Hey, I hope you’re doing okay. I’m a fan of your work and I’ve seen how this all is affecting you and it resonates with me as well. This has been rough. There’s a lot of good people out there though who care for you and each other and the fan base is honestly a collection of very good minded and sweet people no minorities. This ain’t Scott’s rodeo anymore. It’s ours. -selfgrimmserting
I appreciate it.. it has been very hard. I think it's not just Scott that has hurt me- its the fucking FNaF fandom on goddamn twitter. They didn't get a fuck how hurtful this whole thing was to the LGBT+ community.
But I'll be okay after a few days of crying and trying to get my thoughts straight. :')
I'm sorry but can we take a moment to appreciate every single SI x Springtrap you make?? Like I can't go by this shit without just screaming:"You know what? Fuck it,I DEMAND THESE TWO TO BE MARRIED!!"
A gay ass doodle of my nightguard n Springy to go w/ some writing because I’m too lazy to do a whole mini comic rn
vvvv
“Here, siddown and I’ll put something on TV.” Grimm mumbled, setting aside a tray that sported an assortment of tools it’d brought from the garage.
The tall rabbit it was speaking to had no reason to object, instead settling down with a grunt on the brown leather sofa and immediately reclining.
The ex-Fazbear’s Fright employee had since taken him into its home- well, their new home, actually. The decision had been hasty- after the fire, it didn’t seem safe to keep around the location, risking getting caught with the now-free animatronic. Grimm hadn’t caused the fire, it was more of a lucky break- but avoiding a lawsuit or blame falling on it was uh, the best outcome here. It posted a lease takeover ad and slipped away once the conditions aligned.
They’d roadtripped home, back to where it’d grown up, a cozy mountain town where the houses were tucked along blue-tinted ridges, where you could choose to rent in-town, or slip away into the privacy of the peaks and forests to a more nature-immersed setting. Rent was nice, if you could manage to lease a place before the college students snapped them up. Of course, they’d settled on a little cabin-esque house that offered more privacy.
Springtrap had to adjust to the kind of peace the Smokies had brought. There wasn’t the bustle of constant customers, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable quiet, as opposed to the decades alone in a backroom. He was on edge, unfamiliar with this kind of life and expecting things to take a turn for the worse once more, and Grimm saw that- but the tension subsided as the days passed, and the wildlife visited the house.
Bird watching. He liked bird watching, and the little bird-identification book Grimm had given him, so he could spend days on the deck of the house watching the animals frequent the feeders he’d help hang and fill. He’d toss apple chunks to passing deer, and leave out dishes of leftover eggs, fruit, and fat trimmings from meals for the fox, raccoons and opossum.
“Here, this belonged to my grandmother. We don’t talk anymore, but if she could meet you, I’m sure she’d want you to have it. She really gets people, stubborn as she is.” It had said, as he turned the bird watching book over and thumbed through it with interest, squinting at the letters with weakened eyes. “I’ll get you reading glasses, don’t worry.”
...
When he’d finally snapped out of his thoughts, there was the chatter of some video game streamer, cackling in the background. He also liked that, watching funny people play dumb games, listening to Grimm’s occasional laughs or snarky commentary over it.
It was prepping some kind of rust-cleaning solution. This was the second tune-up session they’d had, the first having covered basics- cleaning him up, removing that... parasite. That parasite resided in a glass case on the coffee table now, which he took some humor in. This time, it was functionality, though. Making sure his joints could move comfortably, removing rust that threatened the inner workings, repairing wiring.
“Mouth open, rusty.” It joked, reaching up to brush those sharp nails against his chin. He liked that feeling.
“Okay, scruffy.” He quipped back with a chuckle, obliging the request with a creak as his jaw slid open.
He tried to focus on the TV as it worked quietly, setting in rust remover on every exposed part of metal it could get to. It didn’t complain about the job, even though he could tell he posed some difficulty. It, however, just playfully swatted him and told him not to be weird when he had snorted idly as it worked at the more awkward parts of his frame, and poked its hands through the ragged holes in his body.
It was while they let the rust remover sit that it was inspecting the rest of him, assessing what could be done.
“I dunnnnnnnno, see... I guess we could probably douse you in fabric cleaner. I don’ know how I feel about stripping off your suit n’ soaking it. You’re not like a Furby or somethin’... Would that hurt?” It was prodding at his broken ear, inspecting shredded and loose wiring. A finger touched a stray wire and he twitched, like a muscle spasm. Grimm winced. “-Shit, sorry bun.”
“Uhh... not sure, if that... would hurt. Never tried.” He shrugged plainly.
“Well, you’re not sun-bleached, obviously, but I don’t know if we’d be able to restore you to your original color even so... Not without me making new parts n’ patches. I can clean out the dust and dirt but you’re stained. What I can do for now is brush out these pills in your fleece and get those bloodstains out. You’ll be a fuzzy cuddly rabbit again.”
Springtrap stiffened a little, an uncertain look on his face, the best he could manage.
“Mmm, you didn’t like something I just said, what’s up?” It clued in immediately to his body language.
“Th’ thing... about parts.” He mumbled, reaching up to touch the broken ear. He stopped short, trying not to get rust remover from his exposed fingers on the fabric, but the gesture was there. “I... dunno. If I want alla’ that.”
“...I just... I think. That I like tha’ wear... Tha’ damage. It’s me. What he did t’ me, but it’s still th’ original... me.” The rabbit continued, voice rasping but still carried with emotion. Sentimental value.
Grimm gave a humored huff and reached up to take his chin gently again.
“I’m only doin’ all of this cuz’ you asked me to clean you up some more, not because I wanna change you or make you some sparkly new model you’re not. I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want. You call the shots here, Bonnie.”
He didn’t have a heart to get racing, but he had those phantom memories of what it was like to be flustered, hot-faced, heart jittery. Those little traces of what it had been like to be alive weren’t his, but he took them gladly, as some kind of simulation of the real feeling. Those attributes, phantom feelings from memories of touch, taste, texture from William had merged with him- It was the little benefits from the bad.
“I love you whatever way you choose to look, it doesn’t change anything for me. Mainly I just wanna make sure you’re comfortable and happy with yourself.”
The rabbit tilted his head, grin seemingly wider than before as eyelids fluttered shut for a minute with a click. He gave a little, wheezy sigh and leaned forward to press his nose to its forehead.
“Oh, you big gay lug.” It laughed, moving in turn to push a kiss to his own torn forehead.
“...I’m... alright with th’ cleanin’, though. Like the sound’a bein’ a fuzzy cuddly rabbit again.” He chuckled.
“Oh, good, because I love using this brush.” It was already in hand, ready to start teasing out the fabric pills. “Let’s get you lookin fuzzy again before I gotta scrub off that cleaner, bun.”
