𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 22
(𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌)
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ
ᴡᴀʏ 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 science fair is a cacophony
of noise and color. Each
project vying for attention,
each child eager to show off
their hard work. Chip's
screen lights up with excitement.
Plankton's antennae twitch
nervously. The sensory overload
threatens to swamp him, but he
firmly holds onto Karen's hand.
"Karen?" Karen turns and
sees her friend Hanna. "Oh
Hanna!" She exclaims.
Hanna's eyes widen at
the sight of Plankton. "Is
this your family?" Karen nods.
"We're here for our son Chip."
Hanna's smile is warm, but
Plankton's antennae bristle,
his body stiff with tension.
He's not used to socializing,
especially not in a place like
this, with its unpredictability.
"Hi, I'm Karen's friend," Hanna says.
Plankton flinches, his antennae
waving frantically. "The name's
Hanna. You must be Karen's
husband, Plankton.." Hanna exclaims
as she puts her hands on his shoulders.
Plankton's body goes rigid.
He's not used to touch, not like
this. The pressure sends a shock
wave through him. His eye
widens in panic, but he forces
a smile.
"Nice to meet you," he says,
his voice tight. He's masking,
a technique he's honed over the
years to navigate the world that
doesn't quite fit him. The effort
it takes to appear normal is
exhausting, but for Chip, for
his family, he'll try. He takes
a deep breath, trying to
regulate his racing heart. But
Hanna's excitement won't abate.
"Oh, I've heard so much about
you!" Hanna says, her hands
squeezing his shoulders. Plankton
swallows hard, his antennae
twitching with the need to flee.
The sensory assault of her
perfume, the touch, the sound
of her voice, it's too much. But
he can't leave, not here, not
now. He smiles, a mask
covering his panic. "Yeah, it's
good to meet you too," he says,
his voice strained. Yet Hanna is
talkative and bubbly.
"Your son's
projects are
always so
amazing!" she
gushes, her hand
now on his arm.
Plankton's antennae
twitch, but he keeps
his smile firmly in place.
He's masking, a
painful dance of
pretending to fit in,
his mind racing to
keep up with the
social cues. "Thanks,
he's very smart," he
forces out, hoping
his voice doesn't give
away the turmoil
inside.
"Look at all these wonderful
things!" Hanna yells, turning
to give Plankton's shoulder
another squeeze. Plankton's
body tenses, but his smile
doesn't falter. He's wearing
his mask today, the one
he's perfected over the years.
The one that lets him pretend
he's okay, that he fits in
this neurotypical world.
The lights in the gym
are too bright, the sounds too
loud. His antennae are on high
alert, his brain trying to filter
the onslaught. Karen's hand
in his is a lifeline, but even
she can't dull the sensory
overload. Yet he nods, he smiles,
he makes polite small talk.
He's a chameleon, blending
in as best he can, for his family.
For Chip, for Karen, he'll
weather this storm as best
he can.
Hanna won't let up. "Oh guess
what? I'm a trainer!"
Her laughter is a siren
to Plankton's sensitive hearing.
"That's... amazing,"
he says, his voice strained.
But Hanna doesn't notice.
"Do you come here often?"
Her question is a minefield
Plankton tries to tiptoe around.
"I, uh, I don't really come
so no," he stammers. "I mean, it's not—"
"Oh, you're so funny!" she
interrupts, her hand on his arm
again. The pressure sends
shivers down his spine, but
he keeps smiling, keeps pretending.
"Heh, ye-"
Her touch is a thunderstorm
on his skin, but he keeps the mask
in place. "What do you do?"
Hanna asks, her eyes sparkling.
"I'm a scientist," Plankton
manages, his antennae vibrating
with the need to retreat.
"Wow, just like Chip!"
Her enthusiasm is a hurricane,
but he nods, his smile fixed.
"Ye-yes, I guess so-"
"Oh, you must be so proud!"
Her hand is still on his arm,
her grip tightening. The noise
in the gym crescendos around
him, each child's laughter
a pinprick in his overwhelmed
brain. "I, I am," he says,
his voice strained. She leans in,
too close for comfort. Plankton's
heart races, his antennae quivering.
He wants to scream, to pull
his arm away, to retreat.
"Look at Chip's project!" Hanna says,
pulling him closer to a table
covered in wires and circuits.
The lights from the screen
flicker over her face, casting
an eerie glow. Plankton's eye
darts around, searching for
his son, for a familiar face.
But Chip is engaged with his
classmates, explaining his creation.
He's missed the storm brewing
in his father's posture.
"Isn't it amazing?" Hanna asks,
her hand squeezing his arm
again. Plankton nods, his antennae
twitching with the pressure.
"It's... yes, it's very good,"
he says, his voice strained.
Karen notices, her eyes
full of concern. She knows
his limits, the tightrope he walks
between appearing sociable
and the screaming need
to retreat. But Hanna doesn't.
"Oh!" Hanna exclaims. "You
are SUCH a great dad to be so
supportive!" Her hand lands
on his shoulder, giving it a
hearty pat. The suddenness of
the touch sends a shock through
Plankton's body. He flinches, his antennae
waving in a silent cry for space.
But Hanna doesn't know, and
she's not quite done either.
"You must be so proud of him!"
Her hand moves to his back,
patting it in what she assumes
is a comforting gesture. But
for Plankton, it burns.
He tries to pull away, his
body screaming for space,
but her grip is firm, her
energy unrelenting. The room
spins, the lights grow brighter.
His antennae quiver with the
strain of holding on to his mask.
"Thank you," he says, his
voice a whisper of the
storm inside. "He's... a good
boy." Karen's hand squeezes
his, a silent reassurance.
The pressure of her touch
is comforting, but it's not
enough. The sensory assault
continues, Hanna's unrelenting.
He can't take it anymore.
The mask is slipping,
his smile fading, but Hanna is not.
"You're such a great
father," Hanna says, her hand
now on his cheek. The suddenness
of the touch sends a jolt
of panic through him. His
eye darts around the room,
searching for escape.
The lights flicker, the sounds
meld into a cacophony.
He's drowning in a sea
of sensation, and Hanna is
the storm's eye, unaware
of the chaos she's causing. "And
Plankton, I think you're just
the sweetest!" she says, giving
his cheek a squeeze. The room
spins, his antennae a blur.
Hanna's smile only widens.
"Hey, don't be shy!" she laughs,
cupping his chin to make him
look at her. He needs space. But
Hanna won't back down.
The pressure builds, his mask
threatening to shatter.
He can't breathe, can't think.
The room is too bright, the
sounds too loud. Hanna's touch
is a brand, searing into his skin.
He tries to pull away, but
his body won't cooperate. "I'm..."
But Hanna interrupts him.
"Oh, you're just adorable!"
Her hand moves to his antennae.
Plankton's heart races, his
body a tight coil of panic.
He tries to smile, but his mouth
wobbles. "Hanna, I'm not—"
He's going to break.
His antennae quiver violently,
his body screaming for mercy.
The mask is slipping, his
eye pleading with Karen.
But she's engaged with
another parent, oblivious
to his distress. He tries
to pull away, but Hanna's
grip is unyielding.
"Hanna," he whispers, his voice
a thread of panic. "Please."
But she doesn't hear him,
doesn't see the pain in his
eye. She's too caught up
in her own excitement,
the storm of her affection
crashing down on him like
a waterfall.
He tries to step back, but
his legs are like lead. The
noise of the gym crescendos,
each laugh a needle in his ear.
The lights, the smells, the
sensations, they're all too
much. He needs to escape,
to find his quiet place.
But Hanna won't let him.
Her hand moves
to tickle his side.
Her laugh makes
him hold his head.
But she keeps going,
unaware of his pain.
"Plankton you're so fun..."
But Plankton's body betrays him,
his stomach lurching. His hand
shoots to his mouth, eye
wide with horror. He can't. Then
suddenly...
He's sick. Right there,
on the floor of the crowded
gym. The smells, the sounds,
the touch. It's all too much.
He didn't mean to, but he
has no control. His body
heaves, and Hanna finally
retreats her hands.