𝖳𝖮 𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖫𝖣 pt. 12
Sequel to Autism And All by NeuroFabulous
https://emojicombos.com/autism-and-all
Read the Autism And All one first!
Timmy watches him, his
expression a mix of empathy
and curiosity. "Is that
normal?" He asks, his voice
soft. Karen nods. "It's part of
his autism," she says. "And
his seizures. Sometimes
his brain just needs a
moment to recalibrate."
Plankton looks at Timmy, his
eye searching. "Do you...do
you ever feel like that?" He
asks, his voice tentative.
Timmy nods. "Sometimes,"
he admits. "But not like
that. My tics are more...
predictable." He shows them
his hands, which have
started to move again. "It's
like...like a little dance
my brain does."
The room feels a little less
heavy as Plankton's tics
slow, his hand coming to
rest.
"It's okay," Timmy says, his
voice gentle. "We're here."
Plankton nods, his gaze
flitting around the room
before settling on Chip. "I'm
sorry," he says, embarrassed.
"You don't have to apologize,"
Karen says, stroking his arm.
"It's just part of who you
are." But Plankton's eye is
still on Chip, his expression
uncertain. "I don't want
you to be scared of me,"
he says.
Timmy looks from Plankton
to Chip, his eyes thoughtful.
"You know," he says, "I used
to think my tics were
something to hide. Something
wrong with me." He pauses. "But
then I realized, they're just
how my brain works. And
sometimes, they're even
pretty cool." He grins,
his hands moving in a
complex pattern. "Like, if I
flap just right, I can make
things fall over." He laughs,
his eyes sparkling.
Chip can't help but smile at
Timmy's candidness. Plankton,
though, remains silent.
Timmy's words hang in the
air, a gentle reminder that
autism isn't just about
the struggles, but the
unique quirks that make them
who they are. Chip's mind
whirls with the weight of
his dad's apology.
"You don't have to be sorry
for being you," Chip says
finally, his voice shaking.
Plankton looks at him, his
expression unreadable.
"But I don't want you to be
afraid," he says. "I don't want
you to think I'm a monster."
Timmy's smile fades. "You're
not," he says firmly. "You're
my friend's dad. And you're
a person, just like me."
Karen nods, her screen shiny with
unshed tears. "He's right,
Plankton," she says. "You're
more than just your autism."
But Plankton's gaze remains
fixed on Chip. "I just want
you to understand," he says.
"I'm not like everyone else."
Chip swallows hard, his
throat tight. "I do," he whispers.
"I see you." Timmy then shifts.
"I've to go, but I'll see you at
school, Chip!"
Timmy leaves, and Chip
moves closer to his dad.
"Dad," he says, his voice
quiet. "I'm not afraid of you. I'm
afraid f-for you." Plankton's
eye blinks, his hand stopping
momentarily. "You don't have
to hide from me," Chip
continues. "Your tics, your
stims, your seizures...they're
just part of who you are."
The next day, Timmy goes
to the Krusty Krab to get
himself a Krabby Patty.
Mr. Krabs, the owner
of the Krusty Krab
restaurant, sees Timmy
waving his hands.
Mr. Krabs, a burly red
crab known for his love
for money and quick temper,
doesn't understand
Timmy's behavior. "What's
the ruckus for?" He barks.
Timmy's eyes dart around,
his hands flapping faster.
"I-I-I'm just...just..."
He stammers, his words
tangling in his mouth.
Mr. Krabs raises an eyebrow.
"Ye okay, kid?" He asks,
his tone gruff but
concerned.
Timmy nods, his hands
still moving. "I'm just
excited," he says, his voice
quick. "I-I-I like Krabby
Patties."
Mr. Krabs' expression
shifts. "What's wi-"
"I have autism," Timmy says,
his voice clear. "It makes
me flap and talk fast
when I'm excited."
Mr. Krabs looks confused, his
claws paused mid-air. "A-
uh...what's that?" He asks,
his usual gruffness
replaced by curiosity.
Timmy takes a deep breath.
"It's like my brain works
different," he explains. "Some
things are hard for me, but I
see things others might miss.
It's a type of...neuro-diversity.
My grandma has it as well, and
they think I've inherited it. It
can manifest in different ways,
being why it's called Autistic
Spectrum. I've always been
this way! There's no 'cure' but
I'm proud of who I am. Autism
is classified as a disability,
yet it's also a gift, really. And
sorry for rambling on, sir.."
Mr. Krabs nods thoughtfully.
"So, what exactly is the autism
spectrum? And what type of
disability is it?" He asks Timmy.
Timmy smiles, happy to
explain. "The autism spectrum
is like a rainbow of brains," he
says. "Some people are at one
end and others are at the
other, and everyone's
different. It's like we're all
unique snowflakes, but with
brains instead of snow." He
pauses, then continues. "It means
we process things differently.
Some of us have challenges
with social interactions or sensory
overload.."
Mr. Krabs nods slowly, his
claws still. "So, it's like,
sometimes you see a Krabby
Patty and it's just so good
you can't help but wave your
hands?" He asks, his eyes
twinkling with the beginnings
of understanding.
Timmy laughs, his hands
stopping for a moment. "Sort
of," he says. "But it's more than
just being happy. Sometimes
it's hard to communicate or
deal with too much noise or
touch." Mr. Krabs looks concerned.
"What do ye mean?"
Timmy takes a deep breath,
his hands starting to flap again.
"Well, if it's too loud or too
bright, or if someone touches
me in a way that feels weird,
my brain gets overwhelmed.
It's like my brain is a computer
and it's trying to run too
many programs at once. It
can be really tough."
Mr. Krabs' expression softens.
"I had no idea," he says.
"But you're still a good kid."
Timmy nods, his smile
genuine. "And it's okay to
ask questions," he adds. "That's
how we learn. And as for
communicating, it can be hard
for an autistic person to find
the right words, but it doesn't
mean we don't have
anything important to say. But
misunderstandings can happen
because of it. And the big emotions
can come out in ways that seem
unexpected. So my flapping is a
way to communicate my joy. And
it's important to let us express
ourselves without judgment."
Mr. Krabs looks down at his
claws, realizing their potential
for harm. "I'm sorry if I
made ye uncomfortable, Timmy,"
he says, his voice low. "I didn't
mean to. I just...I don't think I've
ever really talked to someone
with autism before."
Timmy's hands still. "It's okay,"
he says. "Lots of people don't
know what it's like. That's why
it's important to tell them. And it
can be hard to tell, because
everyone's experience is so
different."
Mr. Krabs nods, his eyes
thoughtful. "I see," he says. "So,
what can I do to make your
dining experience here today
more comfortable? I want
to make sure you're happy."
Timmy's smile grows. "Well,
thank you, Mr. Krabs," he says.
"Could I maybe sit in a quieter
corner?" He suggests. "And
maybe I could have my Krabby
Patty without the pickles?"
Mr. Krabs' eyes widen. "Of
course, Timmy," he says, snapping
his claws. "I'll get that
taken care of right away." He
turns to his staff. "Ye heard
the boy!" He barks. "Give Timmy
a VIP seat and get him
his Krabby Patty, no pickles,
and make it snappy!"
The employees jump into
action, and within moments,
Timmy is seated in a quiet
corner of the restaurant,
his Krabby Patty steaming on
the table in front of him. Mr.
Krabs sits down opposite him.
"So, tell me more about this
autism thing," he says, his eyes
genuinely curious. "How does
it affect folks?"
Timmy takes a bite of his
sandwich, savoring the taste.
"Well," he says thoughtfully,
his chewing slowing down. "It's
like we see the world through
a different lens. Some of us
have super senses—like I can
hear the fryer sizzling from
across the room, and noise can
hurt my ears—but others might
not notice at all."
Mr. Krabs leans in with
interest. "And what about
stimming?" He asks. "Is that
what you call it when you
wave your hands around?"
Timmy nods, swallowing his
food. "Yes," he says. "Stimming is
self-stimulating behavior. It helps
us focus and deal with the
sensory input. Like, when I'm
excited about something, I
flap. That's just my own
way of stimming. But not all
autistic people do."
Mr. Krabs nods, his claw
tapping the table. "And what
about social stuff?" He asks.
Timmy thinks for a moment.
"Some of us find it hard to
read social cues," he says.
"It's like everyone's playing a
game of charades, and we
don't know the rules. And some
people might not like to be
touched, or they might not
understand jokes right away.
But that doesn't mean we don't
have feelings or want to be
friends."
Mr. Krabs considers this, his
eyes thoughtful. "So, it's like
each one of ye has a secret
handshake, but it's not really
a handshake at all?"
Timmy grins. "Exactly!" He
says. "Everyone's got their
own way of saying hello. And
it's okay if we don't always get
it right. What's important is
trying to understand each
other."
Mr. Krabs nods slowly. "I
see," he says. "I wanna
make sure that everyone
who comes here feels
welcome. I mean, all the autistic
folks." Timmy's eyes lit up. "Thank
you," he says. "That means a
lot!"