r/TwoSentenceHorror 5 yr. ago AlexDalcourt I like to flap my hands and vocalize- sometimes I do it in public. "Reports coming in that an Autistic child was killed by police for suspicious behaviour and resistance of arrest."

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 6 (𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ. sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ The sounds Plankton makes shift again. "Skrink, skrink." Karen's eyes light up with understanding. "It's his brain's new way of saying 'I'm okay'," she whispers. "It's a 'stim'." Chip looks at his dad, his curiosity piqued. Plankton's antennae wriggle, his eye glazed over. "Skrink, skrink, skrink." The sounds are soothing, almost hypnotic. "It's like he's playing a tune," Chip murmurs. Karen nods. "In a way, he is," she says. "It's his brain's symphony." The room is bathed in the glow of Plankton's stims, his autism's unique melody. "Dad?" Chip asks tentatively, his voice a whisper. Plankton's head tilts slightly, his antennae still. "Skrink skrink skrink," he repeats. It's like he's in a trance, lost in a world only he understands. Plankton's eye flickers. "It's okay, Plankton," Karen whispers. "You can keep making your sounds." And then it happens. Plankton's voice shifts, echoing Karen's words. "It's okay, Plankton," he murmurs. Chip looks at his mom, his eyes wide. "Is he... is he okay?" Karen nods. "It's his way of processing," she says. "It's called 'echolalia'." Chip nods, his gaze never leaving his father's. "It's when his brain mimics the words he hears to make sense of them," she explains. "It's like when you repeat something until it feels right." Plankton's antennae twitch in time with his echoes. "It's okay, Plankton," he says, his voice a mirror of Karen's soothing tone. Chip smiles. "It's okay, Plankton," he repeats, trying to enforce his dad's calm. But Plankton thinks Chip's making fun of him. His antennae shoot straight up, his eye wide with hurt anger at Chip. "It's not a game, Chip!" Plankton snaps. "It's not something to tck tck... to mock!" Karen sighs, knowing this conversation needs to be handled with care. "Sorry, Dad," Chip says, his voice shaking. "I just... I thought it would he-" "It's not for you to think about!" Plankton cuts him off. Karen puts a hand on Chip's shoulder, her gaze on Plankton. "Chip didn't mean anything by it," she says calmly. "He just wants to understand and connect." She turns to Chip, her screen filled with compassion. "I know it's hard to see Dad like this," she says. "But remember, his autism is part of him, and we need to respect it. He doesn't like it when you mimic his sounds like that." Chip nods, feeling a wave of guilt. "I'm sorry, Dad," he whispers. Plankton's antennae droop slightly, but he doesn't look at Chip. "It's okay," Karen says, her voice soothing. "We're all learning here." Plankton's hand starts to move again, tracing patterns on the blanket. Karen watches. "It's his 'stimming', Chip," she says. "It's his way of self-soothing, and these movements and sounds help him to cope." Chip nods, his eyes still wet. "But why did he get so mad when I do it?" he asks. Karen sighs. "Because it's his own personal language, his way of understanding the world," she explains. "When you address it, he feels like you're invading his space, like you're not taking his feelings seriously. It's something his brain does for himself only." Karen smiles gently. "It's okay, Plankton," she whispers. "Chip's just trying to understand everything. You can keep making your sounds." Chip wants to help, but he doesn't know how. "Just let him be, Chip," Karen says, her voice soothing. Plankton shifts again, his eye teary. "It's okay, Plankton," he murmurs, echoing Karen's words from earlier. Chip clenches. He didn't mean to upset him, seeing his dad's eye welling up with tears. Karen's hand finds Plankton's, squeezing it gently. "It's okay, Plankton," she says. "You don't have to hide it from us." Plankton's tears spill over, tracing a silent river down his cheek. Karen's eyes never leave his. "You don't have to hide, Plankton," she whispers. "We're here for you." Chip watches. He doesn't know what to do, his mind racing. "Mom," he says, his voice shaking, "What can I do?" Karen turns to him, her expression gentle. "Just be here," she says. "Just listen and learn." Plankton's tears stream down. "It's okay, Plankton," he hears his wife say again. The words echo in his mind, a comforting mantra. "It's okay, Plankton," Plankton murmurs, trying to mimic her tone. But it sounds forced, wrong. He swallows hard. "That's right, Plankton," Karen says, smiling. "You're okay. You're safe, Plankton," she repeats. "You're here with us." Chip watches his dad, his heart breaking. "Mom, why is he...?" Karen's eyes are filled with pain. "It's his way of telling us he's okay," she says. "He's using my words because right now, his brain can't find his own." Chip nods, his eyes on his father. Plankton's hand is still moving, tracing the patterns on the blanket. "It's okay, Dad," Chip whispers. Plankton's crying intensifies, his tics becoming more pronounced. "Tck tck tck," he murmurs, his antennae flailing. Karen reaches for him, but he flinches away. "It's okay, Plankton," she says, her voice calm. "We're here." Chip watches, his own screen wet with tears. He's never seen his dad like this before. He feels like an outsider in a conversation he's always been a part of. "You don't have to hide your tears," Karen whispers to Plankton. "We're a family." Plankton's sobs become louder, his tics more pronounced. "Tck tck tck," he says, his body convulsing slightly. Karen's hand is firm but gentle on his back, offering silent support. "It's okay," she murmurs. "Let it out." Chip watches. "Why is he...?" his voice trails off. Karen looks at him, her screen full of love. "It's his way of saying he's overwhelmed, Chip," she whispers. "When he repeats my words, it's his brain trying to find the comfort it needs." Plankton's cries become louder, his tics more erratic. "Tck tck tck," he sobs, his body shaking. Chip feels helpless, his mind racing. He wants to make it stop, but he doesn't know how. "Just be here, buddy," Karen says, her voice calm. "Sometimes, that's all he needs." Plankton's tics morph into full-body shudders, his cries now muffled by the blanket. "It's okay, Plankton," Karen whispers, her hand still rubbing his back. "We're with you." Chip watches as his father's sobs echo in the room, each one a heartbreaking testament to the weight he carries. "You're not alone," he whispers, his voice tiny in the face of Plankton's distress. The words tumble from Plankton's mouth, a mix of Karen's soothing tones and his own raw pain. "It's o-okay, P-Plankton," he repeats, his voice broken. "It's o-okay." Karen's eyes well up too, but she remains steadfast. She's seen this before. "Tck tck tck," Plankton says, his body convulsing with each sob. "You don't have t-to tck tck hide it-t." Karen nods, her thumb brushing away a tear. "It's okay," she whispers. "We love you just as you are." Plankton's sobs turn into hiccups, his antennae twitching. "It's okay, Plankton," he says, his voice mimicking hers. Karen's hand moves in gentle circles on Plankton's back, her eyes never leaving his. "It's okay, Plankton," Karen says. "You're safe here." Plankton's sobs subside slightly. Karen nods. "That's right," she whispers. "Your sounds, your tics, they're part of you." Chip watches. He's never seen his dad so vulnerable. "But... but why?" he asks. Karen takes a deep breath. "His autism, Chip," she says. "It's like his brain has its own language, and when he's overwhelmed, it comes out." Plankton's tics become less erratic, his breathing even. "It's okay, Dad," Chip says, his voice trembling. "You're not alone." Karen smiles sadly. "He knows that, Chip," she says. "But sometimes, his brain just needs to speak its own words." Plankton's eye meets his wife's, the panic receding slightly as Chip watches.

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 5 As they pack the last of their things, Plankton can't help but wonder what the science fair will be like. So many people, so many sounds, so much to process. It's a minefield of overstimulation, but for Chip, he's gonna try. Bags in the trunk, Karen gets in the driver's seat as Plankton and Chip sit in the back together. "You okay, Dad?" Chip asks, his voice gentle. Plankton nods, his antennae still as the car starts with a purr. After leaving the driveway Chip notices his dad's humming to himself, a soft, steady rhythm. Plankton's hands are in his lap, fidgeting slightly as he focuses on the hum. "What are you doing?" Chip asks, his curiosity getting the better of him. Plankton jumps in his seat, antennae shooting up. "I'm... uh...just...thinking?" He's flabbergasted that his son has caught him stimming. He's still trying to process the idea that his son now knows his deepest, most personal secret. Chip's eyes widen. "Thinking?" He repeats. "With a so-" "Chip," Karen interrupts. She knows Plankton's stimming, which he never likes to speak of. Yet she also knew Chip's trying to understand, and decided it's time to explain. "Your dad's humming is a stim," she says gently, keeping her eyes on the road ahead. "It's something some autistic folks do to help manage their sensory input or self-soothe." Chip nods, filing away the new information. "Oh," he says, as Plankton freezes. "So Dad, is that why you sometimes do that spinning thing with your fing--" "Chip!" Plankton snaps, his voice harsher than he intends. So Karen jumps in. "Sweetie," she says, turning in the passenger seat to face her son, "Dad's stims are private. They're like his personal way of taking a deep breath when things get too much. He doesn't do it for anyone else, just for himself. And if he's alright with sharing them with us, that's his choice. But it's important we respect his privacy." Plankton's gaze meets hers in the rearview mirror, gratitude in his eye, hands stilling as Karen continued. "And unless he says so, it's not for us to bring up or comment on them," she explains to Chip. "So your dad hums, or flaps his arms, or rocks his body, even muttering to himself. They're all his ways of stimming, and aren't to be interrupted or discussed unless he initiates it. If he seems distressed, you can ask if he needs anything, but otherwise, just be there for him." Chip nods, his face a picture of concentration. "Ok, Mom," he says. "But could, can I tr-" "NO!" Plankton's voice cuts through the car, sharp and sudden. He turns to face his son, his eye blazing. "I don't want you staring at or making fun of me!" Karen's eyes meet Plankton's in the mirror, filled with a mix of love and frustration. She knew this outburst is rooted in fear and vulnerability. "Chip wasn't trying to, Plankton," she says. Chip shrinks back, his face reddening. "I'm so sorry," he stammers. Plankton's face softens, his antennae drooping. "I know," he murmurs. "It's just...it's hard." Karen nods. "So the science fair is gonna be tomorrow, so the hotel we're going to tonight has reserved the contestants and their families rooms! So the three of us are gonna have to share the hotel room." Plankton's antennae twitch. "And, Dad," Chip says, his voice full of excitement. "It's going to be so cool! There'll be so many science lovers like us!" Plankton nods, trying to mirror his son's enthusiasm, but inside he's panicking. So many people, so many potential triggers. But he can't let Chip see his fear. He takes a deep breath, his hand against his own seat in a stim. "Yea." The car ride is quiet for a while, and Plankton finds himself getting drowsy. He fights the urge to close his eye. He knows if he dozes off, he'd be embarrassed, and he can't let that happen now, not with Chip watching him so closely. He focuses on the scenery passing by, the rhythm of the car's tires on the road, anything to keep himself awake. But it's a losing battle. His eyelid keeps drooping, his brain begging for rest. He starts counting the yellow lines on the road, then switches to red cars, but the monotony of it all just makes him sleepier. His head nods, and he jolts awake with a start, his heart racing for a moment. Chip glances at his father. "You okay, Dad?" Plankton nods, his antennae twitching with the effort to stay awake. "Fine, buddy," he says. But his body feels heavy, like he's sinking into the car seat. He decides to try distraction. "So, tell me more about your science fair schedule," he asks, hoping that his son's excitement will keep him alert. Chip's face lights up. "Well, tomorrow we've got the setup in the morning, then the judging starts right after lunch." He rattles off the various categories and his predictions for each, his voice rising and falling with enthusiasm. Plankton nods along, trying to keep up with the flurry of information. But his eyelid starts drooping again. "And then there's the final round!" Chip says, his voice carrying on despite Plankton's fading attention. "I've got my experiment all set up by myse—" Plankton's snore cuts his son off mid-sentence as his head lolls, his mouth slightly open, to Chip's shoulder. Chip looks at Karen in the front seat, her eyes glancing back at them in the mirror with a knowing smile. "It looks like he's really tired," she says, keeping her voice low. "It's okay to let him sleep." Chip nods, feeling a wave of protectiveness over his father. He chuckles, taking a selfie with Plankton's sleeping face on his phone. He forwards the selfie to Karen's phone. She tries not to giggle. "Oh, Chip," she smiles, "Dad's not gonna take that too kindly when he wakes up."

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 16 Karen sits down next to Chip, pulling him into a hug. "It's going to be ok," she whispers. "And he's proud of you for trying to understand." Plankton's stimming continues, his hand moving in repetitive motions, his gaze fixed on the wall. Karen can feel the tension in his body slowly dissipate. He starts to murmur, his words barely audible. "Did... I do something wrong?" He mumbles as he pulls his knees up to his chest, now rocking back and forth. "Say others don't want me because I'm... dif-fer-ent." The words are like a knife to Chip's heart, but he knows not to interrupt. Plankton's voice cracks. "Why can't they see that I'm more than... I'm not a monster," he whispers, his voice full of pain. Chip's eyes brim with emotion. Karen squeezes Chip's hand as Plankton's mumbling continues, his voice filled with a world of hurt. "I... I just want to be," he says, his hands flapping slightly as he speaks. "But I... I can't." His voice is a jumbled mess of thoughts, but his pain is clear. Chip's heart breaks hearing his dad's self-doubt, his young mind trying to grasp the depth of Plankton's lifelong struggle. He wants to run to him, to tell him he's not different, he's just... unique. But Karen's grip holds him back. "He needs this," she whispers. "To let out his thoughts." Plankton's voice continues to murmur. "I'm not... not... not," he repeats, his voice getting softer with each word. It's as if he's trying to convince his own brain that he's worthy of love and acceptance. Chip watches, his heart in his throat. He's never seen his dad this vulnerable, this broken. It's a stark contrast to the cunning, determined man he knows from their battles against Mr. Krabs. He wants to comfort him, to tell him that he's enough just as he is, but knows he needs to give his dad space, feeling his own tears fall as he listens to his dad's whimpers, filled with self-doubt and fear of being misunderstood. Plankton's body trembles as he continues to rock, his antennae drooping. He's curling into himself, a protective shell against the world that's often too loud, too bright, too much. His voice is a soft whisper, a plea to his own mind. "I'm not a burden," he says, his words almost silent. Chip carefully selects a spinner from the nightstand, his hands trembling slightly. He approaches Plankton, his heart racing. "Dad," he says softly, holding out the toy. "Would you li—" "No!" Plankton yells, his voice sharp. "Don't touch.." Chip freezes. Karen stands up, turning to Chip. "Chip," she says gently, "remember, his space is his when he's like this." Chip nods, his eyes filling with tears as he puts the spinner right back on the nightstand the way as he found it. "But he's hurting," Chip whispers, his voice filled with despair. "I don't want him to—" Karen nods, her eyes reflecting his pain. "I know," she says, her voice soft. "But this is how he deals with it. And we have to respect that. Remember, he's trying to sort through his feelings without getting overwhelmed." Chip sniffs, his hands clutching the bedspread. "But w---" "Chip," Karen says firmly. "Let him be. We're here if he needs us, but this is his process." Chip nods, his eyes still on Plankton. Plankton's whispers turn into a soft, almost inaudible, humming. "Hmmmmm.." Chip's eyes are fixed on his dad, his heart breaking as he watches him from the bed. Plankton's humming increases slightly in volume. Karen sighs. "It's okay," she whispers. "This is your dad's way to calm down. To find his center again." Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's form. He's seen his dad upset before, but never like this. It's a sight that makes him feel so powerless. He wipes away a stray tear. The room is silent except for Plankton's hums. Karen watches her husband with a mix of love and sadness, her hand still clutching Chip's. Plankton's rocking slows down, his hums becoming softer until they're barely a breath. Karen can see the exhaustion in his posture, his shoulders drooping. "It's okay," she whispers. Plankton's eye finally meets Karen's, and she sees the fear in it, the knowledge of his own vulnerability. She nods, her eyes filled with understanding. "Come here," she says, patting the space beside her on the bed. Plankton's antennae twitch, and he looks uncertain. But then, slowly, he unfurls himself, his legs swinging over the side of the bed, his bare feet touching the floor as he goes over to Karen's bed. He sits down, his body still tense. Karen opens her arms, and Plankton collapses into them, his body curling into a ball as he presses into her, his antennae drooping. "It's okay," she whispers, stroking his back. "You're safe." Chip watches, his heart in his throat. He's never seen his dad this way before. So vulnerable, so... clingy. It's strange, but also somehow comforting. Plankton is usually so independent, so strong. But here, in this moment, he's just a scared, overwhelmed person who needs comfort. Plankton scoots closer. "M-my head hurts," he mumbles, his voice still shaky. Karen nods, her eyes filled with sympathy. "I know, love. It's part of the overwhelm. Just let it pass." Chip watches his parents, feeling like an outsider in this intimate moment. He wipes away a tear. Plankton's grip tightens around Karen's. "I'm here," she whispers, rocking him slightly. "It's okay." Chip's eyes are fixed on his dad, his heart breaking for him. He's never seen him so... needy.

🛸 🎠 🐎 | 🎥 🏇 🎥 | 🐎 🎠 🛸

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

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

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

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

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