1675: Five Nights at Freddy’s x reader character x character oc x oc – OneshotPosted: February 3, 2017
Title: Five Nights at Freddy’s x reader character x character oc x oc
Media: Video Game
Topic: Five Nights at Freddy’s (allegedly)
URL Chapter 1
URL Chapter 2
Critiqued by Ghostcat
—CONTAINS GRAPHIC SCENES INVOLVING SELF-HARM AND REFERENCES TO SUICIDE—
Hello, dear Patrons!
Are you ready for another oneshot? And this one’s a Reader fic! From the Five Nights at Freddy’s canon!
:waits patiently for the screams to subside:
Now that you’ve gotten that out of your system, let’s move on to the first chapter.
It’s not really a chapter, though, just a long form of some kind.
Here is the form
See what I mean?
If it’s oc x oc (Do this for both of them)
If it’s character x oc
Character (That your oc has a crush on)-
If it’s character x character
Now, I’m familiar with the standard abbreviations used in Reader fics (like [h/c] for hair color) but this is far more extensive. Not only is the author asking the audience to provide physical characteristics, but also things like their personality, their love interest, even an antagonist. The audience is, in essence, being told to write a full character and plot summary before they begin the fic. If the audience is going to do all of this, what’s left for the author to do?
It is quite telling that the versions for canon characters don’t ask for as much information, since presumably the only thing you need to describe a canon character’s personality and appearance is just their name.
On to the first and only chapter! It’s titled Bonnie x Reader-Loving you is suicide, which is setting off all sorts of alarm bells.
Everywhere is still Everything is restless in my heart I hate the way this feels Suddenly i’m scared to be apart The days are dark when you’re not around The air is getting hard to breathe I wish that you would just put me down I wish that I could go to sleep
…That looks suspiciously like song lyrics. Be right back, Patrons!
Yep, song lyrics – in this case, Suicide by Rihanna. That’s not a good sign. I think I’m going to have to put a disclaimer on this riff.
I cried as I saw the test message from Bonnie’s phone, I red it once more to see if this wasn’t a dream…But I knew it wasn’t.
I assume that’s supposed to be a text message, but why is Bonnie texting me depressing song lyrics? And what does it have to do with FNAF?
[Enemy’s Name]-Hey baby, how are you?
[Bonnie]-Good, How about you?
[Enemy’s Name]-Fine i guess. Say how about we go to the movies today, I heard the texas chainsaw is out and I want to see it with my fave bf
[Bonnie]-Sure, i’ll pik you up at 9:30. Get ready
[Enemy’s Name]-K, bye
[Bonnie]-See ya _
Huh. This looks like a text exchange between Bonnie and my unknown enemy that was sent to me from Bonnie’s phone, but the only way that could have happened would be if Bonnie accidentally started a group text with me and the person he’s cheating on me with. That sounds like a really stupid thing for someone who is actively cheating on their partner to do.
I don’t really have a sworn enemy, because I’m not a superhero or Game of Thrones character, so I’m just going to randomly select a name out of Crunchy’s Sippy Cup of Enemies… :draws slip of paper:
Bonnie is cheating on me with … :unfolds paper: Napoleon Bonaparte? Well, that’s a little unexpected.
I pinched my arm where a huge, bloody, deep wound was,
I hope I’m attempting to close the wound while I wait for emergency services to arrive, but it kind of looks as if I’m pinching inside this wound, which would hurt like hell. Unless I’m an animatronic, or something. It’s possible I am, since there’s been no description of me. Why bother filling out the “form” in the first “chapter” if none of that stuff is going to get used in the fic? I don’t even know if I’m still a girl or not.
I felt more blood leek out were I pinched it, it burned but I didn’t care because the burn felt amazing under my conditions.
What conditions would those be, exactly? All I know is that my dumbass boyfriend is cheating on me with a French dictator and suddenly there’s all this nonsense about ….
Oh, shit. It’s a self-harm reference, isn’t it? I’m all depressed because of the cheating dumbass sending me this innocuous chat so I decided to gouge a hole in my arm and start poking at it.
:taps author with Mr. Crowbar:
Tread carefully here, author. Self-harm is a serious impulse-control disorder, often used as a coping mechanism to deal with serious mental and/or emotional problems, and should not be used as a cheap gimmick to make someone all “OMG sooo Tragek!” rather than actually developing them as a character.
My breath was shaky as more hot tears bravley made their way out of my dull [color] eyes,
I’m bravely weeping while I maim myself? I’ve heard of romanticizing destructive behaviours, but that just sounds ridiculously purple.
my hands shook as I grbbed my Columbia River M16 knife out of my pocket and ran to the bathroom.
That’s an oddly specific weapon for me to have. I own several knives and I probably couldn’t tell you the make and manufacture of any of them just off the top of my head.
My bruised skin on my side hit the wall of a corner and i cried out in pain but kept going.
Why do I have bruises? Did I literally beat myself up at some point? Was I in an accident? Did Bonnie do it, or Napoleon? Is that how I got the gouge on my arm as well? I thought I had done it all, but now I’m just really confused about the origins of my injuries.
Loving you is suicide I don’t know should go or should I stay I’m tryna to keep myself alive Knowing there’s a chance it’s all too late But I heard you say you loved me That’s the part I can’t forget And I wish that you come save me Cus i’m standing over the edge
Oya, more song lyrics. The author could have at least formatted them properly instead of clumping them together into an unpunctuated sentenceograph.
‘Bonnie…I love you, and I still do but…I know I shouldn’t’ I thought as I stared at the mirror infront of me as my tears didn’t stop once I then looked at my wrist.
Great snakes, it’s like I’m trapped inside Enoby! I don’t know what I’m wearing, but odds are it’s black leather trimmed with red lace and/or was purchased at Hot Topic.
Sliding the knife across my wrist put a painfully smile on my face as I saw the blood slither out of the cut and down my wrist.
Wow, I must have been crying hard for a long time if I’ve gotten so dehydrated that my blood has become viscous enough to slither rather than flow like a liquid should. And why am I so focused on the blood? Self-harm fixates on the pain the injuries cause, not the blood they produce. That’s a completely different mental issue.
And I hate to keep bringing it up, but what does this have to do with the source materials?
“Sweet pain is all I feel now.” I muttered, my heart wanted me to stop, begging to not kill myself…But my brain wanted me to keep going, begging me to end it as long as i’ll be way from Bonnie.
I think I’ve got that reversed; my brain, representing the logical side of myself, should be the one telling me to stop acting like an idiot over a faithless boy, while my emotion-driven heart would be the one urging me on in my purple-prose-drenched quest for oblivion.
The author seems to be under the impression that self-harm is a form of attempted suicide – it’s not. Self-harm is a coping mechanism; it’s typically used as a form of emotional release or serves as a distraction from other serious problems. While people who self-harm are more likely to attempt suicide (or accidentally commit suicide when they go a little too far), not everyone who self-harms is suicidal – and not everyone who is suicidal self-harms.
But my arms worked on their own, my eyes were [color] but now their a dull, colorless [color], like all the color has been drined out.
Depending on how badly I’ve hurt myself, there’s a good change that they have been “drined”.
I know this is supposed to be all dark and broody, but I still can’t help but wonder why the audience had to fill out those long forms with character traits when the only thing that’s made an appearance thus far is the reader’s eye color.
And what does this have to do with FNAF? Can anyone tell me?
I didn’t are anymore.
I can’t even.
Taking the knife I slide it across my closed right eye,
I jerked back in pain alittle bit, but kept going.
WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING? AND WHY AM I CONTINUING TO DO IT?!?!?
Once I opened my eye I saw a long very deep lined wound across my eye, blood was gushing out like nobody’s bissness.
Wait, what? I cut open my eyeball, but I can see the wound? And it’s gushing blood?
Author, I don’t think you know how to eyeball.
The eyeball itself is filled with a translucent jelly-like material called vitreous humor, which looks nothing like blood. There is a network of fine capillaries wrapped around the surface of the eyeball, called the conjunctiva, and damage to these vessels (such as due to a head injury or high blood pressure or hemorrhagic fevers like Ebola) can cause blood to seep out beneath the transparent outer layer and create a subconjunctival hemorrhage – a very dramatic-looking injury that is rarely more serious than a bruise. In order to reach a major blood vessel, I’d have to aim deep behind the eyeball for the vein supplying the optic nerve at the back of the eye socket.
I don’t care how moody and depressed I am or how Trajek I am trying to be, I’m not gouging out my own eye in a flashy suicide attempt. That’s something a dangerously schizophrenic person might do in an attempt to get rid of their hallucinations. Hell, I don’t even like it when I get dust or a lash in my eye so I certainly wouldn’t cut the thing open. Eyes are one of our most important sensory organs, but also one of the most vulnerable; humans have a very deep and primal reaction when they see any sort of injury or trauma to an eye, even if it isn’t their eye. This is the reason eye trauma features so heavily in horror works – they are almost guaranteed to make the audience flinch.
That made me smile ‘Finally I an just die in peace, and Bonnie…This is your fault’ I wrote on a peacie of paper in my own blood.
I brought paper with me into the bathroom? I mean, there’s paper in the bathroom, but it wouldn’t be good for writing notes.Why not just write it on the mirror? That would be properly “dramatic”, and much easier than trying to fingerpaint all of that on a sheet of paper – especially if it’s just toilet paper – while suffering rapid blood loss and having the use of only one eye.
“I hope you feel happy about what you did.”
He’s not the one cutting my arms or gouging out my eye – that’s all me. (I’m still not entirely sure where the bruises came from, though.) I don’t even know if he’s aware that I know he was cheating on me with Napoleon. If he was even really cheating on me, there could be a completely innocent explanation for the texts. I guess I’ll never know, because I immediately jumped to the absolute worst interpretation.
I growled under my breath as way more tears slipped out of my dull hurtful [color] orbs, they shined like a dimond as light hit them, but they then splattered into my blood which made them turn to blood as well.
I stabbed myself in the eye; at least one side of my face should already be crying blood. I’m already oozing angst out of every pore. And then there’s the purple prose…
I should let you go Tll myself the things i need to hear but my brain is wired wrong that’s why i’m loving you when you’re not here feels like i drown in your every word and every breath that’s in between somehow you got me where it really hurts it’s killing every part of me
Yet more song lyrics. Are these lumps supposed to be scene breaks, or is this just a really oddly formatted songfic?
Suddenly the light went out in my bathroom and all my pain and happiness flowed away as fear took over me.
Is this the point where I realize just what the hell I’m doing and that I need help because I don’t really want to die?
I know this is stupid but i’m afraid of the dark,
I always have maybe that’s why Bonnie left…
He didn’t leave me, he planned a movie date with Napoleon while still dating me! The cheating bastard might still think I’m his girlfriend!
No I can’t be thinking about that right now, i’ve got to think about calming myself down.
No, I need to be thinking about first aid and calling 911.
Taking a towel I begain to clean the bloody floor incase if someone or something breaks the door down and see’s me in a pool of blood with cuts on my writs.
I’m trying to clean up the blood despite the fact that I have open, bleeding wounds on my arm and face. I must be woozy from blood loss or something. And I thought the lights went out? I shouldn’t be able to see anything, even if I had two functioning eyes.
“[Y/N]! I’m back!” A voice snapped me out of my thoughts and I panicked.
Okay, now is when I should be trying to clean up the blood, especially if I think I can hide what I’ve done from everyone else. I can’t, because for some reason I conspicuously cut highly visible parts of my body instead of areas where I would be able to hide my injuries, but panic does odd things to people.
“[Y/n] Where are you!?” Again…That voice made me scowl at the floor, oh that sickening voice, i hated it so much…But oh how i loved it so much
“[Y/N]! Where are you?! Are you here!?” That voice asked/yelled louder. “No, i’m not here..At least not anymore.” I muttered darkly.
I think I’m still here. If my injuries were life-threatening, I probably would have bled to death already.
Loving you is suicide I don’t know should go or should I stay I’m tryna to keep myself alive Knowing there’s a chance it’s all too late But I heard you say you loved me That’s the part I can’t forget And I wish that you come save me Boy cus I’m standing over the edge
Gah. I hope the song is almost over, because this is getting annoying.
Light creaking sounds of wood could be heard coming closer every time a drop of blood dripped on the soft rug beneath me, getting it stained with blood.
I’ve been in the bathroom for several moments, using part of that time to gouge out my own eye. I think the rug is a lost cause.
I suddenly broke down into tears as a scream pierced out of my throat, I looked down and saw that I was holding my knife in my hands tightly.
Crap, did I just stab myself again? This is getting repetitive.
Crimson could be seen pouring fast out of my deep wound in my hands,
Seriously, how do I have any blood left in my body at this point?
another scream snapped out of my throat as my grip on the knife tightened harder, my hands were shaking badly.
I thought I liked the pain? Wasn’t I just going on and on about how happy the pain made me?
My eyes went wide as I heard someone trying to break down the bathroom door, getting up I ran to an air vent in my bathroom and put my knife in there so no one steals it.
Because that’s definitely my top priority at the moment.
And isn’t it still dark in the bathroom? How can I see what I’m doing?
“[Y/N]!” A voice that belonged to Bonnie yelled. The bathroom door then smashed open as I fell in my bathtub I was behind, hitting my head.
I was behind the bathtub, the door was smashed open, and then I … fell into the bathtub? I don’t know how that would happen.
‘Owww…’ I though as I shut my eyes tightly and tears fell out fast from all the pain from me came hitting me like a bunch of bricks.
I only thought it? I thought I was screaming bloody murder a second ago?
“Y/N]! OMG ARE YOU OK!?” Bonnie asked loudly as he came to help me out.
No, I’m not. Far from it.
“Get away from me…Now.” I muttered as I felt cold stuff run down my head. I touched there and saw that it was…Blood. I cracked my head open…Then blackness.
If my blood was already cool to the touch, then I should have died long before this. Assuming I even had any blood left at this point.
It takes quite a lot of force to actually break the skull, it’s evolved specifically to protect our fragile think-meat from the hostile world around us. One of the big dangers from closed-head injuries is intercranial pressure; the brain bleeds or swells and the skull’s protective casing becomes a suffocating straight jacket. That’s a bad thing.
Loving you is suicide And my world’s about to break And I… had as much as I can take And love is a long way down
I am really hoping this is the last part of the song. it’s not as long as the other passages, so maybe that’s a good sign.
“Where am I?” I asked as I held my head for a bit, I then looked up to see my mother. “M-Mom? What’s happening!?”
Why is my mother in my bathroom? Did I pass out? Where did Bonnie go? Did he see me in the bathtub and freak out?
AND WHAT THE HELL DOES ANY OF THIS HAVE TO DO WITH FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY’S?!?!
I panicked looking around to only see a water founten and whiteness.
Do I have a bidet in my bathroom? How fancy.
“[Y/n] this will be hard for you to hear but…Your dead.”
My dead what?
My eyes widen and I cried while pulling on my hair, I ran to the water founten and looked through it to only see Bonnie crying by my dead body.
Oh, I’m dead. And my bidet is apparently the Mirror of Galadriel.
“[Y/n]..I wasn’t cheating on you if that’s why you cut yourself, I was just getting evendince from your enemy because she used to have a lot of boyfriends and I thought she had a lot of experience…But I was wrong and stupid…NO!” The purple haired male yelled at the end as nurses came in and took him out of the room, but he was fighting it.
HA! I was right about him not cheating on me. Not really sure what kind of evidence he was trying to gather by dating Napoleon, only that it involved Napoleon having a lot of boyfriends and a lot of “experience” and all that implies. I don’t see how the dating habits of my enemy affects our lives in any way, but it does prove that Bonnie really is a dumbass.
“MOM I WANT TO GOT BACK! I WANT TO go back…PLEASE!” My voice went loud to soft but then loud again.
Hold on a second; if I’m dead and my mother is with me, does that mean my mother is dead also? Because I saw her last Tuesday and she didn’t look very dead to me.
“Are you sure sweetie?” She asked looking at me.
“Yes, i’m sure. I love him to much to let him go..Please.” I cried
” *Sigh* Alright [y/n]. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I will, I promise.” I said as I looked back as her, happiness in my eyes.
Is she going to give me some convoluted task to complete or some sort of arbitrary time limit? That’s typically how the “return to Earth from the afterlife” scenario goes.
Loving you is suicide And it’s getting harder everyday I’m tryna to keep myself alive Knowing there’s a chance it’s all too late And i’m way past every moment But i’m still determined to fight And I know it’s taking all my strength To keep these emotions alive Loving you is suicide
I am so frickin’ over this song.
I woke up with a jolt as the heart beat monitor went to a straight line then it went up and down again.
That’s … That’s not how consciousness works. At all. And wasn’t I dead in a bathtub; how did I get to a place with a heart monitor?
At the same time the nurses gasped as they saw my eyes open, Bonnie then broke out of their grasps and ran over to me, holding me close to his chest.
A heart monitor and nurses. If I was dead, literally cold to the touch with multiple wounds and a cracked-open skull, I doubt any hospital would simply hook me up to monitors and then just leave me in a room. If I was at a hospital, wouldn’t they be working on saving me? Assuming they would even try, given my previously mentioned state.
His purple orbs littered with crystal clear tears as he tried to breathe, the nurses left thinking everything was safe.
They’re not even going to check my vitals to see if I’m stable? Maybe hook me up to an IV and give me some fluids to replace the copious amounts of blood I just lost?
“[Y/N]! Don’t ever scare me like that again!” The purple haired male yelled softly.
He’s doing what now?
“I’m so sorry I was hanging out with your enemy. Please, please forgive me.”
No, thank you. I don’t date idiots.
“It’s alright Bonnie, I’m sorry you thought I was dead.
Or more precisely, that I was frickin’ dead.
Now I know, that…Even though loving you is suicide, I’ll keep fighting it.” I managed to choke out, he looked happy I said that.
He’s happy that I compared our relationship to a serious mental issue? That my feelings for him make me want to die? That is not a good thing, you know. That’s some fucked-up shit, dude.
So after 2
No numerals in the narration!
weeks in the hospital I was allowed to got free, me and Bonnie couldn’t be any happier.
He must think the eye patch is sexy; for some reason he keeps calling me “Foxy” during cuddle time.
But I learned that I will NEVER tell him I’m pregnant, he’ll just freak out and start doing everything. *Sigh*
Wait a second – am I a female?!?
If I am a female, and we do manage to get pregnant, then I’m going to have to tell him eventually. Not everyone believes that “I swallowed a watermelon seed” story. And why would I be worried about him wanting to do stuff for his baby-mamma? That’s a good thing!
That’s the end of the fic, if it could even be called that. I still have no idea what it has to do with FNAF or why the author wanted the reader to fill out those long forms in the first “chapter” when almost none of the information was used in the fic. It just seems to exist as yet another angst-soaked self-harm fanfic that perpetuates a lot of very negative stereotypes. I tend to avoid these kind of fics, but this was was just so over-the-top gruesome that it’s downright offensive. I almost hope that this author is a troll, which is always a possibility.