's eyes and knew it was something serious. "Okay," they said quietly. But before they could leave, Karen spoke again. "Alex, can I have a word?" Alex turned, their eyes meeting Karen's steady gaze. Chip hovered in the background, sensing the gravity of the moment. "Of course," Alex replied, their voice cautious. Karen's expression grew serious, her eyes locking onto Alex's. "You know, what happens here, stays here," she said firmly. "Your friendship with Chip is important to him. And his dad's condition...it's something Chip doesn't even know about yet I will tell him, but it's a bit personal. You did nothing wrong." Alex nodded, understanding the weight of what she was asking. "I won't tell anyone," they promised, their eyes sincere. Karen took a deep breath, appreciating Alex's maturity. "Thank you," she said, giving their hand a squeeze. "But for now, I think it's best if you head on home." Alex looked at Chip, who was still trying to process everything. "But... what about our plans?" Chip's voice was small, his excitement of earlier replaced by confusion and worry. "We'll have to save them for another day, buddy," Karen said, her voice soft. "But I promise, we'll make it up to you." She gave Alex a gentle smile. "Thank you for understanding." Alex nodded solemnly, their eyes darting from Karen to Chip and back. They knew they had stumbled into a situation that was bigger than themself, and they didn't want to cause any more stress. "Okay," they murmured, "I'll go." Chip looked up at Alex, his eyes filling with unshed tears. "Do you have to?" he asked, his voice trembling. Alex forced a smile. "Yeah, I should get going. But I'll see you." They gave Chip's shoulder a comforting squeeze before turning to leave. Karen walked Alex to the door, her mind racing with thoughts of how to explain this to Chip. She knew he wasn't ready to understand Plankton's condition fully, but she also knew that keeping it a secret wasn't fair to him. As they reached the front door, Alex paused. "Is your dad going to be okay?" They asked, their voice filled with genuine concern. Chip hovered behind them, listening intently. Karen nodded, her hand on the doorknob. "Yes, he'll be fine," she assured them. "This happens from time to time. It's just part of him." Alex nodded again, their gaze lingering on Chip. "Okay," they said, trying to sound braver than they felt. "See ya, Chip." Chip managed a weak smile, his eyes still glossy. "See ya," he echoed. The door closed gently, and the house was once again filled with a tense silence.

DOCTORs APPOINTMENTs Before a procedure, get to meet the physician and acknowledge their authority before you mention your sensitivities. Find a way to make a compromise. Even request more time for an appointment if you want to have topical numbing agents wait to work, to discuss alternatives, etc. Before a procedure, look up the physician and/or the clinic website. Find pictures of the inner building and search for FAQ, policies, procedures, reviews, etc. Before a procedure, bring a fully charged phone and any sensory necessities such as plastic cups for water, ice pack, self testing kits, written notes and copies, etc. TIPS For CHECKs Feel the instruments and get comfortable with them. Ex: at the dentist, you’re weary of the suction straw. If no plastic cups for rinsing, ask them for some or, have them turn the suction on a low setting and feel it with your finger before they use it in your mouth. Perhaps they can put something on if you don’t like the sucking noise. See how you feel with the specific doctor. Ex: Dr. A seems hurried and strict, but Dr. B seems more empathetic. Or perhaps ask if a nurse can be in the room with you to. Try having the doctor teach you how much you can do. Ex: for a strep throat test, ask if you can swab your own throat, even have them hold your hand whilst you do it in a mirror. Or tell them the way your throat’s structure may find it easier to tilt, etc. (my search NeuroFabulous)

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Sometimes, stomach acid goes up into your esophagus, the tube that connects your mouth and stomach. That’s called heartburn. If it’s also an issue, sleep with your head slightly raised. It may also help to avoid or limit: Peppermint, chocolate, garlic, and tomatoes Tight clothes Meals within 2 or 3 hours of bedtime Lying down right after a meal Instead: Sleep on your left side. This position seems to help reduce nighttime heartburn symptoms Wear loose-fitting clothes. Tight clothes, especially near your waist, can put pressure on your stomach, leading to heartburn symptoms. Chew gum. Chewing gum encourages the production of saliva, which can soothe your esophagus and wash acid down into your stomach. Choose a flavor other than peppermint, which may worsen heartburn in some people. While the main symptom of GERD is reflux, a number of symptoms may accompany this condition. Heartburn: A painful burning sensation in the chest is the most common symptom Trusted Source Merck Manual First published in 1899 as a small reference book for physicians and pharmacists, the Manual grew in size and scope to become one of the most widely used comprehensive medical resources for professionals and consumers. View Source of GERD, but not all cases of GERD involve heartburn. Regurgitation: Another common symptom of GERD is regurgitation, which means a small amount of stomach acid and sometimes bits of food come up into the mouth or back of the throat. Sore throat: When stomach acid rises to the mouth and throat, it can cause coughing and a feeling of choking. This often leads to a sore throat and, for some people, difficulty swallowing, known as dysphagia. Chest pain: On top of the discomfort from heartburn, GERD can cause radiating chest pain

lidocaine ointment that can apply beforehand?

SPONGEBOB OVERLOAD 2/2 (By NEUROFABULOUS) Plankton's memory was a jumble of images and sounds, but he recaled the confrontation with Mr. Krabs, the spatula, and the pain. He sat up slowly, his head spinning. The pain was intense, but his mind was racing even faster. Plankton looked around the room, his eye trying to make sense of the scene. The Chum Bucket was a mess, his usual order thrown into chaos. Karen's face was a blur of concern, and Sponge Bob hovered close by, his expression filled with a mix of fear and pity. Plankton's mind raced, his thoughts scattered like sand in a storm. He felt a deep disconnect from the world around him, as if he was watching a play in which he was a reluctant participant. His head throbbed, but not just from the blow. It was the pressure of his own thoughts, his brain working overtime to process what had just occurred. Karen noticed the confusion in his expression and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "You had an accident, sweetie," she said softly. "It's okay. You're home now." Plankton's eye darted around the room, his mind struggling to understand the sudden shift in his reality. The noise was overwhelming, each sound a needle pricking his sensitive nerves. "Karen," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "What's happening?" Her gaze softened. "You got hurt, Plankton," she explained gently. "But the science fair," he mumbled, his thoughts jumbled. Karen's expression grew even more concerned. "The science fair can wait, Plankton," she soothed. But Plankton's mind was stuck in a loop, repeating her words. "The science fair can wait Plankton," he echoed, his voice frail and distant. Karen's eyes grew wet with worry. "Yes, dear," she said, stroking his arm. "Your wellbeing is more important." Plankton's eye narrowed as he repeated her words, his voice a mix of stubbornness and determination. "Wellbeing is important," he murmured, his thoughts racing. The words echoed in his head, a maddening loop. "The science fair can wait, Plankton," he whispered to himself, his voice taking on a rhythmic pattern. "Can wait, can wait..." Sponge Bob watched, his heart heavy with concern. He had never seen his friend like this, his usual confidence and scheming reduced to repetitive mumbles. "Plankton," he ventured cautiously, placing a spongy hand on his shoulder. Plankton's eye snapped to his, the loop breaking for a brief moment. "Sponge Bob," he murmured, his voice still weak. Sponge Bob's heart leaped with hope. "Yes, Plankton, I'm here," he said gently. But Plankton's gaze was distant, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. "Wellbeing is important," he murmured again, the words coming out in a staccato rhythm, his mind locked in the grip of echolalia. Karen's heart clenched with fear. This wasn't just disorientation from his injury. This was something more. "Sponge Bob," she whispered urgently. "I think he's in shock." Sponge Bob nodded, his face a mask of concern. "I'll get some water," he said, rushing to the sink. He filled a glass and hurried back, careful not to spill a drop. Plankton's eye followed the glass, his gaze unfocused. He began to rock back and forth slightly. Karen noticed the change in his behavior, her concern deepening. "Here, drink some water," she urged, offering the glass to his shaking hand. Plankton took it without a word, his motions mechanical. He brought the glass to his lips, but his hand trembled so badly that water sloshed out, spilling down. The moment the cool liquid hit the floor, a strange look passed over his face. It was as if he had seen a ghost, his single eye going wide with alarm. "The water," he stammered, his voice shaking. Karen's heart sank as she watched her husband's distress. "It's okay, Plankton," she soothed. "It's just water..." But Plankton's eye were glued to the spilled water, his entire body trembling. "It's... it's not right," he muttered, his voice filled with a childlike fear. Karen looked confused, the spilled water seemingly a minor issue. “Plank…” “It’s not right!” Plankton’s voice was urgent now, his trembling hand gesturing at the spill. His mind was a whirlwind of disturbing thoughts, each more distressing than the last. Sponge Bob and Karen exchanged worried glances. “What do you mean, Plankton?” Sponge Bob asked, kneeling beside the couch, his eyes full of concern. Plankton's breathing grew rapid, his chest heaving. "The... the... water," he stuttered, pointing at the puddle. "It's too... too... much!" Karen's gaze flitted to the floor, then back to her husband. "It's okay," she soothed, her voice quaking with fear. "It's just a little spill." But Plankton's agitation only grew. He flung the glass aside, the remaining water splattering against the wall. "No!" he shouted, his voice high and desperate. "Too much!" Karen and Sponge Bob watched in horror as Plankton collapsed into a sobbing mess, his tiny body wracked with tremors. His hands fluttered in his face, his breath coming in quick, sharp gasps. The room grew claustrophobic, the air thick with his panic. "It's okay," Karen whispered, her voice shaking. "It's just water, Plankton." But his anguished cries only grew louder. Sponge Bob's heart ached as he watched his friend fall apart before his eyes. Plankton's behavior was unlike anything he had ever seen, his usual cunning replaced with a raw, overwhelming fear. The room grew smaller as Plankton's sobs filled the space, his body convulsing with the intensity of his breakdown. Karen looked at Sponge Bob, her expression a mix of despair and determination. They both knew they had to calm him down, but how? Sponge Bob took a deep breath, trying to think. "Plankton," he said softly, his voice a gentle coax. "Look at me, buddy. It's just a spill. It's okay." Plankton's cries grew louder, his body shaking uncontrollably. Karen wrapped her arms around him, trying to soothe the storm raging inside his mind. "Shh, it's okay," she murmured, her voice barely audible over his cries. Sponge Bob's heart was in his throat as he watched his friend's breakdown. Plankton was not his usual self. The usually scheming, sneaky scientist was reduced to a quivering mess, his sobs echoing off the walls of the tiny Chum Bucket. His face was a mask of fear and confusion, his single eye wide with panic. "Plankton, please," Karen begged, her voice trembling. "You're scaring me." She scans his brain. The results were not what she expected. The blow from Mr. Krabs had caused more damage than she could have imagined. The injury had altered his brain chemistry in a way that was both profound and irreversible. Plankton had developed a rare condition called acquired autism, a disorder that could occur after a severe head trauma. It was a cruel twist of fate for a man whose life had been consumed by the desire for the Krabby Patty formula. The realization hit Karen like a tidal wave, knocking the wind out of her. Her eyes filled with tears as she whispered the diagnosis to Sponge Bob and Plankton. His expression mirrored her shock and sadness. Sponge Bob sat silent for a moment, his usually cheerful face contorted with sympathy and concern. "What do we do?" he asked finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can you clean the mess?” Karen asks him. He nodded solemnly, his movements slow and deliberate as he stood up to mop the spilled water. As he worked, he couldn't help but feel a deep sorrow for his friend. Plankton had always been the troublemaker, the one who pushed boundaries. But now, his world was shattered. The silence in the room was only broken by Plankton's sobs and the swish of the mop. Sponge Bob's heart felt heavy as he cleaned up the water, his thoughts racing. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. His best friend, his rival, his... his family. Plankton had always been there, through thick and thin, and now he was... different. And yet, that’s ok.

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY vii (By NeuroFabulous) Chip listened intently, his heart heavy with the realization that his father's world was so much more complex than he had ever imagined. "What do I do..." "When you see those signs," Karen said, her voice filled with patience and love, "you need to give him space. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is just be there for him, without expecting anything in return." Chip nodded, his eyes still swollen with tears. "But what if he needs help?" he asked, his voice small. Karen's expression was a mix of love and concern. "If he's having a seizure, it's important to keep him safe," she said, her tone serious. "Make sure there's nothing around that he could hurt himself on, and don't try to move him unless he's in danger." She paused, taking a deep breath. "And never put anything in his mouth. It can be really scary to watch, but he'll come out of it, I promise." "How will I know if it's a seizure?" Chip's voice was shaky, fear gripping him. Karen took a deep breath, her expression turning serious. "If he just stops talking or moving suddenly, and his eye glazes over, it's probably a seizure," she said, her voice calm and measured. "Sometimes he'll stare off into space, or his body might get really stiff for a moment." She paused, squeezing his hand. "But remember, his brain is just taking a little vacation, okay? And if he convulses or starts to fall, you have to catch him and guide him to the floor safely. It's really important that he doesn't get hurt." Chip's eyes were wide with fear, but he nodded, determined to be there for his dad. "What if..." "If it's a bigger seizure," Karen said, her tone gentle but firm, "you'll know. His whole body might shake, and he could fall to the floor." Her grip on his hand tightened. "If that happens, you need to stay calm. Alert me, and make sure he's in a safe place where he won't hurt himself." With a nod, Chip tried to absorb the information, his stomach churning with a mix of fear and determination. He didn't want his dad to go through that alone. "Okay," he murmured. Karen gave his hand a final squeeze before releasing it. "Why don't we check on him?" she suggested, her voice tentative. "Let's see if he's ready to talk." They approached the bedroom. "Remember, sweetie," she whispered. "Let him set the pace." The door was ajar, letting a sliver of light spill into the hallway. Through it, Chip could see his father, still sitting on the edge of the bed, his antennas slumped in defeat. The room was quiet, save for the faint sound of his father's shallow breaths. Karen knocked gently, her voice soft. "Plankton?" There was a moment of silence before they heard a sniffle. "Come in," Plankton's voice was barely audible. Karen pushed the door open, letting Chip step in first. Plankton's single eye was red and swollen from crying, and he was clutching a worn pillow to his chest while rocking in place. Karen's heart ached at the sight of her husband's distress, but she knew better than to rush in. Instead, she gave Chip a gentle nod, encouraging him to go first. Chip took a tentative step forward, his eyes on Plankton's small frame. He had never seen his dad so vulnerable before, his usual bravado and strength nowhere to be found. Plankton looked up at him, his eye searching, his antennas drooping. For a moment, the room was so quiet that Chip could hear his own heart pounding in his chest. With a deep breath, he moved closer, his heart racing. He knew he had to fix this, to somehow make it right. "Dad," he began, his voice shaking. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of it." Plankton's gaze was unreadable, his antennas lying flat against his head. "You don't get it," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You'll never get it." The words stung Chip, but he knew his dad wasn't mad at him. It was frustration, a feeling Plankton struggled to express without it coming out as anger. He took another step closer, his eyes locking with Plankton's. "I want to," he said, his voice earnest. "I want to understand you, Dad." Plankton's antennas twitched, a small sign that he had heard, that he was processing the words.

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY viii (By NeuroFabulous) Chip's heart ached, his guilt a physical presence in his chest. He knew he had hurt his father, and he desperately wanted to take it back. "I know I don't understand, Dad," he said, his voice quivering. "But I want to learn. I want to be there for you. You're special..." Plankton's antennas perked up slightly at the word 'special'. It was a term he had heard before, but it didn't always come with the warmth and sincerity that filled Chip's voice. "You don't know what that means," he said, his voice low and defensive. Chip felt his heart sink even further, his stomach twisting into knots. "Huh?" Plankton's voice grew louder, his antennas shooting up. "You think because I'm 'special', you can just treat me like a toddler?" He threw the pillow across the room, his anger palpable. "I'm not some kind of science project, Chip!" The room grew tense as Chip swallowed his words, his eyes wide. He had never seen his dad so upset. "Dad," he began, his voice trembling. "I didn't mean it like that. I just want to—" "Don't," Plankton snapped, his antennas pointing sharply at the ceiling. "You think you can fix me with your little experiments?" His words were like a slap in the face, but Chip knew better than to let his own anger flare up. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside him. "I just want to help," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want to be ther-" "I don't need your help!" Plankton's outburst echoed through the room, his antennas quivering with emotion. "I don't need anyone to 'fix' me, especially not you!" His voice was raw, each word a dagger to Chip's soul. Chip took a step back, his eyes wide with hurt and confusion. "But Dad, I just wa-" "Don't," Plankton said, his voice sharp and final. "Just don't." Chip felt his throat tighten, his words stuck in his mouth. He had never seen his father like this, so raw and exposed. The silence was suffocating, each second that passed feeling like an eternity. Plankton's chest heaved with the effort of containing his emotions. His antennas were a blur of movement, indicating his internal turmoil. Karen watched from the doorway, her heart breaking for both her husband and her son, feeling torn between comforting them and giving them space. "I know," Chip said, his voice small. "But I'm tr-" Plankton's antennas shot up, cutting him off. "You think you know?" His voice was laced with bitterness. "You have no idea what it's like to be me.." Chip felt his heart sink further, his mind racing. "I'm sorry," he offered, his voice small. "But I do know that you're more than just your autism. You're my dad, and I love you." Plankton's antennas remained stiff, his eye unblinking. "Love," he spat out the word like it was a foreign object. "You don't know what that word means either, do you?" Karen stepped forward, her voice a soothing balm. "Plankton, sweetheart, let's not do this," she pleaded. "Chip's just trying to—" "I know what he's trying to do!" Plankton shouted, his antennas jerking erratically. "He's trying to make me feel less than, like I'm so—" "Dad, no," Chip said, his voice shaking. "That's not what I'm doing. I just want us to be closer, like you and Mom.." Plankton's antennas quivered, his body tensing. "Don't bring her into this," he warned. "You don't understand her either." His words were like a slap, but Chip knew his father wasn't in control of his emotions. "I do, Dad," Chip managed to say, his voice filled with determination. "I see how much you both love each other, and I just want to be a part of th-" "Don't you dare!" Plankton's voice was a roar, his antennas thrashing in agitation. "You don't get to use your mother as an excuse for your ignorance!" The room vibrated with tension, each word a blow to Chip's heart. He felt tears prickling his eyes but blinked them back, trying to maintain some semblance of calm. "I'm not using her, Dad," he said, his voice shaking. "I just want to know how to be close to you the way Mom..." Plankton's antennas shot up in a gesture of disbelief. "The way your mother is with me?" his voice was thick with anger. "You think you can just mimic that?" He stood up, his whole body shaking with emotion. Chip felt his heart drop, his words coming out in a rush. "No, Dad," he said, his voice trembling. "I just want to connect with you." He took a step towards his father, his hand outstretched, but Plankton took a step back, his antennas bristling. "I don't like your connecting," Plankton said, his voice cold. "I need you to leave me alone." His antennas waved erratically, a clear sign of his distress. Chip took another tentative step forward, reaching out again.. Plankton flinched, his antennas waving wildly. "I said no!" he shouted, his voice cracking. "I can't do this right now!" His eye darted around the room, seeking an escape from the overwhelming emotions. Chip's eyes filled with tears, but he knew pushing would only make things worse. He took a step back, his arms falling to his sides. "Ok," he whispered, his voice tight with unshed emotion.

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY iv ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ: t̶h̶r̶e̶a̶t̶ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᴰᵃʳᵏ ᵀᵒᵖⁱᶜˢ (By NeuroFabulous) ɪ ᴅᴏɴᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴀᴄᴛs "Chip!" Karen's voice was a whipcrack, full of pain and anger. "How could you say such a thing?" Plankton's eye were wet with unshed tears, his body trembling as he stared at his son, his mind racing to process the hurtful words. "Maybe I am a burden," he murmured, his voice so low it was almost lost in the heavy silence. Karen's grip on Chip's shoulder tightened. "That's enough," she said, her voice shaking. "You don't mean that, Chip." But the look on Plankton's face told her that the damage was done. Chip stared at his dad, his heart racing. He hadn't meant to say those things, but the anger and confusion had just spilled out. He saw the hurt in Plankton's eye, the same eyes that had looked at him with love and pride so many times before. He felt a lump form in his throat, his cheeks burning with guilt. "Dad, I'm, I just..." He trailed off, not knowing what to say next. Plankton's gaze was unflinching, his hurt palpable. Chip looked at his dad, his heart racing. He could see the pain etched on Plankton's face, the way his antennas drooped. "I didn't mean it," Chip stammered, his voice shaking. "I'm sorry." The silence was deafening. Plankton's eye searched his son's, looking for any hint of sincerity. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "You've never seen me as a burden before." The words were like a knife twisting in Karen's heart. Karen's eyes filled with tears as she watched the exchange between her husband and son. She had always tried to shield Chip from the harsh realities of Plankton's condition, but now it seemed those efforts had only created a chasm of misunderstanding. "Chip," she said, her voice shaking with emotion, "you know that's not true. Your father is not a burden. He's a brilliant scientist, a loving husband, and the best dad we could ever ask for." Chip's eyes fell to the floor, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his words. "But sometimes it feels like it," he mumbled, his voice thick with regret. Karen's eyes searched Chip's face, trying to understand his pain. "Sweetie, everyone has their own challenges. Daddy's just have to do with the way his brain works. It doesn't make him any less of a person or a dad." But Chip's frustration remained, his voice cracking. "But why can't he just get better?" he demanded, his eyes filled with a desperation that neither Karen nor Plankton had ever seen before. "I mean, if he's so smart, can't he just fix it? If not, then why do we have to keep him around?" Karen's heart sank as she watched the conversation spiral out of control. She knew that Chip didn't mean what he was saying, but the hurt on Plankton's face was real. But Chip wasn't listening. His thoughts had turned to a darker place, one fueled by his desperation for normalcy. In a moment of cruel manipulation, born out of fear and frustration, he looked up at Plankton. "Chip," Karen began, her voice firm but gentle, "autism isn't something that can be fixed. It's part of who your dad is. And we..." But Chip cut her off, his voice driven by a desperate anger that surprised even him. "If you can't play with me, if you can't be a real dad, then maybe you shouldn't be here at all," he said, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. "Maybe we should just... "Chip!" Karen's voice was a whipcrack, eyes filled with horror. "Chip, that's enough!" she snapped. But her words seemed to fall on deaf ears. Chip's mind was a tumultuous sea of emotions—his frustration, confusion, and fear of the unknown had led him to a dark and dangerous place. Plankton looked at his son, his eye wide with shock and pain. "Chip," he began, his voice shaking, "you don't mean that. I'm your father. I love you." But Chip's anger had turned to a cold resolve. "It's for the best," he said, his voice eerily calm. "If you can't be a real dad, then maybe it's time for you to go." The words hit Plankton like a freight train. He felt the air leave his lungs, his antennas drooping further than ever before. "Chip," he choked out, his voice shaking. "What are you saying?" Chip's eyes were cold, his face a mask of determination. "I'm saying that maybe you shouldn't be here," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Maybe it would be better for everyone if you just weren't around anymo-" He was cut off by a sound that seemed to shake the very foundations of the Chum Bucket—a wail so deep and mournful that it seemed to echo through the very fabric of their lives. It was Plankton, his tiny body wracked with sobs that seemed too large for his frame. Chip had never seen his dad cry before, and the sight of it made him feel small, his words weighing on him like an anchor. Karen's grip on his shoulder loosened, her eyes filled with a mix of shock and despair. She moved to comfort Plankton, her arms wrapping around him as he collapsed into her embrace. "It's okay," she whispered, rocking him gently. "It's okay." Chip stood there, watching his parents, the gravity of his words finally sinking in. He had never seen his dad like this before—so weak, so vulnerable. A pang of guilt shot through him, and he felt the weight of his own cruelty. Plankton continued to sob, his body convulsing with the force of his emotions. Karen looked up at Chip. "Your dad needs us right now," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "Please, go to your room and think about what you've said." Her eyes were filled with a mix of anger and sadness, but mostly, she looked disappointed. Chip nodded, feeling the full weight of his own words crash down on him. He turned and walked away, each step heavier than the last as he went to his own room.

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY xii (By NeuroFabulous) They walked back to the car. Chip felt a weight lifted from his chest. Plankton sat in the backseat by Chip as Karen drives. The car ride home was quiet, but it wasn't the uncomfortable silence that usually filled the space. Chip could feel the tension easing as they drove away from the beach. Plankton's antennas were relaxed. As the car hummed along, Plankton's eye began to droop, his head lolling to the side. He was falling asleep, his antennas finally at rest. Chip felt his dad's weight shift, his body leaning into his own. He glanced over. Plankton had fallen asleep on his shoulder, soft snores escaping Plankton's slightly open mouth. Karen glanced in the rearview mirror at them. The sight of Plankton's antennas still, his body relaxed against Chip, filled her with hope. Maybe today was a step in the right direction. Chip felt Plankton's warmth, his snores steady and comforting. He shifted slightly, trying not to disturb his dad's slumber. His own thoughts were anything but calm. He was eager to learn more about his father's condition, to find ways to bridge the gap that had formed between them. Karen's eyes met his in the rearview mirror, her expression a mixture of pride and concern. Her voice was a gentle hum as she said, "You're doing great, Chip." It was all the encouragement he needed to hold his position, his mind racing with questions. The car's soft purr lulled Plankton deeper into sleep, his antennas twitching every now and then, as if dreaming of a world where the waves were made of quiet. Chip felt a strange kinship in this moment, his curiosity about his father's autism growing with every molecule of the salty air that filled his lungs. He studied the contours of Plankton's face, the way his antennas danced with the gentle sway of the car. It was a side of his father he had rarely seen—vulnerable, peaceful, his usual armor of sharp words and defensive sarcasm stripped away. Carefully, Chip adjusted his posture, his muscles protesting the stillness. His hand hovered over his dad's shoulder, unsure if his touch would be a comfort or an intrusion. Plankton's antennas twitched in his sleep, his snores a gentle rumble. Chip took a deep breath and gently placed his hand on Plankton's shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his palm. He felt a strange sense of peace spread through him as he held his father up, supporting his sleeping form. The car hit a small bump, and Plankton's head lolled to the side, his antennas flailing slightly. Chip's heart skipped a beat, afraid he had disturbed him. But Plankton remained asleep, his breathing unchanged. He gently adjusted Plankton's weight, trying to find a more comfortable position that wouldn't wake him. The soft snores grew quieter as Chip carefully moved his arm, supporting his father's body with his hand. Plankton's antennas twitched slightly, but he remained asleep. Chip held his breath, his heart racing as he adjusted Plankton's weight. Karen's eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, her gaze meeting Chip's. She offered a supportive smile. "He's okay," she said softly. "You're doing well." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving Plankton's peaceful form. He felt a strange mix of emotions— relief that his father was at ease, but also anxiety about the fragility of the moment. What if he moved wrong and Plankton woke up upset? What if he didn't move enough and Plankton's shoulder grew sore? Karen's voice was a gentle reminder in the quiet car. "You're doing the right thing," she said, her eyes still on the road ahead. "Just keep being there for him. He must be tired after today." Chip nodded, his gaze never leaving Plankton's sleeping form. He felt the warmth of his dad's body against his own, the soft snores a comfort. As they pulled into the garage, the car's engine purred to a stop. Chip held his breath as his dad's antennas twitched, but Plankton remained asleep. Chip turned to Karen, his expression a silent question. Karen nodded. "Let's get him inside," she murmured. They carefully unbuckled Plankton's seatbelt, his body still heavy with sleep. Chip slid his arm around his dad's waist. Karen opened the door, holding it wide. Together, they moved in a silent dance, lifting Plankton from his seat and guiding him out of the car. His antennas remained still, his body loose and relaxed against Chip's side as Karen put her hands under Plankton's armpits aiding in the gentle transfer. Plankton's head lolled back onto Chip's shoulder, his snores a soft counterpoint to the mechanical sounds of the garage door closing. They both lifted Plankton up by holding his arms, moving slowly and carefully as not to disturb his sleep. The house was cool and dimly lit, designed to be a haven for Plankton. They maneuvered him through the door, his bare feet dragging slightly. As they approached the couch, Chip's heart pounded in his chest. They had to be so careful not to disturb his father's rest. They lowered Plankton's body slowly, inch by inch, until he was lying down. His antennas twitched, but he remained asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Chip's arm was a cradle, supporting his father's head as they eased him onto the soft cushions.

hopefully my writing posts help ppl to feel understood or at least get a glimpse of all the possibilities neurodiverse ppl may experience (: (my search NeuroFabulous)

Karen had always loved her husband Plankton. His mind was a bastion of order in a world that often seemed too noisy and chaotic for him. Plankton had a way of seeing patterns and connections that she never could. He'd spend hours meticulously categorizing his collections. It was his way of making sense of the world, a comforting rhythm she learned to appreciate. But today was one of those days where Plankton's brain seemed to betray him. It was a silent, unassuming morning until Plankton froze. His eye glazes over, and his body stiffened like a plank. Karen's heart skipped a beat, knowing all too well what was happening. Her mind raced as she quickly took action. She guided him to the safe spot they'd designated for these moments, a corner padded with cushions and devoid of sharp edges. His body began to convulse, a symphony of uncontrolled movements that didn't match the calmness of the surroundings. She felt her own heart race, her palms sweating, but she knew she had to be his rock, his anchor. Suddenly his friend Sponge Bob came in; he's never seen nor heard of Plankton like this before. "What's happening to him?" Sponge Bob asked, his voice quivering with concern. Karen took a deep breath. "He has autistic seizures," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "It's like his brain gets overwhelmed with stimuli, and it just... short-circuits." SpongeBob's eyes widened beyond belief, taking in the scene before him. Plankton's tiny frame jerked and tremored. It was a stark contrast to the precise, orderly Plankton he knew. "Is he okay?" Sponge Bob stammered, his hands waving in the air, unsure what to do. "Just stay calm," Karen instructed, her eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "These usually pass quickly. I need to make sure he doesn't hurt himself." She moved swiftly, carefully placing pillows under his head. Sponge Bob nodded, his concern growing as he watched his friend suffer. He wished he could do something, anything to help. "Can I talk to him?" he asked tentatively, his thumbs tucked into his pants, fidgeting. "It's better to let him be," Karen advised gently. "He can't process much during this. But once it's over, you can." When Plankton's convulsions finally ceased, his body limp, and his eye flutters closed. Karen checked his pulse, sighing in relief when she found it steady and strong. She looked up at Sponge Bob, her expression a mix of worry and fatigue. "Just be there for him when he wakes up," Karen said. "He'll be disoriented. He might not understand what happened." Sponge Bob nodded solemnly. He couldn't imagine what it must be like for Plankton, trapped in his own mind during these episodes. As Karen tended to Plankton, Sponge Bob felt a surge of curiosity. With a newfound determination, Sponge Bob turned to Karen, his eyes brimming with hope. "Could he maybe like... can he understand me now?" Karen looked at Plankton, still twitching, but clearly drained. She nodded slowly. "He can hear you. Just keep it simple and soothing." Sponge Bob approached cautiously, his eyes fixed on his friend. He knelt down and took Plankton's hand in his spongy grip. "Plankton," he whispered, "It's me, Sponge Bob. You're safe now." Plankton's eyelid fluttered, a hint of recognition flickering across his face. Karen offered Sponge Bob a small, grateful smile. She knew how much Plankton valued his friendship. Sponge Bob cleared his throat, his words gentle and measured. "Remember when we played catch with jellyfish?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're the best at catching them, Plankton. Your reflexes are so fast, it's like you're a jellyfish ninja." Karen smiles. Plankton's eye is open, but unfocused, as if looking through Sponge Bob instead of at him. His pupil is dilated, and his gaze is distant. Sponge Bob's heart swells with a mix of hope and concern. "Plankton?" he calls again, a little louder this time. No response, just the slightest twitch. He's there, but not really. Karen watches closely, a silent guardian making sure her husband doesn't slip back into the chaos that had consumed him. The room feels eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the usual symphony of sounds that filled their lives. Karen's eyes are filled with love and fear, a potent mix that's all too familiar. She's seen this before, Plankton's mind retreating into itself when the world becomes too much. Sponge Bob squeezes Plankton's hand, trying to ground him in reality, but his friend's hand is cold and limp. "You know, Plankton," he starts again, his voice quivering slightly, "you're like a tiny superhero with a giant brain. Nothing gets past you." Then, as if a switch was flipped, Plankton's body starts to jerk again, but this time, the movements aren't the violent convulsions of a seizure. They're smaller, faster - tics. His head tilts quickly. Karen's eyes narrow slightly as she recognizes the signs. This was a common aftermath of his seizures, his brain's way of recalibrating itself. "It's okay," she soothes, her voice a gentle melody that pierced through the tension. "Just ride it out." Karen's eyes never leave his, her gaze a silent promise of protection and patience. She knew these tics were a part of his autism, a way for his body to cope with the overwhelming input. It was as if the world was too loud for him, and his body had found its own rhythm to try to drown out the noise. The tics grew more frequent, his head jerking in quick, spasmodic movements. Sponge Bob's grip tightens on his hand, his own heart racing. He didn't understand what was happening, but he knew his friend needed him now more than ever. Karen's voice remained soothing, a constant in the storm of Plankton's neurological maelstrom. "It's okay," she said softly. "Let it happen." Sponge Bob watched, his eyes wide with concern. He'd never seen his friend like this before. The tics grew in intensity, Plankton's head snapping to a nod, his limbs twitching erratically. It was like watching a tiny, trapped bird, desperately trying to find its way out of a cage made of its own nervous system. "It's okay," Karen repeated, her voice a beacon of calm in the chaos. "These are just his tics. They're part of his autism. It's his brain's way of adjusting after a seizure." Sponge Bob nodded, trying to absorb the information. He'd known Plankton for years but had never known or seen him like this. Then Plankton's eye focused on Sponge Bob. A flicker of recognition sparked in the depths. "Sp...Sponge Bob?" he stuttered, his voice weak and tremulous. Sponge Bob's smile grew wider, relieved to hear his friend's voice. "Hey, buddy," he said. Plankton's head continued to twitch in a nodding motion, his eye blinking rapidly as he tried to focus on Sponge Bob's face. The tics were less intense now, but they were still present, a subtle reminder of the storm that had raged within him moments ago. Karen knew that this was the part where he'd start to come back to them. Karen explained, "The tics can last for a bit, but he'll be back to normal soon." Sponge Bob nodded, his grip on Plankton's hand steadying as he watched his friend's eye refocus. He didn't understand it, but he knew Plankton needed time. As the tics began to subside, Plankton's hand squeezed Sponge Bob's in weak acknowledgment. Sponge Bob felt a wave of relief crash over him. "I'm here," he murmured, his voice quiet and reassuring. Plankton's breathing grew more even, his body finally relaxing. The twitches gradually slowed until they were barely noticeable. It was like watching a tightly wound clockwork toy slowly unwinding. Karen reached over to stroke Plankton's arm, her touch feather-light. "You're going to be okay," she said. (my search NeuroFabulous)

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY iii ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ: t̶h̶r̶e̶a̶t̶ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᴰᵃʳᵏ ᵀᵒᵖⁱᶜˢ (By NeuroFabulous) ɪ ᴅᴏɴᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴀᴄᴛs Karen turned to Chip, her face a mask of calmness. She knew she had to explain, but she also knew it wasn't going to be easy. "Let's go talk to Dad," she said, her voice steady. Chip nodded, his hand in hers as they walked back up the stairs. Plankton was still sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked up as they approached. "Daddy?" Chip's voice was small and trembling. Plankton's expression shifted from confusion to realization. He knew he had been somewhere else, lost in his thoughts again. Karen sat down next to Plankton, her eyes meeting Chip's. "Chip, sweetie, there's something we need to tell you about Daddy," she began, her voice a gentle whisper. Chip looked at her, his eyes full of questions. "What is it, Mom?" Karen took a deep breath. "Your Dad has something called autism," she began, her voice soft. "It's like a special way his brain works that makes him see the world differently than we do." Chip's eyes widened. "Is that why he did those weird things?" he asked, his voice filled with curiosity rather than judgment, but that's not how Plankton took it. His expression grew defensive. "Weird things?" Plankton's voice was sharp. "What do you mean, Chip?" Karen's gaze softened as she saw the look of hurt in Plankton's eye. She placed a comforting hand on Chip's shoulder. "Sweetie, it's not that he does weird things. It's just that sometimes his brain needs a break. It's like he goes on a little vacation without telling us. It's called an episode." Plankton flinched at the word, his antennas drooping. "But why does it happen?" Chip asked, his voice still filled with innocence. "Well, autism is like a different operating system for the brain," Karen explained, choosing her words carefully. "Some people with autism have moments where their brains need to recharge or process information in a way that's unique to them. It's not weird or wrong, just different." Chip looked from Karen to Plankton, his mind racing with questions. "So my dad's just being... special?" he asked, trying to make sense of the situation. Plankton's gaze fell to the floor, feeling patronized and belittled by Chip's curiosity. "In a way, yes," Karen said, her voice soothing. "But it's not something to be ashamed of. It's part of who Daddy is, and it makes him special in a lot of wonderful ways." She took his hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "But it can also make things difficult for him, like today." Chip nodded slowly, trying to digest the information. "Does that mean he won't ever be able to play with us like other dads?" His question, though unintentionally, was laced with a hint of disappointment. Plankton's eye narrowed, and he felt the sting of microaggression in his son's words. "Chip, I can play with you. It's just sometimes I need to be by myself, okay?" His voice was tight, the frustration of years of misunderstanding bubbling to the surface. Karen intervened, sensing the tension. "Chip, Dad's episodes are just part of who he is. He loves you very much, and he'll always be here for you." But Chip's mind was racing. He couldn't help but wonder if there was something wrong with his dad. He looked at Plankton, his confusion and fear evident. "But why does he have to be like this?" Karen sighed, her heart heavy with the weight of the conversation. "Chip," she said gently, "it's not a choice. It's just how Daddy's brain is wired. It's not something bad, just different." Chip frowned, his brow furrowed as he thought. "But why can't he just turn it off?" He didn't mean to sound so dismissive, but the concept of his father being 'different' was still difficult to grasp. "Why's he gotta have this...this thing? I mean, if it makes him sick, why do we have to keep hanging out with him?" The words were out before Chip could even realize the impact they would have. Plankton's eye snapped up. A wave of fury washed over his face, his small form seemingly growing in size as his autistic mind processed the unintended slight. "You think I'm sick?" he roared, his voice echoing through the room, the walls seemingly trembling with his rage. The sudden outburst startled Chip, his eyes going wide with shock. He had never seen his dad like this before—his usually quiet and introspective father now a whirlwind of raw emotion. Karen's grip on his shoulder tightened, a silent warning to tread carefully. "No, Chip," she began, her voice firm but calm. "Autism isn't an illness. It's not something Daddy can just turn off or ignore." But Plankton's fury was unyielding. He stood up, his entire body trembling with the intensity of his anger. "You think I'm a burden?" he shouted, his voice shaking the very air around them. Karen's eyes flashed with a protective flame, her grip on Chip's shoulder becoming almost painful. "Chip, you need to apologize to your father," she said, her voice leaving no room for argument. Chip looked up at her, his own anger building. "Why? I just want a dad who's normal!" His voice was laced with frustration and hurt. "Why can't he just be like everyone else's dads or else leave?" The words hung in the air like a toxic cloud, heavy with ableism and pain. Karen's face fell, her heart breaking for Plankton. "Chip, that's not fair," she said, her voice a mix of disappointment and sadness. "Your dad can't just change who he is because you don't understand." Plankton's face was a storm of emotion. He looked from Karen to Chip, his anger fading to something deeper, something more profound. It was the look of a man whose entire world had just been questioned by the person he loved most. "You think I'm not good enough?" he whispered, his voice shaking with barely contained hurt. Karen's eyes filled with tears, her heart breaking for her husband. "Chip, that's not what you meant," she began, but Plankton cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Let him speak," he said, his voice deflated. "Let him say what he really thinks." His gaze was unblinking, a challenge in his eye that Chip didn't quite understand. Karen took a deep breath, her heart breaking for the both of them. "Chip," she started, her voice steady despite her tears. "You know we love your dad just the way he is, right?" But Chip's anger and confusion were like a dam that had burst. "Yeah, but why does he have to be like this?" he demanded. "Why don't you just get me a better dad?" The words were like a slap in the face, and Plankton's eye widened in shock. Karen's grip on Chip's shoulder tightened, but she didn't say a word. She knew this was something Chip had to work through on his own. "Better?" Plankton's voice was hollow, echoing the emptiness in Chip's heart. "What makes a 'better' dad, Chip?" Chip's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger. "One who can play with me without getting stuck like a broken toy!" he shot back. "Even Mom doesn't want you around when you're like that!" The accusation hung in the air like a sword, slicing through the tension. Plankton's antennas drooped, his eye reflecting a deep hurt that Chip couldn't comprehend. "Is that what you think, Karen?" he asked, his voice barely audible. Karen's eyes snapped to Chip, her expression a mix of anger and sorrow. "That's not what anyone thinks, Chip," she said firmly. "Your dad is a wonderful person. And he's the only dad you've got." But Chip's frustration had taken over. "Yeah, well, maybe you should've picked a dad who actually deserves to be here," he spat, his words dripping with accusation. "May be we'd be happier if we could just start over without the 'autistic' baggage and get someone who doesn't need to be babysat all the time. Or better yet, maybe we should just get rid of him." His voice was harsh, his thoughts racing in a whirlwind of pain and confusion. The room fell silent, the air thick with the tension of unspoken truths and misunderstood pain. Karen's hands were trembling, her eyes filled with a mix of anger and hurt. "Chip, you can't say things like that," she managed to choke out, her voice barely above a whisper. Plankton's expression was unreadable, his body rigid with the weight of his son's accusations. "Is that what you want?" he asked, his voice devoid of emotion. "Do you wish I was gone?" Karen's grip tightened on Chip's shoulder, her eyes flashing with anger and hurt. "Chip, that's enough!" she exclaimed. "You don't mean that!" But Chip's rage was like a wildfire, spreading uncontrollably. "Maybe we would!" Chip shouted, his voice echoing through the room. He didn't know where these words were coming from, but they felt like a release from the pressure cooker of his thoughts. "Maybe if you weren't around, we could be a real family! Even Mom wouldn't have to pretend everything's okay all the time, because she's too nice to go out and get a husband instead of being a burden she has to take care of like a parasite!" The moment the words left his mouth, Chip felt a deep pang of regret. But the damage was done. Karen's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. Plankton's antennas quivered, his face white as a sheet.

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY vi (By NeuroFabulous) Outside, the corridor was cold and empty, the neon lights of the Chum Bucket flickering above them. Karen's eyes were filled with a sadness that Chip had never seen before. "Why did I say those things?" Chip asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it." Karen took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "Your dad's autism is life-long," she said, her voice shaky. "It's not something that you can just ignore or wish away." Her hand rested on his shoulder, warm and comforting. "But it doesn't make him any less of a person, or any less of a father. He loves you so much, Chip. More than you'll ever know." Chip nodded, his eyes still on the floor. "But I hurt him," he said, his voice a whisper. "I don't know how to take it back." Karen's grip tightened on his shoulder. "You will," she assured him, her voice steady despite her own emotions. "You'll learn to understand, and you'll tell him you're sorry. But right now, let's just give him some space." They walked down the corridor, each step echoing in the silence. "But why does Dad get so upset?" Chip asked, his voice still shaky. "Is it becau…" "His emotions can be intense," Karen explained, her voice gentle. "It's part of his autism, Chip. Sometimes, things that seem small to us can feel really big to him." She paused, her gaze distant as she searched for the right words. "Imagine if someone kept turning the lights on and off while you were trying to read a book. It's like that for him, but with sounds, and feelings." Chip frowned, trying to comprehend. "But why does he get so mad at me?" His voice was small, filled with a sadness that tugged at Karen's heart. Karen sighed, her eyes full of empathy. "Your dad's brain works differently, honey," she said, her tone soft. "Sometimes things can be overwhelming for him. And when he's overwhelmed, his feelings can get really big, like a wave that crashes down and covers everything." She paused, considering her words carefully. "It's not because he doesn't love you. It's just how he deals with things." Chip nodded slowly, his eyes still red and swollen from crying. "But why does he freeze up?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's like he's not even there." Karen's gaze softened, her hand still on his shoulder. "Sometimes, his brain gets too full, and he ends up having an absence seizure, where he just sort of... goes away for a bit. It's like his brain is taking a quick vacation," she said, trying to make it relatable for Chip. "But he's always right here." Chip looked up at her, his eyes filled with a mix of confusion and fear. "But why does he do that?" he whispered. "Is he okay?" Karen's hand squeezed his shoulder, her eyes full of warmth. "It's a part of his autism, sweetie," she said, her voice soft. "When things get too much, his brain automatically just... takes a break. It's not something he does on purpose, it's just his body's way of coping." "But it scares me," Chip admitted, his voice shaking slightly. "It feels like he's gone." Karen nodded, her eyes brimming with understanding. "I know it's scary, honey," she said, her voice soothing. "But it's important to remember that it's just his brain taking a little break. It doesn't mean he doesn't love you or isn't there for you." "But how do I know when it's going to happen?" Chip's voice was filled with a desperate need to understand, to control the chaos his father's condition had brought into his life. Karen took a deep breath, her eyes full of compassion. "You can't always know, Chip," she said gently. "But you can learn to recognize the signs." Her hand slid down to his, giving it a comforting squeeze. "When he starts getting upset, or if you see him getting overwhelmed, that's when you know he might need some space or a quiet moment to regroup." "But why does he hate hugs?" Chip's question hung in the air, filled with the innocence of a child seeking understanding. Karen took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "It's not that he hates hugs, Chip," she said, her voice gentle. "It's just that sometimes, certain textures or pressures can be really overwhelming for him. It's like if someone was tickling you non-stop, even when you asked them to stop—it would drive you crazy, right?" Chip thought about it, nodding slowly. "But I don't get it," he said. "Why can't he just get used to it? I've seen you hug..." "It's not that simple," Karen interrupted gently. "I know you don't understand, but hugs can be really difficult for your dad. His body can't always make sense of the sensation, and it can feel like too much all at once." Chip frowned, his eyes searching hers for answers. "But both of you hug each other," he pointed out. "Why.." "It's different for me," Karen said, her voice soft. "Your dad's senses are like a radio that's always tuned in too loud. Sometimes, when we hug, it's like turning the volume down just enough for him to handle it." Her smile was sad but patient. "It's taken us years to figure out what works for us, Chip. Everyone's different, even with autism." Chip nodded, trying to understand. "But what do I do when he doesn't want to hug?" he asked, his voice tentative. "What if I just want to show him I love him?" Karen's eyes searched his, seeing the raw emotion beneath the surface. "You can show him in other ways," she said, smiling gently. "Words, or just sitting near him, or even just being patient with him when he's having a tough time." Chip considered this, his brow furrowed in thought. "But I want to make him happy," he said, his voice earnest. "How do I do that?" Karen's smile was sad, but understood. "You do that by loving him, Chip," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "By accepting him for who he is and not trying to change him. By being patient when he needs space, and by being there when he's ready for company. He does enjoy helping you with your experiments, doesn't he?" Chip nodded, remembering the times his dad had been most engaged and happy. "Yeah," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "He's the best at science." Karen's smile grew a little wider at this. "That's because his brain works differently," she said. "Sometimes, the way he processes information can make certain things easier for him to understand and enjoy." "But what if I don't know what to do?" Chip's voice was filled with a desperate need for guidance. "What if I make him upset?" Karen looked into her son's worried eyes and took a deep breath. "You'll learn, Chip. We all do. Your dad has his own ways of communicating, even if they're not always verbal. Sometimes, it's just about paying attention." "What do you mean?" Chip's eyes searched hers. Karen took a moment before answering, her gaze drifting to a spot over his head. "Look for the little things, Chip," she said, her voice thoughtful. "Like how his antennas move, or the way his eye looks. Sometimes, his body will tell you more than his words can. I know when he's happy because his antennas perk up and his eye twinkles." Chip watched her intently, his mind racing with questions. "What about when he's sad?" he asked, his voice small. Karen's gaze softened, her thumb gently stroking the back of his hand. "When he's sad, his antennas drop down," she said. Chip nodded, his eyes studying her intently. "And when he's mad?" Karen's expression grew more serious. "When he's angry, his antennas might go stiff and his brow can get really rigid," she explained. "It's his way of saying 'I'm overwhelmed, and I need you to back off.'" Chip nodded slowly, taking it all in. "And when do you know how he'd like to accept a hug?" Karen looked thoughtful. "Well, his body language will give you clues," she said. "If his antennas are relaxed and pointing slightly towards you, it might mean he's open to one. But always ask, okay?" Chip nodded, feeling a bit more hopeful. "How do I tell if he's uncomfortable with touch?" he asked, his eyes wide with concern. Karen squeezed his hand. "Look for the signs," she said. "If his body stiffens or his antennas pull back, it's usually a clue that he's not enjoying it." She smiled softly. "But remember, everyone's different, even within the spectrum. What works for one person with autism might not work for your dad." Chip nodded, his eyes wide with understanding. "Okay," he said, his voice small. "But what different types of touch..." "It's all about sensory input," Karen said, cutting him off gently. "Some textures and sensations might feel like sandpaper to him, while others might be soothing. It's a delicate balance, and it's different for everyone. But for your dad, he often prefers gentle, predictable touches. Like a soft touch on the arm. But he tends to dislike sudden hugs or pats on the back, or a squeeze of the shoulder." Her eyes searched Chip's, looking for any signs of doubt or confusion. "But always ask before you touch him," she added. "It's important to respect his boundaries." Chip nodded, his mind racing. "But what if he doesn't say anything?" he asked. "How will I know?" Karen sighed, her eyes reflecting the years of experience. "That's the tough part, Chip," she admitted. "Sometimes, your dad can't find the words. But if you pay close attention, you'll see the signs." "Signs?" Chip's voice was filled with uncertainty. Karen nodded solemnly. "When he starts to get overwhelmed, his body will show it," she said. "His antennas might jerk, or his eye might dart around the room. Sometimes, he'll repeat words or phrases over and over, like he's trying to find the right one to express how he feels."

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY ix (By NeuroFabulous) Karen stepped in, her voice calm but firm. "Chip, let's give your dad some space," she said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "He needs time to process this." Chip nodded, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and understanding. He looked at Plankton one last time, his hand still hovering in the air. Plankton's antennas were still quivering, but his eye had softened slightly. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes. He stepped back, allowing Karen to lead him out of the room. As the door clicked shut behind them, Chip couldn't help but feel a sense of failure. He had wanted to bridge the gap between them, but instead, it felt like he had only driven it wider. Chip couldn't shake the image of his dad's antennas, a silent language of pain and anger. He knew he needed to learn to understand these subtle cues, to navigate the complex world of his father's autism. In the quiet hallway, Chip swiped at his eyes, trying to comfort himself with the knowledge that Plankton's outburst wasn't personal. It was just his brain's way of coping with the overwhelming emotions. But understanding didn't make the hurt any less real. He looked up at Karen, his eyes pleading. "What do we do?" Karen's expression was a mix of sadness and resilience. "We give him space," she said firmly. "He needs to come to terms with his feelings in his own way." Chip nodded, his eyes still on the closed door. "But what if he doesn't want me around?" he asked, his voice trembling. Karen took a deep breath, her hand rubbing his back in gentle circles. "Your dad loves you, Chip," she assured him. "He's just scared that you'll never truly understand him." She paused, her gaze thoughtful. "But you can show him that you're willing to try." They walked down the hallway, leaving Plankton's room behind them. Chip felt his heart heavy in his chest, the weight of his father's pain pressing down on him. "How?" he asked, his voice small. "How do I show him?" Karen squeezed his shoulder. "You just do," she said, her voice filled with a quiet strength. "You learn about autism, you learn about his likes and dislikes, and you listen to him." He had wanted to make his father happy, but instead, he had pushed him away. He sat down on the couch, his shoulders slumped. Meanwhile, Plankton remained in his room, his antennas drooping as his thoughts raced. He felt the weight of their conversation, his chest tight with the effort of keeping his emotions in check. He eventually goes out to find Chip and Karen in the living room. "Chip," he said, his voice shaky but determined. Chip looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and hopeful. Plankton stood in the doorway, his antennas slightly less rigid than before. Karen nodded encouragingly, giving him a gentle push forward. "I'm sorry, Dad," Chip said, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn't mean to upset you." Plankton's antennas twitched, his gaze drifting to the floor. "I know," he murmured. "But you have to understand, it's not easy." He took a deep breath, his body visibly relaxing. "I don't mean to push..." Karen stepped in, her voice soothing. "Why don't we all do something we enjoy?" she suggested. "Maybe something that won't overwhelm?" Chip's eyes lit up at the thought. "Yeah, like what?" Plankton took a moment, his antennas moving slightly as he thought. "How about a trip?" he suggested, his voice tentative. "Drive to the beach. It's quiet and calming." Chip's face lit up with excitement. "The beach?" He hadn't been in ages, and it was one of Plankton's favorite places. "Yes, let's do that!" Karen gave Plankton a warm smile. "That's a great idea," she said, her voice filled with relief and gratitude. In the car, the tension slowly began to dissipate as the ocean air filled the vehicle. Chip sat in the back, fidgeting with his seatbelt. "Dad, I want to ask you something," he said, his voice tentative. Plankton turned in his seat, his antennas twitching with curiosity. "What is it?" he asked, his voice a little softer than before. Chip took a deep breath, his heart racing. "I just want to know what I can do to help," he said, his eyes earnest. "What do you like?" Plankton's antennas moved slightly, a sign that he was processing the question. "Well," he began, his voice still tight with emotion, "I like it when you're patient with me." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving his father's profile. "Okay," he said, his voice small. "What else?" Plankton's antennas moved slightly as he thought. "I like it when you ask before you touch me," he said. "And when you respect my need for quiet sometimes." His eye flickered to the side, looking at Chip. "And I like it when you don't try to change me." Chip nodded, his eyes filling with tears. "I'll try, Dad," he said, his voice earnest. "I'll always ask, and I'll always love you just the way you are."

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY xi (By NeuroFabulous) Plankton remained silent, his gaze locked on the horizon. Chip's heart ached for him, but he knew his father needed space to regain his composure. He watched as Plankton's antennas gradually lifted from their defeated slump, a subtle signal that he was okay. Chip took a deep breath, the salt air filling his lungs as he tried to think of a way to make things right. He knew he had to be careful, not to push too hard. "Dad," he began tentatively, "I know I messed up with the noise. I'll be quieter. Do you wanna kick the ball around?" Plankton's antennas twitched, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. He took a moment before turning to his son. "It's okay," he said, his voice still a little tight. "Yeah, let's kick the ball to each other.." They resumed the game, their movements quieter now. The beach ball rolled gently across the sand, its soft thuds the only sound between them. Chip felt a newfound respect for the complexities of Plankton's mind, for the challenges he faced every day. Plankton's antennas moved slightly as he watched Chip, his expression unreadable. Chip took care to keep his voice low, his movements slow and predictable. He knew that every little thing mattered to his father, every sound, every touch. As they played, Chip noticed that his father's antennas would perk up whenever a seagull squawked in the distance or a child's laughter carried on the breeze. He also noticed that Plankton's movements grew more fluid when the noise around them diminished. "Let's go closer to the water," Plankton suggested after a while, his antennas swaying gently. "It's quieter there." Chip nodded, understanding that his father needed to escape the potential sensory assault of the bustling beach. They walked in silence, their footprints disappearing behind them in the wet sand. The waves whispered to them, a gentle melody that seemed to soothe Plankton's antennas. When they reached the water's edge, Plankton took a deep breath, his antennas lifting slightly. The cool water made him flinch a bit. "You okay, Dad?" Chip asked, his eyes scanning for any signs of distress. Plankton nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah," he said, his voice calmer. "It's just chilly." Karen packed up their picnic, her movements efficient and quiet. She knew the importance of keeping the environment peaceful for Plankton. "Ready to go?" she called out. Chip nodded, his gaze still on his father's antennas. "Yeah, I'm ready." Plankton's antennas remained steady, a good sign. Karen picked up the picnic basket and gave them both a warm smile. "Let's make the trip home," she said, her voice calm.

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY xiii (By NeuroFabulous) Once Plankton was settled, Chip swallowed his pride and spoke, his voice a whisper. "Can I sleep here by Dad tonight?" Karen paused, her eyes searching Chip's. She knew the request was more than just wanting to be close—it was a plea to be part of Plankton's world, to understand his needs. She nodded. "Of course. Just don't disturb him." Chip nodded. He carefully arranged a pillow and a blanket for his father, tucking him in with gentle precision. Plankton's snores grew deeper, a testament to his comfort, as Chip got a pillow for himself as he got under the blanket. Karen watched from the hallway, her heart swelling with pride. She knew the effort it took for Chip to be so attentive to his father's needs, especially after the emotional turmoil of the day. She whispered a goodnight and retreated to her room, leaving them to their quiet vigil. Chip lay there, his heart racing with the unfamiliar responsibility. He knew Plankton's sleep must be precarious, easily disrupted by the slightest disturbance. He focused on the steady rhythm of his father's breathing, the soft snores that punctuated the silence. He studied Plankton's features in the dim light, noticing the way his antennas lay still against the pillow. He felt a pang of guilt for the stress he had unknowingly caused earlier, but also a fierce determination to be better, to learn and understand. With a gentle touch, Chip reached out and lightly brushed Plankton's antenna. It twitched, but Plankton's sleep remained undisturbed. Chip knew his father's comfort was crucial, especially after the sensory bombards of the day. He lay there for hours, his own thoughts racing with questions about autism and how to support his dad. He made a mental note to find out, to understand the nuances of Plankton's condition, and to become an advocate for his father's needs. The first light of dawn began to filter through the curtains, painting the room in a soft glow. Plankton's antennas twitched, his eye fluttering open. Chip held his breath, not wanting to startle him. Slowly, Plankton's antennas lifted, his body stretching with the beginnings of wakefulness. His eye focused on Chip's face, and for a brief moment, there was confusion. Then, recognition. "Chip?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. Chip offered a tentative smile. "Hey, Dad," he whispered. Plankton's antennas swayed slightly as he sat up, his eye blinking away the sleep. He took a moment to process the situation, his gaze flitting around the living room. Last thing he remembered, they were all driving home from the beach.

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY xiv (By NeuroFabulous) "What happened?" Plankton asked, his voice scratchy. Chip sat up, the morning light casting a soft glow on his face. "You fell asleep in the car," he said softly. "We didn't want to wake you." Plankton's antennas twitched as he took in his surroundings. The couch felt unusually comfortable, and his body was cocooned in the warmth of the blanket. "Oh," he murmured, his voice still groggy. He felt a twinge of embarrassment. He knew he had been tired, but falling asleep in the car was not something he usually did. And in front of Chip? He realizes that he slept through the night. Plankton felt a twinge of self- consciousness, his antennas drooping slightly. He had always been so careful, so controlled, around his son. But here he was, vulnerable and exposed, his body betraying his usual stoic demeanor. Chip noticed the change in his father's antennas, his heart tugging with emotion. He knew this was a side of Plankton that few people ever saw—his defenses down, his guard momentarily lowered. He took a deep breath, trying to think of the right thing to say. "Dad, it's okay," he said, his voice soft. "We all get tired. You just fell aslee—" "I know what happened," Plankton snapped, his antennas surging with irritation. He swung his legs over the side of the couch, his feet finding the cool tiles of the floor. Chip recoiled slightly, his hands coming up in a placating gesture. "I just meant—" But Plankton was already standing, his antennas rigid with tension. He stumbled slightly, his balance off from sleep. Chip jumped to his feet, reaching out to steady him. "Dad, you okay?" Plankton's antennas flattened against his head, his eye darting around the room. "I'm fine," he said, his voice tight. Chip's heart sank at the familiar defensive tone, but he knew better than to push. "Okay, Dad," he said, his voice soft. "Do you wa-" "I said I'm fine!" Plankton interrupted, his antennas bristling. "Just leave me alone." Chip took a step back, his hands up in a gesture of peace. He didn't know what to say, his mind racing with the fear that he had done something wrong. He watched as Plankton's antennas twitched erratically, his father's body language speaking volumes about his inner turmoil. "Dad," he began, his voice low and soothing. "Yo-" But Plankton was already moving away, his steps unsteady as he went to the room he shares with Karen. Chip followed him in, his heart aching for the man he was still trying to understand. "Dad, can we talk?" Chip asked, his voice gentle. "I just want to make su—" "What is there to talk about?" Plankton's antennas were a blur of agitation. "You saw me at my weakest, what more do you need to know?" Chip felt his heart drop, his hands curling into fists. "Dad, I just wanted to be there for you," he said, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean to make you feel..." But Plankton was already fumbling with his pillows, his antennas a flurry of anger as Karen sat up in her bed. Chip tries again, going onto Plankton's bed. "Dad, you don't have to be self-conscious with me," Chip said, his voice earnest. "I wa-" Plankton's antennas shot up, his eye flashing. "Don't tell me what I feel!" he snapped. "I said to leave me alone, Chip!" Chip felt the sting of his father's words, but he knew that the anger was a defense mechanism. He took a deep breath, trying to maintain his calm. "I'm sor-" "Just go, Chip," Plankton's voice was exhausted. "Please." Chip felt the rejection like a physical blow, his cheeks flaming with embarrassment. He knew he had overstepped a boundary, but he wasn't sure which one. Karen's expression was one of sadness as she watched the exchange from her side of the bed. "What's going on?" Plankton took a deep breath, his antennas still agitated. "Chip just... he saw me fall asleep in the car," he said, his voice gruff. "He's been hovering ever since!" Karen's eyes searched Chip's face, seeing the hurt and confusion. "Chip," she began gently, "your dad's just overwhelmed. He's not used to being so vulnerable in front of you." Chip nodded, his throat tight. "I just saw him sleeping," he said, his voice small. "I didn't... he just woke up, and he-" Karen held up a hand, her gaze compassionate. "It's ok," she said. "Just give him some space." Chip nodded, his eyes still on Plankton's retreating back. But as Chip stood up, his elbow accidentally brushed against one of Plankton's antennas. The reaction was instantaneous— a sharp intake of breath, antennas springing straight up. Chip froze, his heart racing. "I'm sorry," he stuttered, his hand reaching out to apologize. But Plankton's eye had gone wide, his antennas quivering with sensory overload. "Don't touch me!" he snapped, his voice high-pitched and strained. Chip's hand recoiled as if burned, his own eyes wide with shock. "Dad, I'm sorry!" he exclaimed. "It was an accident, I didn't mean to—" But Plankton was already retreating, his antennas a wild mess of sensory overload. "I said don't touch me!" he repeated, his voice trembling. "Just get out!" Chip stepped back, his hands lifting in the air as if to ward off the accusation. "Dad, I'm sorry," he said, his voice shaking. "I didn't mean to—" But Plankton was beyond words, his body a live wire of sensory assault. Chip had inadvertently touched a nerve, literally and figuratively. The sudden contact had sent a jolt through his father's system, setting off a storm of sensations that Plankton was desperately trying to contain. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Chip murmured, his eyes wide with concern. He knew he had to respect Plankton's boundaries, especially after all the conversations they'd just had about his condition. He backed away, his hands up in a non- threatening gesture. Karen's voice was calm as she addressed her husband. "Plankton, love, it's okay. It was just an accident. Chip's here to help." Plankton's antennas slowly lowered, his breaths coming in short gasps. "Dad," Chip said gently, his voice tight with worry. "I'm sorry." He took another step back, giving his father the space he so desperately needed. "I wanted to he-" "I know," Plankton's voice was strained, his antennas twitching with the effort to regain control. "I know you meant well, Chip." The room was thick with silence, the tension palpable. Karen rose from the bed, moving towards Plankton with careful steps. "Plankton, let's sit down," she suggested, her voice soothing. He sat down on his bed. But as Chip stepped back, his elbow brushed against the bookshelf, and the carefully arranged books came tumbling down. The thunderous sound echoed through the room, Plankton's antennas shooting straight up in alarm. Not only was it to loud, but the books were all carefully alphabetized, yet now they lay scattered on the floor.