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Sometimes Jongler really hated their Mike costume.
It wasn’t that they hated the design that much, especially with the cowboy hat. It was just really uncomfortable to wear. It was somehow both too loose and too tight. The fabric was supposed to be smooth, almost soft, but with all the layers they had to wear it ended up sticky with sweat more often than not.
Most of the time they could ignore it for their shift, or they could work sound or lights and take off parts of their costume while Tenna was busy on set. Some days, though…
Their suit was pinching their shoulders again. They didn’t know how. Pluey had adjusted and re-adjusted it to try and fix the problem, but it still pinched. The collar of their shirt, normally unnoticeable, was constantly barely brushing the back of their neck. Their thick gloves made it impossible to flip through the script quickly, and Tenna had already gotten impatient with them twice today. The lights were so hot, even off the stage, and there were so many darkners chattering, they couldn’t focus.
They knew, realistically, that they should switch out with Pluey. Take a breather, do something with fewer people around, get out of the damn costume as much as they could without risking anything, but they couldn’t. Tenna was constantly asking them questions, and they couldn’t duck out long enough to make the switch.
They could make it through their shift. They only had a couple hours left. They would live. Though their costume might not if it kept pinching them.
As time went on, they felt themself exhausting rapidly. It was like their mind couldn’t hold more than one thought at a time. Tenna kept asking questions about props, line reads, costumes, whatsits and doozits (words Jongler wasn’t sure if he made up on the spot or they were mishearing). Processing what he was saying took all their focus, and then their responses were slow and flat. No energy whatsoever. Battat would be furious, but Jongler couldn’t think straight long enough to care.
Their balance had started listing dangerously, and they’d used their Mike privileges to have a random pippins grab them a chair. Sitting helped their balance, but somehow made their costume feel about 20 times worse. Part of them wanted to cry, but they didn’t even have energy for that. A wall had slammed down between their emotions and their face, and for that they were grateful. Tenna wouldn’t ask questions that way. They risked checking the clock. Half an hour to go. They could survive half an hour, right?
Finally, Tenna wrapped up filming. Jongler knew they were supposed to help with the after-show cleanup, but as they got up from their chair (wobbling even as they held it for support), Tenna interrupted, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.
He started talking way too loud, too fast, Jongler couldn’t hear what he was saying, everything was too much. They just wanted to go back to their room. Tenna stopped, waiting for a response. Shit. They missed it completely. Fuck.
“Uh… Sorry, boss, could ya repeat that?”
Tenna’s expression shifted to concern. He spoke in a quieter, more personal tone that Jongler thankfully had an easier time parsing. “Are you feeling alright, Mike? You’ve hardly been your normal self today.”
“Just a bit tired, boss, don’t worry about Mike. Who is me. Don’t worry about me.” Battat was going to kill them.
Tenna frowned, putting a hand to Jongler’s forehead. “Are you sure you’re not sick?”
They couldn’t bring themself to move, to swat at the hand as Battat would or lean into it as Pluey would. “Nah, boss. Just tired, ya know? Lots ta keep track of, lots ta do, an’ I might’ve overdone it a bit.”
Tenna put his hands on his hips. “Now, Mike, what have I said about overworking yourself?”
Jongler couldn’t tell if he was teasing or genuinely upset. “Uh. Not to do that?”
If Tenna had eyebrows, they would be up. “Now I know you aren’t feeling well. I’ll take care of the cleanup today, you go rest. And you won’t need to go to any evening appointments today, not even mine, alright? I want my Mike rested and ready for anything!”
Jongler knew they should have pushed back, should have at least offered to go to the other appointments since Battat would be taking care of those, but they couldn’t bring themself to. They just said, “Thanks, boss. I’ll be better by tomorrow,” and left, thankfully keeping their balance until they could lean against the wall for support.
Most of the darkners were helping with cleanup, so there was almost no-one in the halls. That was good, it meant they weren’t getting crowded as they made their way to the Mike room. Their body was screaming at them. Just a bit farther. They could do this.
They barely made it in the door before they collapsed to the ground, sitting against the wall. The costume was unceremoniously taken off and tossed to the side in a pile. No more claustrophobic headpiece, no more thick gloves, no more pinching jacket, itchy shirt, tight shoes. They robotically stripped down to their pants, which were thankfully the same as their much more comfortable Zapper uniform. They could finally breathe for a moment.
As soon as they did, they noticed how terrible they still felt. Their skin was sticky with sweat, and the air practically burned where it touched their bare skin. They had made a fool of themself, of their partners, in front of Tenna. They had messed up again, they were so stupid. Worthless. Nausea crept up. They didn’t want to be sick right now, it would just make everything so much worse.
They didn’t know how long they sat there, emotions crashing over them as the forced mental barrier fell. The exhaustion hit the hardest, followed by frustration and upset. They couldn’t even really define most of what they were feeling, there was just so much.
As if through a fog, Jongler noticed how uncomfortable the floor was. They should probably move. At least shift over to the couch. Then they would have some sort of cushion.
…They couldn’t move. Their limbs refused to move, even twitching their fingers felt like trying to move the entire set. Damn.
They felt gross. Their face felt hot, even without their costume on. The sweat had mostly dried while they were zoned out, but their skin still felt sticky, and that was one of the worst textures. They felt a tear start tracking down the side of their face, unable to care enough to wipe it away. They just wanted to take a vacation from existing for a bit. Not long enough to make their partners worry, but enough to stop feeling like this.
The door opened. Battat and Pluey walked in, both looking concerned as they scanned the room. When Battat saw them, he blushed slightly at their general lack of clothes, but his face went from concern to extremely worried.
Battat and Pluey sat down on either side of them, watching their slumped body carefully. Shit, they’d have to talk and explain things. Could they even speak? No, too much. Damnit. They weren’t even supposed to be seen like this. They were supposed to have been able to move somewhere secluded, or at least more comfortable, to ride this out, but no. Their body gave up here. Fuck. They felt more tears leak out, hot with embarrassment and discomfort and frustration.
Pluey made a distressed warble, carefully reaching up and wiping the tears from their face. Thankfully their touch didn’t burn like Jongler was expecting it to. A small boon.
“Jongler? Are you alright? No, sorry, stupid question. Are you hurt?” It felt like trying to listen through a shitty pair of speakers, a buzzing noise eating into their hearing.
They wished they could respond. Battat was getting scared now, he was visibly checking them for injuries as much as he could without moving or touching them.
Pluey took their hand, squeezing it gently in reassurance. Reassurance for who, they weren’t sure, but it did help. They managed to squeeze back, if only in a weak twitch of their fingers. Pluey lit up, so that must have been enough.
With their other hand, Pluey pulled out their notepad and wrote something, showing it to Battat. Jongler couldn’t even bring themself to care what they’d written, or that there was a secret conversation happening. Battat took their other hand, the one not being held by Pluey. That was nice. He didn’t usually do stuff like that.
“Okay, Jongler, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to ask you questions, and you can respond by squeezing my or Pluey’s hand. Okay?”
Okay. That was something they could try, at least. Hopefully they wouldn’t get exhausted by something that simple. That would suck. They squeezed Battat’s hand, with it again coming out as a weak twitch.
Battat breathed a sigh of relief. “One squeeze for yes, two for no, three for something else, okay?”
Yes, they squeezed Pluey’s hand. For some reason moving that hand was easier. Pluey nodded, and Battat gave a weak smile.
“Are you injured?”
No.
“Are you sick?”
No. Another sigh of relief. A pause.
“Pluey heard what happened earlier, Tenna was still mic’d up.” Jongler couldn’t stop themself from tensing as it was brought up. They knew they’d messed up, they couldn’t stand being yelled at right now.
“Woah, hey, it’s alright. I’m not angry. It’s okay. I just wanted to tell you that I know not to go to the evening stuff.”
Jongler manually un-tensed their hands. Why did that take effort? This sucked.
Pluey swatted the back of Battat’s head, gesturing something Jongler couldn’t figure out. “Right, sorry, sorry, I’ll stay on track. Do you want us to try and move you somewhere more comfortable?”
Jongler thought for a moment. They’d like to just be able to move themself, but that wasn’t on the cards right now. Could their partners even move them? Probably not comfortably, unless they were much stronger than they looked. But would it be worth it to not be on the floor?
Well, they could try, at least. Yes.
Battat stood, a fountain of words coming out of his mouth as he gestured rapidly. Probably figuring out how to move them easiest, but they couldn’t hear when he was talking that fast.
They drifted for a minute, sinking back into the fog. Some unknown amount of time later, Pluey was squeezing their hand. Jongler squeezed back.
“Oh, good, you’re back. We’re going to try to carry you to the couch, alright?” Yes. “Can you stand or support yourself at all?” No. “Okay. We’re going to move you now.” Yes.
Jongler had no idea what to expect, and couldn’t really process much of what was happening anyways. Pluey was carrying their upper body, and Battat was supporting their lower half. Shockingly, they weren’t being dragged. That was nice. They must be stronger than Jongler had thought.
A few moments later, they were sitting on the couch. They settled, some part of them finally relaxing. Much better. Battat and Pluey sat on either side of them, each taking one of their hands, just like before.
“Alright. Is there anything else you want us to do?”
Jongler thought. The biggest issue now was how gross they felt, but they knew they wouldn’t feel better until after having a shower, which was off the table right now for a number of reasons. Having their partners near was honestly much nicer than riding this out alone, though.
Yes.
Battat paused for a second. “I probably should have realized how difficult this would be with just yes/no questions. That’s on me. Uh. Do you want us to bring you something?”
No.
“Do you want us to do something to you?”
Does ‘stay put and lay next to me’ count as doing something? Yes.
“Alright, do you want a hug?” Close, but they’d rather just cuddle, since they fortunately weren’t dying from being touched this time, and didn’t want the contact to end. They squeezed once, paused, then three times.
“A hug and something else?” Oh, this was going to be difficult. Damnit. Too late to back out. No.
“Uh… A hug, but you aren’t sure?” No. Battat struggled for a moment. “Pluey, any ideas?”
Pluey thought for a moment, scratching their head. They scribbled down a few options: ”1: cuddle, 2: kiss, 3: something else”
Jongler squeezed once, immensely grateful that Pluey was able to figure it out.
“Oh! Cuddling, yeah, we can do that,” Battat said, already moving to curl into their side. Pluey also shifted to press against them, moving Jongler’s arms to be around their partners. They ended up holding Battat and Pluey almost like they were plushies. They relaxed, surprisingly comfortable given how terrible they felt earlier.
Jongler drifted, barely conscious of their partners talking quietly. Well, Battat talking and Pluey humming or writing. Eventually, slowly, it became easier to think. They still felt kind of gross, but it wasn’t as consuming. They were still tired, but they felt more like a person than a shambling mound of goop.
Pluey and Battat had barely moved from where they had settled. Battat was rambling something about the other pippinses, idly playing with Jongler’s hand as he spoke. Pluey was purring quietly. They were both so cute. Jongler loved them so much it was unbearable.
They shifted slightly, and Battat paused their ramble. “Are you back with us?” he asked softly.
Jongler decided to try speaking. “Yeahs, I’m here.” Their voice was scratchy, but functional. Before they could say more, Pluey rammed themself into their side, hugging them tightly.
They gently pet Pluey, happy to have their mobility back. “Easy, Plues. I’m here, I’m alright, see?”
Battat reached upward, pressing a kiss to the side of their face before settling back down, not looking at them. “You scared the shit out of us. Are you okay?”
Jongler blushed slightly, embarrassed. “Sorry ‘bout all dat. Yeahs, I’m okay.”
Battat frowned. “Bullshit. You were almost completely nonresponsive.”
Jongler sighed. Ah, here was the explanation time they had been dreading. They fidgeted with their fingers, trying to figure out how to explain themself.
Apparently they were silent for too long, because Battat took one of their hands gently, squeezing it. They squeezed back, careful to be gentle now that they were on the way back to normal. The others were so physically fragile at times…
Battat visibly struggled for words for a second. “You don’t have to say anything. I can’t force you. But I honestly have no idea what happened, and I never want to feel like that again.”
“I knows, it’s just… I dunno how to explain it. Nothin’ goes wrong, I don’t get hurt, it’s not somethin’ like my balance thing.” They trailed off, trying to think of how to phrase it.
Pluey made a questioning sound, gesturing to the pile of costume pieces on the floor. Jongler winced slightly.
“Da costume is part of it, yeahs. Sorry, Plues, I know you worked real hard on it.” They waved a hand dismissively before pressing a kiss to the back of Jongler’s hand, as if to say not to worry about it.
Jongler sighed. Better said badly than not said at all. “Sometimes stuff just gets real overwhelming, an’ my body just shuts down. It’s not every time, an’ I can usually avoid collapsin’ like dat, but it does happen, mostly ‘cause of sensory stuff or too much happenin’ at da same time.”
Battat scrunched his face, thinking. “Huh. Usually when I get overloaded like that I just start screaming and hitting things, but I guess whatever works.”
Jongler sputtered for a moment, confused. “Wait, why are you’s being so calm now?”
“What? You aren’t injured or sick, you haven’t been hiding something horrible, and I got an answer to my question. Also, one of you needs to remind me to brainstorm ways to fix your costume to make it better to wear.”
Jongler struggled for words. “I- Wh- You’s believe me? Dat I’m not just being dramatic?”
“ ( •́△•̀) ”
“What?? No, of course not, you literally couldn’t even support your own weight for the few steps to the couch, who the hell said you were being dramatic?!”
“ ╾━╤デ╦︻ (ᐖ ) !!”
“Exactly! Clearly someone is a complete idiot, and it’s definitely that asshole. Who was it, we’ll make sure they never spout their bullshit to anyone again.”
Jongler couldn’t stop themself if they tried. They clutched their partners tight to their chest, crying from sheer relief.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong now?!” Battat exclaimed, wiping at their tears.
“I just— you two’s— I love you’s so much,” they eventually got out around their sobs. Anyone else that had seen them in a shutdown, or that they’d tried to explain it to, had brushed them off completely, or not believed their explanation of the causes. Their partners had done the bare minimum, they knew, but it was still so much better than any other reaction they’d gotten.
Pluey reluctantly stowed their gun as they moved to hug Jongler back, kissing them gently. Battat let himself be held, gently rubbing Jongler’s back soothingly.
“We love you too, alright? We’re not going anywhere.”
Jongler cried for a bit, eventually running out of tears and just holding their partners.
Eventually they spoke again, voice layered in exhaustion. “I’m sorry I keeps breaking down like dis today.”
“Oh, shut up. Don’t apologize for that, it's not like you wanted this shit to happen,” Battat said, gently swatting at them. Pluey voiced their agreement. “Anyway, d’ya want food? Because it’s been like six hours since you’ve eaten anything.”
Jongler mentally scanned through their body. “I think first I wants a shower. Den food. I feel gross.”
Pluey wrote on their notepad, “Do you need help getting there?”
“Nah, I should be alright. Uh, if you’s could get the shower chair, though…” Pluey saluted, heading off to set it up. “Thanks, Plues.”
“ ( ˘ ³˘)♡”
Battat sat up, stretching. “Any ideas what we should make? I’ve been thinking pasta, but it’s up to you if your sensory issues are bugging ya that much today.”
Jongler shrugged. “Dat sounds pretty good. You’s know what I like at dis point.”
Battat chuckled, “Fair enough. Everything should be ready by the time you get out.”
Jongler nodded and silence fell for a couple seconds. Something caught in their mind, and they asked, “Hey, Batts? What was dat about you’s also gettin’ overloaded like dis?”
“Oh, that? Ah. Yeah, similar thing to you, I guess, but fortunately my costume doesn’t set me off. If I get overwhelmed or frustrated enough, I stop being able to think, and I usually end up hitting stuff or screaming or both. It’s not fun, but fortunately it’s been a while since the last time it happened.”
Jongler hesitated. The way he said ‘hitting stuff’ made it sound like there was more there. “Whaddya mean hittin’ stuff? Why?”
Battat looked awkward, but tried to play it off casually. “Y’know, just, hitting things. With my hands. I dunno why, it’s a way to get the stress out of my head. Plus the impacts can be a distraction, y’know?”
He was sweating slightly. There was something they weren’t being told. “Just… Don’t hurt yourself, yeah? Or let us know if ya do get hurt. Alright?”
Battat’s expression flickered. That was probably it. “Yeah… Yeah, I’ll do that, promise.”
Pluey came back in, making a ‘ta-da’ noise. They offered their hand to Jongler, who gratefully took it to help them get to the bathroom. Resting on the countertop was a clean set of clothes, one of Jongler’s most comfortable relaxation outfits. They’d completely forgotten about clean clothes. God, they loved their partners.
They felt much better after their shower, and even better after food. Battat wasn’t a great cook, but he could make an excellent pasta, and with Pluey making sure nothing burned when he inevitably got distracted, dinner was lovely.
Later, they could figure out a new round of adjustments to Jongler’s costume. Later, they would figure out an explanation for Tenna. Later, they could all come up with a plan for if this happens again. But for now, Pluey had pulled out a weighted blanket big enough to cover the three of them, and Battat was actually going to bed early for once, and Jongler was more than happy to drift off to sleep surrounded by the people they love.