𝖳𝖮 𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖫𝖣 pt. 1
Sequel to Autism And All by NeuroFabulous
https://emojicombos.com/autism-and-all
Read the Autism And All one first!
In the aftermath of
Plankton's science
fair episode, Chip
didn't want his dad
to go through that again,
so he decided it was
time for a change. He
approached his mom
with the idea of switching
schools. Karen
listened, her eyes filled with
empathy, and nodded. "You
know, sweetie, sometimes
change can be good. We'll
look into it."
The next day, Chip
accompanied his parents to
Hanna's house. Hanna,
with her infectious
energy, was eager to
help. Chip couldn't
help but overhear their
conversation. "So, Karen,
what's really going on
with Plankton?"
Karen took a deep breath
and began to explain.
"Well, Hanna, Plankton's
autistic. It's like his brain
works differently. He has
these things called 'stims'
that help him focus and
stay calm, especially when
he's overwhelmed."
Hanna's eyes widened with
understanding. "Oh, like when
he was sick aft-"
Karen gently cut her off. "Yes,
it was related. It's all
a part of his condition. But
it's more than just that.
His mind works in ways
that we can't always
understand. Sometimes it's
like he's in his own little
world, but it's a brilliant one."
Plankton was swinging his
legs as he sat by Karen, feeling
awkward. He knew
his brain was different, but
he didn't like it being talked
about outside of Karen.
Hanna leaned in, curiosity
piqued. "What do you mean,
'brilliant'?"
"Well, you know how he can
recall every single detail of
his Krabby Patty recipe?"
Karen said with a smile.
"Or how he can fix anything
in the restaurant with just a
quick look? That's his autism
at work. It's like he has
these special powers, but
sometimes it can be too
much for him to handle."
Chip watched Hanna nod,
absorbing the information.
He felt a mix of pride and
protectiveness for his dad.
"But what about the bad
parts?" Hanna asked, her voice
softening. "How do you deal
with the... the tantrum..."
The moment the word slipped
out, Plankton's legs stopped
swinging. His eye darted to
Hanna, a flicker of anger
crossing his face. Karen knew
that look. Plankton didn't
like the term "tantrum." It
was a sore spot, something
that made him feel less than.
With a sigh, she turned to
Hanna, placing a gentle hand
on her friend's arm. "Let's call
it a 'meltdown', okay?"
"M-Meltdown?" Hanna stuttered,
her cheery demeanor dimming.
"It's a tantrum, right?"
Plankton's eye narrowed, and
his grip on his chair tightened.
"It's not a tantrum, Hanna,"
Plankton spoke through gritted
teeth, his voice low and firm.
"It's a meltdown. There's
a difference, you know‽"
Hanna looked surprised, then
embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Plankton.
I didn't mean to-"
But Plankton was beyond apologies.
He shot up from his chair, his
tiny fists balled at his sides. "You
think I throw tantrums? That I'm a
child who can't control himself?"
The room grew tense as his voice
escalated, his body trembling with
frustration. "I'm not like that. I'm not
a toddler!"
Hanna took a step back, her hands
up in a gesture of peace. "Plankton,
I didn't mean-"
But he was beyond words, his
autistic brain flooded with sensory
overload from the misunderstanding.
Karen could see the panic in his eye,
his body poised for fight or flight.
Her heart ached for him, for the way
the world often didn't understand.
Chip stepped in, trying to diffuse
the situation. "Dad, it's okay. Ms. Hanna
just didn't know the right word."
Karen moved swiftly to Plankton's
side, her voice calm and soothing.
"Honey, I know you're upset. Let's
go to a quiet spot." She guided
him to the corner of Hanna's kitchen.
Hanna, eyes wide, looked at Karen
for guidance. "I didn't mean to-"
she started, but Karen held up a
hand, cutting her off gently. "It's
okay, Hanna. It's just a
misunderstanding."
In the quiet corner, Karen
knelt beside him. "You're
right, Plankton. It's not fair.
But remember, she didn't know."
Plankton's eye darted
back to Hanna, who was now
silent, watching them with a
mixture of shock and guilt. Chip
stood there, torn between his
dad's fury and Hanna's ignorance.
Hanna's cheery persona
was gone, replaced by a look of
genuine concern. She approached
them cautiously. "I'm really
sorry, Plankton. I didn't mean to
upset you." Her eyes searched
his for forgiveness.
Plankton's chest heaved with
anger, but he felt a twinge of
compassion for her ignorance. He
knew she didn't understand,
but it didn't change the hurt
she had caused.
Karen's hand was warm and
steadying on his shoulder. "Let's
talk about this," she said softly.
"You know Hanna didn't mean it
that way."
Plankton's breath was ragged
as he tried to compose himself.
He knew Karen was right, but the
word had stung, bringing back
memories of past judgments and
misunderstandings. "I know," he
managed to murmur, his voice
strained. Hanna took another
tentative step forward.
"I'm here to learn, Plankton,"
she said with sincerity. "Tell me
what I should kno—"
But Plankton was already retreating
into his own world, his eye
glazed over as he tried to
process the conversation. Karen
stood up, her eyes never leaving
his. "Why don't we give him a
moment, Hanna?" She sat
beside Plankton, who was now
rocking back and forth.
Hanna nodded, looking at them
with a mix of confusion and
remorse. "I didn't know," she
whispered. "I just didn't know."
In the quiet corner, Karen
wrapped her arm around
Plankton, holding him close.
"It's ok," she repeated. "You're
right, honey. It's not the same."
Hanna leads them all
to the couches in her
living room. Plankton
eased himself on a
sofa opposite Hanna.
He rocks back and
forth in stimming. "Tantrum,
tantrum, not a tantrum.
Meltdown. Meltdown," he
murmurs to himself.
Plankton's voice grew softer.
"Tantrum, no. Meltdown.
Meltdown," he murmured,
his eye unfocused. The
stimming was a familiar
sight by now, a comforting
self-soothing technique that
his brain needed in moments
of stress. Hanna sat down
beside him, mimicking the
rocking motion in what she
thought of was a silent
offer of support.
Plankton's gaze snapped
to Hanna, his expression
sharp. "What are you doing?"
he demanded. The suddenness
of his voice startled Hanna.
"Just trying to help," she
stuttered, unsure of herself.
"Don't," he said firmly, his
face flushing. "Don't mimic me."
Karen stepped in, placing
a hand on Hanna's shoulder.
"It's ok," she assured her.
"It can be uncomfortable when
people do that. It's best to let
him do his thing."
Hanna nodded, her screen
full of regret. "I'm sorry," she
managed, looking at Plankton.
But Plankton was already
lost in a loop of words, echoing
his own thoughts. "This isn't
right, not right, not right," he
whispered to himself.
Hanna looks up, confused.
"What isn't right, Plank-"
"Don't talk to me," Plankton
interrupted, his voice
sharp.
Karen took a seat next to Hanna,
her hand resting gently on her
knee. "Hanna, you see, stims are
like Plankton's personal language.
They're private, like someone's
thoughts. It's how he speaks to
his brain, how he tells it 'I'm safe,
I'm okay'. It's not for us to join
unless he asks us to."
Hanna nodded slowly. "So, when I
tried to... help him by doing
what he does, it was like I was..."
"Intruding. It's like if
someone tried to finish your
sentences or read your thoughts,"
Karen elaborated, her gaze
softening as she watched Plankton.
"It's his way of saying, 'This is
how I process the world, and
I need this space to do so.'"
Hanna nodded, her screen
reflecting the newfound
knowledge. "I never thought
of it that way," she murmured.
"I just wanted to help."
"I know you did," Karen
smiled gently, patting her hand.
"But sometimes, the best way to
help is to give space. For him,
stims are just as personal as
a diary entry. They're his way
of communicating to himself."
Plankton's rocking grew
softer, less frantic.
Karen knew the signs of his
brain starting to settle down.
He was beginning to come
back to them, but she didn't
want to push it.