Chapter Text
Fundy doesn't like a lot of things. He's always been picky that way.
Fundy's selective and he fixates on things and needs things done in a certain way with a certain pattern. He’s bad with change and he adapts slowly. He's finicky like that, and he refuses to let people tell him that's a bad thing.
Fundy needs things done a certain way. It’s not an egotistical thing or a spoiled brat thing- merely his own form of brain sequencing demanding pattern and familiarity. Unfortunately, quite a few things don’t meet his needs for being done in a specific way.
Most things actually fail to meet his needs.
Thus, he’s not a fan of most things.
But the one thing Fundy has consistently been a fan of is his family, no matter how much they shift and change.
And what a weird family he has. None of them aren’t related- with the exception of him to his father- and not all of them are legally attached. (In the case of Fundy's Ancle Ranboo). They're a mismatch hodge podge group of fuck ups and that works for them.
It doesn't work for a lot of people.
It's always on Mother’s Day he gets into the majority of these fights.
Like most things, Fundy doesn’t like Mother’s Day.
"I don't have a mom," he patiently explains to his teacher, like he does for each one every year.
Her smile drops for just a moment, before she palasters a new one on. It looks like plastic, fake and fabricated. It looks like when Fundy's told to smile in photos.
"That's okay!" she insists, "like I said, the Mother's Day brunch is for moms and other wonderful girls in your life to participate in."
Fundy did notice that. He's started to notice that his school is doing better at making sure Mother's Day is inclusive to all those with women in their lives, whether they be moms or not.
"But I don't have any girls in my life," Fundy complains, "not any important ones."
"None?" She presses, so Fundy refects. He already had reflected before even approaching his teacher, but he does so again.
"I mean there's my Ancle’s sister and my Uncle's old therapist- those are different people- they’re both women."
He would like for there to be more women in his life because it's probably not a good idea to only be around men, that's a whole half of the population missing!
But then again, Fundy is around women, just none of them are his relatives, and there's not much he can really do about that. It’s not like it’s his fault his mom decided she wasn’t ready for a kid.
His teacher blinks at him.
"Don't you- you said your uncle's sister? Wouldn't that be your aunt?"
"I said my ancle, not my uncle's," Fundy corrects, "Ancle Ranboo is nonbinary, so he isn't a girl. And anyways, Niki isn't my aunt. My Ancle Ranboo was fostered by my grandfather for a little bit until his sister could get kinship over him. So she's cool and all and I like her, but she's not my auntie, y'know?"
His teacher apparently does not know if how she tilts her head and blinks at him is anything to go by.
"Well," she says, "you don't have to bring Niki, but if your Ancle’s a girl, you can bring her."
"No," Fundy says, "Ancle Ranboo isn't a girl either. Like I said, they're nonbinary."
"Oh," his teacher chuckles. Fundy frowns, because it isn't funny! There isn't anything funny about misgendering.
But also Fundy's not sure that's even what his teacher’s laughing at. She seems to be laughing as more of a filler that at anything but Fundy doesn't know why she would do that
Neurotypical people are weird. Why don't they just behave in ways that make sense?
And people say neurodivergent ones are the ones with poor social skills, even though his teacher is laughing at misgendering. Okay then.
"Oh, well I think that's okay sh- h- they can still come."
Fundy frowns once again because now this has become even more confusing! If they were allowing people who weren't girls, why hadn't she just said so?
"Well if Ranboo can come then can't my dad come?"
"Well," she hedges, "it's supposed to be for girls."
"But Ranboo’s not a girl."
Really, how does she not get that?
"Right," she says, "but he's not a boy either, so that's okay."
At least she seems to be getting the nonbinary thing.
"But my dad isn't a boy either- at least not completely," Fundy says, "if Ranboo can come because he's nonbinary- and therefore not a boy, then shouldn't my dad be able to come because he's not like a cis, binary, boy? And I think I'd rather have my dad than my Ancle. Ranboo's really cool and stuff but it makes more sense for my dad to come. Plus he likes pancakes and it's a pancake lunch. Ancle Ranboo doesn't like the texture of syrup so it works better if my dad comes anyways."
"Not- not a cis, binary, boy?"
"Mhmm," Fundy said, "cause he's intersex and transmasculine."
"What was that honey?"
Fundy hums, unimpressed.
"That means his sex isn't male or female and his gender isn't either, but he leans towards more masculine identities even though he was raised female by societal standards and stuff."
"Oh," she says, "your dad is a trans man?"
"Kinda," Fundy says, "like I'm trans and my dad's trans but we're different trans cause I'm a binary boy and he doesn't completely identify as a boy and he's intersex."
His teacher blinks more.
And really why is Fundy teaching her all of this, shouldn't she know this? She's supposed to be the teacher after all!
"My dad's got a uterus which I came out of but he's also got a penis and weird hormone levels and other medical stuff," Fundy explains, "now can he come to the Mother's Day brunch or not?"
His teacher ends up saying yes, but she comments that Fundy could have just asked if his dad could come instead of searching for a loophole.
Out of the entire conversation, those are the words that make Fundy the most frustrated and want to cry.
But he refuses to give his teacher the satisfaction of his tears, instead taking a deep breath and trying to regulate the shaking of his chest and the sharpness behind his eyes.
He knows why he's upset.
He's upset because she's assuming Fundy's being defiant, pushing boundaries when really all Fundy was trying to do was get genuine clarification.
He wasn't looking for a loophole! He was doing his best to understand her weird rules and conform within them and that they didn’t make sense to him but he was trying for her because she made the rule and he wanted to be respectful.
He wants to tell her that, to defend himself. Because his dad and his family have taught him that he's allowed to stand up for himself, that he's allowed to expect professionals to treat him with respect and kindness.
Fundy knows what he would say. He'd explain to her his own thought process and then explain why what she had said made him upset and then ask if they can come up with a solution together.
Fundy would propose that his teacher not make assumptions about him and instead just ask him outright because Fundy is bad at subtext.
Fundy knows what he wants to say.
The problem is that he can't.
He physically can't. His mouth goes dry and numb and he opens his mouth but doesn't have the energy to form the words and-
And Fundy has gone nonverbal.
When his dad picks him up that day, he's still completely silent.
It happens sometimes, when he goes nonverbal like this, and it's been happening more and more the longer he's been at school.
School takes so much of his energy, so many spoons, so much strength that Fundy doesn’t have any space leftover for words.
The worst part- the worst part is that he wants to talk and he has no way of doing that.
So he lets out a soft whine and hits the side of his door.
His dad looks over, raises an eyebrow.
"What's up?" He asks.
Fundy grimes and wacks the door again. He’s not doing it too hard and he’s being careful with the car, so his dad lets him instead of redirecting the stim.
"Nonverbal again?" Wilbur guesses.
Fundy nods miserably.
Wilbur sighs.
"Okay kiddo."
Fundy looks down at the words, feeling bad. He- he would talk if he could! He just can't. He doesn’t want his dad to be upset with him over this.
"Oh hey, no, Fundy, sorry that came out wrong," his dad promises, "I'm not upset with you."
Fundy picks his head up and focuses on his father. He doesn’t meet his gaze, instead looking forward, but he tilts his head and waits for his father’s words.
"I am upset," Wilbur admits, "but not with you. I'm upset because you're frustrated and obviously want to communicate but can't. And that frustrates me. It frustrates me that you're frustrated, and it frustrates me that I don’t know how to help you. It all just kind of sucks- yeah?"
Fundy blinks, and nods. It makes him frustrated too.
But it's too hard to try and express that when he's nonverbal like this so he sucks it up and stares off into space.
When he finally feels like he can talk again, he searches for his dad.
He finds him in the living room, curled up on the couch, phone in hand.
"Whatcha doing?" he asks, springing forward onto the back of the couch.
Wilbur jumps, almost dropping his phone.
"Be careful," Wilbur chides, "and please don't climb on the couch. You could break it. Go climb a tree or something if you need to burn off some energy."
"Sorry," Fundy says, dropping from the couch. His fox ears almost fall off and he quickly readjusts them on his head. "Whatcha doing?"
"Texting your Uncle Techno."
Fundy perks you significantly and makes grabby hands for the phone.
His dad raises an eyebrow at him, but passes it over anyway.
Fundy takes it in his own hands and goes to Techno’s contact, pressing the phone symbol that comes with it.
He pulls it back to observe the screen and watches how it begins to ring. Fundy presses the button for the speaker and holds out the phone.
His dad just watches him from the side.
"Wil?" Techno says from the other end.
"Yup, mhmm, my name's Wil," Fundy says, "very adult person right here."
Techno chuckles.
"Hi, Fundy, how are you kid? Does your dad know you have his phone?"
"I'm okay. School was weird," Fundy says at the same time his dad comments, "Teah Tech, I'm here too."
"How was school weird?" Techno asks.
"Oh my," Fundy says, "Uncle Tech- allistic people are so strange. I don't get them at all."
Techno snorts from the other side of the phone and his dad shoots Fundy an odd glance.
"Fundy, did something happen at school? Besides going nonverbal?" Wilbur asks.
Fundy blinks and then looks at his phone.
He loves his dad, he does, but his dad doesn't get everything. This is an Uncle Techno conversation.
"Is- is it okay if Uncle Techno and me talk?" Fundy asks, "just us?"
Wilbur’s face softens. Fundy recognizes the look, it's the same one his face has right after he's tucked Fundy in for the night.
"Course bud," Wilbur agrees, "Do you want to stay here in the living room, or would you like to go to your room, or maybe somewhere else."
Fundy considers his options.
"Imma take Uncle Techno to my room," he announces, and then marches out of the room and to his own.
When he's made his way back to his room, he shuts his door softly, and turns his attention back to the phone.
“Uncle Techno, why do allistic people make rules that were supposed to break?"
Techno hums. Fundy likes the sound of it, and repeats it back.
"What do you mean?" he asks, "Can you tell me a bit about what happened?"
Fundy sighs, and nods even though his uncle can't see him.
"Yeah," he says, "it's- it's about Mother's Day. It's the same thing every year, y'know? My teacher said moms or other 'important girls' could come, so I told her I didn't know who I should bring. We talked about it and she said anyone who wasn't a boy was okay and I said that dad could come cause he isn't completely a boy and my teacher was a bit upset but she said yeah and so I was still following the rules, yeah?
"I see," Techno says, "I'm following."
Fundy nods at the confirmation.
"Okay. Cool. But then later when talking to her she said I could have just asked if my dad could come and I didn't have to keep pushing the rules. And that doesn't make sense to me because I didn't know my dad could come, because she said it was only girls. And Dad isn't a girl either.
"But she didn't even seem to care about that! She didn't seem to care about her own rules! Instead she said it wasn't a big deal anyway. And I- I don't get that. Because it's a rule but it's one that it's okay to break and she'd rather just have me break it then ask for clarification on the rules and I- I don't get it all."
He's still really confused by it all. Why would she make a rule if she wasn’t willing to clarify it. Why should make a rule if she was willing to bend it? And why was Fundy getting in trouble for following the rule she had laid out?
Techno’s quiet on the other side of the line.
"Uncle Tech?" Fundy asks when the silence stretches.
"Yeah, I'm still here," he says, "I'm just thinking about how to explain. And if I understand."
"Oh okay," Fundy says, and he waits.
"I think," Techno said eventually, "I think your teacher thinks your dad is a guy, and he fits her definition of 100% man. And I- I think she thought that you were trying to find an excuse for your dad to come instead of just asking for him to come. And she felt that you were disrespectful because you were trying to find a loophole when you could have just politely asked for your dad to come."
Fundy blinks, and he relaxes and he tries to make sense of what his Uncle says, he does, but so much of it just doesn't make sense.
He wasn't trying to be disrespectful! He was just trying to get clarification on the rules!
The clarifications his teacher gave him made him realize his dad was allowed to come which is why he asked. Fundy was just trying to follow the rules because that's what allistic people always seemed to like.
Fundy always got in trouble if he broke the rules so he tried to follow them but then he was seen as rude and he doesn't get it and-
And talking is getting a lot harder. His mouth is getting dry even though it’s not really dry and it feels like a cave except Fundy’s never really been in any caves before.
"I don't think I like talking," Fundy admits.
"What do you mean?"
"Talking’s dumb!" Fundy insists, "people never seem to get me and it's really hard and I'm so sick of trying and nobody listening and I don't want to talk anymore!"
Techno hums, long and firm, and Fundy finds himself mimicking it.
"Do you mean you don't like verbally speaking, or you don't like communicating at all?"
Fundy considers it.
"Speaking," he decides, "people never get what I mean and I don't get what others mean and a lot of the times it's just so hard and I- I wanted to explain to the teacher what I just explained to you but she said her things and that made me lose my spoken words and then I couldn't say anything else. And then I went nonverbal again and I hate when that happens because I have all these words in me but I can't tell them to anyone and it just keeps happening."
"If you had another way to communicate in that moment, do you think you would have liked that? Would that be something that helped?" Techno asks.
Fundy frowns.
"Like what?" he asks.
"Well," Techno says, "this is actually what your dad and I were talking about earlier. Did you know that I barely talked as a kid at all? A lot of days I didn't say anything at all."
Fundy blinks.
"Dad's mentioned it," he admits, "he said it was mostly before he lived with you though. And that he was looking into ways a bit like that for me maybe."
"I used a tablet," Techno explains, "and some sign language, and various sounds and noises. It's called AAC. Augmentative and alternative communication. And it lets you talk without speaking."
Something in Fundy clicks.
"And you- you think I could do that?"
"Absolutely,” Techno confirms, "yes, yes you can. Anyone can, that's the idea, it's adapted to the user. It helps a lot of people that can't communicate through spoken language."
"But I can," Fundy argues, "I can talk."
"I know you can," Techno says, "and it's your choice. But AAC devices can help people who can speak too. Just because you can speak doesn't mean it's easier or it's better. If you think it would help you explain things better or that you would be more comfortable talking that way, then maybe it's something that could help. If AAC could make it easier, make communication more smooth for you, then it does its job."
Oh.
That sounds- that sounds really nice.
Because Fundy can talk and sometimes he really likes it.
Or- or he thinks he does but now that he thinks about it it's communicating and being listened to that he looks, not necessarily speaking.
Because speaking is hard and feels odd in his mouth and grates on his tongue and his mouth is moist and slaps together and Fundy hates the sound of his own voice in his skull and-
And Uncle Techo is telling him there's a way for Fundy to get all the positives of speaking without any of the negatives.
"Um," he says, "Uncle Tech, how do I get an AAC?"
Fundy's first tablet is a sleek b/ack and has five different AAC apps trials.
One is an instant no due to the font. Fundy has enough time reading as is, and the app just makes it harder. He completely skims and misses words and it’s useless.
The second and third are alright but their customization is limited and he doesn't like how the categories sort. They predict his languages which has some pros, but then it messes up the categories he's carefully selected and he doesn't know where to find anything.
The fourth and fifth are great. They're easy to customize and have the best categories. The fourth is his favorite- it’s very adjustable and the pictures aren't babyish- because hey, he's a whole nine years old now! He isn't a baby! Plus, if he prefers he can even replace the graphics with photos. And there’s so many options to add words, so Fundy can add all of his fox facts.
It's the fourth he ends up sticking with long-term, because its dual function between preset buttons and manual typing is the smoothest. It also has better voice options and customizations.
Through his tablet, Fundy finds his voice.
He finds a voice he never realized he had, a voice he never realized he possessed.
He spoke fine as a little kid but growing up he began to lose his spoken voice more and more and- and sometimes he still talks like a little kid because that's all he could verbally say.
Now at nine years old, he often feels like he has less words than when he was three.
Even though he had all this other vocabulary in his head, he could never use it, because talking just took too much effort.
but with his tablet he speaks better, he speaks like himself
He doesn't use it always, doesn't always need it, but as he grows and gets used to it, he uses it more and more, interchangeably for what works for him best.
Sometimes, Fundy even begins to think that he shouldn't be using it because he can talk out loud, he can. But talking with his tablet is so much easier and the world comes much more smoothly and it's a better form of expression than he's ever had before.
So the part of Fundy that expects himself to talk is beaten by the part of Fundy who refuses to let his own internalized ableism win.
Slowly, everyone gets used to it, and Fundy finds himself the happiest he's been in a while.
Unfortunately, not everyone shares that sentiment, and when he gets picked up from school one day three years into his AAC, his papa is with his dad in the car.
"Hey Fundy," his dad says, "I have to talk to your teacher. Papa can take you home first and come back later for me, or you two can wait for me. Okay?"
Fundy frowns and forms his next sentence on his tablet.
"Why do you have to talk to my teacher?"
Wilbur gives a weak smile.
"I don't know all the details," he admits, "but she said she needs to talk about things with me. Hopefully it won't be too long. If it's going to take a while, I'll text Papa, okay?"
Fundy nods and tries to hide the fear that pulls the corner of his mouth down into a frown. One of his hands reach up, and he pets the soft fur of the fox ears that are on his head, the comforting felt familiar and grounding.
His dad gives him a firm nod, and a smile, before turning back to his papa.
"You got him Dad?" Wilbur confirms.
"All good," Phil promises.
Wilbur nods once more, as pulls away from the car, fighting the dwindling crowd to get back into the school Fundy had just exited.
Fundy frowns more.
Papa catches sight of it in the rearview mirror.
"Hey Fundy," Papa says, "you doing alright?"
Fundy shrugs and bounces his feet, not sure why he's suddenly feeling so overwhelmed.
His papa waits patiently, turning back to his own thing, keeping a careful eye on didn't in the parked car.
"Dad said we could stay, right?"
"Yeah," Phil says, "if that's what you want to do."
"Yes," Fundy presses. "Yes," he says again.
Phil smiles and nods.
Fundy's so glad to have his tablet in that moment, because he definitely couldn't talk at all right now. But with his tablet he can explain his thoughts and feelings, express concepts and ideas and communicate his needs.
He pulls the device close to his chest, and the combined pressure of the tablet as well as the comfort of the object had him relaxing a little bit.
Fundy waits for his dad.
He waits longer than he thought they would, but Fundy thinks it's definitely worth staying.
Especially because when his dad gets back, Fundy gets the full reaction.
He gets to watch how his dad exits the office with harsh steps and fists that are tight and taught. He gets to see how his dad gets outside, sees the car, and takes a deep breath, doing his best to relax. Fundy sees how he straightens up, and bags under his eyes seem to magically appear.
His dad makes the rest of the way to the car, and slides in.
"What happened?" Fundy asks instantly. He had the question prepared already, ready to go the minute his dad could hear.
Wilbur turns around to look at Fundy.
He studies Fundy for a moment, giving a slight nod.
"Your teachers called me in to talk about you. They said they were worried about you and your learning," Wilbur explains, "but their worries weren't actual worries, just ableist mindsets, so we're going to ignore what they said."
"What did they say?" Fundy asks in return.
Wilbur looks at him for a bit longer.
"Is it okay if we have this conversation at home?" he asks, "I want to be honest with you, but the entire situation is a little emotional and again- focuses on ableism. I'd rather have that talk with you at home instead of a car."
Fundy nods, because that's a fair point.
That doesn't mean he likes it.
But Wilbur is true to his word and when they get home, they sit together in the living room for the talk.
Fundy grabs his fox and holds it close to his body in comfort. His fox ears are already on his head and they add another layer of protection.
"Your teachers are worried about your tablet usage," Wilbur admits, "they see you using your tablet as a regression of your verbal abilities and think that it's detrimental for your development long term. They said it was okay for a bit, but now that it’s been three years, they want to push you to begin speaking verbally over using your tablet."
Fundy frowns. Fingers flying, he formulates his response.
"But," he argues, "I’m more well spoken with my tablet. I’m able to construct more sentences and speak my mind. My tablet gives me back my voice. It does not take away my voice. Spoken words are not better for me. They are harder and my tablet gives me freedom."
"I know," Wilbur soothes, "I know and I'm so glad you have found your voice this way. Your teachers are wrong. But that's what they believe, and I doubt I can change their mind."
Fundy frowns, because that's not ideal.
His father sighs.
"Fundy," he continues, "the decision is yours, of course, but do you have any interest in maybe looking for a school that can better meet your needs and accommodate you, instead of expecting you to conform to ableist standards?"
Fundy's immediate thought is no, because going to a different school means changing schools and changing schools means change and Fundy does not like change.
There's a lot of things Fundy doesn't like, but change has to be top of the list.
He freezes, eyes widening at even the idea of changing something that's so integral to his routine.
His immediate response is no.
But in his moments of being frozen, he has time to reflect and realizes that every other part of him is screaming yes, screaming for him to get his needs met, to not have to fight for the right to exist as he is at school.
Carefully, he selects a word on his tablet, trying to stop his fingers from shaking.
"Yes," he decides firmly, "Yes I would like that."
Fundy voices his opinion and his father listens.
Fundy ends up switching schools and the one he settles on isn't perfect, but it's so much better and he finally can be fully mainstreamed but still receive adequate support.
He makes friends with the other autistic kids but also makes friends with some of his neurotypical peers and starts to find his place.
It isn’t perfect but it’s better and it's an experience Fundy can tailor to himself, and he’s always thrived when he has control.
Fundy doesn’t like a lot of things, but he thinks he can handle liking this.