note: semi-sentient animatronic maintenance, showbiz pizza animatronic technician reader/user, takes place modern day, if anyone finds this post no you didnât- hes so pretty everyone be quiet. donât really know about this one, itâs kinda weird but like whatever. possibly incorrect animatronic anatomy- brat bear
HAPPY VOLO DAY!! so jealous of whoever can go have fun for me yall- also this has been in my drafts for way too long I had to bully myself into finishing this garbage
The weeks are grueling, and the summer sun is so unforgiving that you consider boarding up the windows just to keep the animatronics from disintegrating with how often theyâve been breaking down
âIf I have to replace one more mask, I swear to god iâll start burning them myself.â
âI take it your summerâs not going too well?â A coworker teases, though the smile was plain mocking with how stressed you were. Kids were out for summer, and a significant amount of your coworkers had either moved off to college, or downright quit to pursue better careers- something you honestly shouldâve done as well.
you just roll your eyes, leaning on one of the tables in the back of the showroom and watching them run, painfully critiquing every misplaced jerking of a movement or slight tearing and melting on one of the masks.
luckily the children watching didnât really notice- though were no less creeped out by the animatronic characterâs clumsy performance on stage
âYou could just shut the stage off.â She shrugs, you try not to glare her way.
âRight, because I make the decisions around here.â You huff, deciding to just turn your body her direction to avoid the mechs. âNo. Iâm just glad I donât make the payments towards new masks and parts.â
She sighs with a soft careless smirk, one formed from restful sleep and non-metallic smelling palms. âIf it helps, I donât notice anything.â
You shoot her a sidelong glance but make no effort to argue further. âJust tell Jason iâll have them working better by tomorrow morning- if I talk to âim, iâll just end up coming off bitchy.â
She huffs a small laugh. âWell, to be fair-â
Your glare silences her well enough to raise her hands in surrender.
âFine, but donât come whining to me when he makes you stay overnight again.â
you knew it was going to be another late night, though that didnât make the work itself any less of a needless chore when the manager could just as easily order better quality parts
you hadnât worked on the animatronics in a week- meaning no one had even touched them in regards to maintenance
with a heavy sigh, you climb onto the stage long after the last of the guests left you to your misery work
taking mental notes of the various colorful âissuesâ, you step about the stage, trying not to trip over any props as you walk circles around the animatronics- careful not to create any more problems for the future
Dook needed a new mask- that was obvious- but you could just as easily either paint over cracking or torn areas to trick the light or replace it with an older unofficial one
Fatzâs jaw was permanently slack, so he needed repairs on his mouth lever- again.
Mitziâs eyes had grown yellow- probably havenât been replaced in a while- a fix so simple you almost hugged her rigid body
And then there was Beach Bear. He was⊠fine; visually, at least. Though, to the trained eye youâd forcibly grown since working here, it was obvious he had air-leaks somewhereâŠ
Now the fun part.
You huff, grunting softly when you kneel at Beach Bearâs side at the control panel, running through each of his movements in an attempt to sift out any leakage.
The fixated furrowing of your brow twitches when you hear a small grunt above you.
âYou couldâve just asked what was wrong instead of picking at the valves.â Beach Bear tilts his head down at you, expression slightly strained though no less teasing- it was clear he liked watching you struggle.
You flinch, nearly banging your head against his surfboard, cursing under your breath as you regain your composure, and glare up at him. âCould you let me work in peace for one night?â
He has the audacity to nudge your arm from the valve-bank with his clawed foot; ââS at my back.â He explains cooly, demonstrating by leaning back on his board- followed by a loud hissing sound, âyouâre welcome.â his smile is aggravating, eyes lazily squinting through the tousled curls of his blonde hair as he watches you.
Rolling your eyes, you stand and grab his shoulder to straighten him up again. Beach Bear tenses, eyes widening a fraction before gathering himself to flash a smirk up at you. âGonna fix me up, or bang me up more?â
âYouâre lucky I havenât quit yet.â You grumble, hiking around his board to settle behind him, and carefully undoing the fur at the back of his neck.
You un-snap the pelt, opening it enough to expose his back through a sort of soft-white curtain. Ignoring the shiver that drags from him, you grab one side of the body shell and work it open from behind, revealing the mech inside- it looks fine, maybe was just being dramatic.
âMove back again.â Your murmur, and it takes a moment for him to comply- as if occupied by something else. When he shifts his body back on the board, the usual soft click from the pneumatic cylinders controlling the acton sounded strained, following the movement with another sharp hiss of released air.
âHow long do I have left?â He quips, though his voice is uncharacteristically effortful.
You try not to punch out one of his cylinders and decide to run your thumb along the elongated rod, straining your wrist to reach inside his body shell as you search for any breaks in the pneumatic cylinder while he keeps his body reclined for you to work.
His shoulders tense and his smirk falls- groaning at your intrusion. âTake it easy.â He grits- though it sounds close enough to a whine- turning his head to the side to try to look at you- though you make no effort to meet his eyes.
âI wouldnât have to do this if you would keep still on stage.â You nudge his shoulder with your free hand before removing your palm from him, furrowing your brows when he relaxes. âItâll need to be replaced, but I could just as easily weld it- that is if you stop whining.â
He shoots an unimpressed smile over his shoulder and huffs; âjust try not to break anything when youâre back there- donât want you messinâ up my stage-presence.
You donât fight the grimace your face forms at him and his ego. âJust be quiet and stay still.â
leaning down to fish at the fake plasticky-grass below his board, you retrieve your tool-bag
heâd been prone to leaks recently due to overexertion on stage- something youâd scolded him for night after night when you inevitably had to weld any leakage points or full on replace pneumatic cylinders or air hosing
you grumble to yourself, holding the back of his neck to keep him compliant as you tried your best to fix the breakage
he doesnât fight- not that youâd expected him but to- but he was oddly⊠obedient like this; as if heâd anticipated it. heâs tense, sure- but Beach Bear keeps still- in fact, heâs leaning back to encourage better access.
ignoring the idea altogether, you snap closed the back of his body shell and button up his fur again, smoothing a palm over his broad back to ensure anything wasnât free of coverage.
Not sparing a second for you to move out of his line of motion, Beach Bear leans back, testing the motion successfully this time.
âNot bad,â he draws out, lazy smirk on his face as he watches you climb out from behind him- inconsiderate asshole.
Zipping back up your tool-bag, you huff exasperatedly at his sudden shift in nature.
Before you can chew him out any more for his carelessness- something you truly shouldâve gotten used to by now after countless months of fixing up this godforsaken robots- he keeps leaned back on his surfboard, strumming lazily on his guitar- as if to silence any further scolding heâd come to expect.
âSame time tomorrow night, then?â He hums, tilting his head slightly to look up at you through his curly hair. His tone is smooth, though no less condescending considering his attitude.
You scoff, standing your ground and crossing your arms. âYou planning on breaking down again?â
He shrugs, tilting his guitar upwards a bit to strum a careless scale. âIf I have to.â he explains, teasing smirk playing on his lips.
note: this took embarrassingly long, I could just never get the idea right and this is totally a weird one sooooo- I KNOW ITS ASS I JUST WANTED TO WRITE SOMETHING FOR HIM AGAIN OKAY
Wolfman mentioning Dingo came from a band called "the Beagles" in the promotional tape at a time CEC created miniature, less advanced bots with the same name makes me wonder if it was Fetcher taking an intentional jab at Bushnell (haha he left your band because mine is cooler) or if the pool for a Beatles themed dog pun was just really shallow and it was a weird coincidence
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