Weeks at Freddy's (English)

Weeks at Freddy's (English)

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing25m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Jun 21, 2025
It's a dsaf fanfic, it's not canon in the game. This is not over... this story continues, but with other characters and different objectives. -------------------------------------------------- -------------------- Well, we seriously ask that if you are under 14 years old do not read this book, it is a story for adults and teenagers. And also if you are sensitive to insults, black humor, grotesque descriptions, among others. I ask you for discretion. By the way, before you start complaining about things or words that may offend or upset you, we are not doing this to offend or make fun of you, this is for humor purposes and we are basing it on the years 1990-2010. Thank you for your time and for reading. (By the way, if there are any spelling errors, please let us know.)
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Madisyn Connelly, or MC as people called her, considered staring at the wall for the next hour a viable entertainment option. Her life was, to put it mildly, predictable. Wake, work, maybe catch a movie, sleep, repeat. The thrill was gone, replaced by the beige monotony of suburban existence. That's when her phone buzzed. It was a text message from an unknown number: "Hello? Are you there?" Madisyn sighed. Just another wrong number. She typed back, "Wrong number, sorry." and went back to contemplating the life she was living. The reply came instantly: "No matter how I put this, it'll sound crazy. I've gone over this many times in my head." Followed by "Wait a sec. I have to add the others first. Please don't go." Thomas, Cleo, Dan, Richy, Jessy... These names were strangers only moments ago and now resonated with a strange urgency. "We need to ask, How do you know Hannah Donfort?" Madisyn hesitated. She was about to send another dismissive reply, but a flicker of... something... stopped her. Boredom? Curiosity? A subconscious yearning for something more? "I don't know anyone named Hannah," she typed adding a question mark at the end, unsure why she was even bothering. The next text chilled her blood: "Hannah's my girlfriend and she disappeared. Three days ago to be exact." And so began Madisyn's unwanted adventure. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was somehow connected to this Hannah, these people, this desperate plea. Madisyn's heart hammered. Worried texts, Hannah's disappearance, Madisyn's phone number on Hannah's phone... it all pointed to something far more sinister than a simple misunderstanding. The search led her down dark alleys and into smoky bars. She faced threats, endured intimidation, and felt the cold grip of fear more times than she could count. She had discovered that even in the most ordinary of lives, there was the potential for extraordinary courage, love, and power to make a difference. And it all started with the wrong number.

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