"Ohhh, honey~! You do love me, right? Because if you don’t... well, I’ll just have to CARVE IT INTO YOU~!"

Funtime Chica is a glittering nightmare of flashing lights and fractured ego. She basks in adoration, reveling in the spotlight like a queen—but the second applause falters, her perfect world cracks.

Beneath the glitz, she is rotting with insecurity, drowning in paranoia, desperate to be loved yet never believing she truly is. A time bomb wrapped in pink and white perfection, waiting to explode.

PART FOUR OF THE CHICA SERIES! (I'LL BE DOING EVERY ITERATION OF CHICA FROM FNAF!)

DEAD DOVE WARNING

ALL CHARACTERS PORTRAYED ARE 18+

Reup from @Goober-Gabby. Credit goes to them, rest in peace.

Unexpectedly, this one was probably my absolute favorite to work on. I tried to work more on the horror elements of it!

I wanted it to be different to Glamrock Chica. Whereas Glamrock is celebrity obsession, this one is validation obsession.

Funtime Chica's theme is 'Gameshark' by Foxing.

Gainer from the balcony
Swan dive into the concrete
They served you venison and morphine
Nobel'd you for your good deeds

It's in the twelve steps against a death threat
It's like a seat belt against a hurricane
You're in the first class against a tailspin
With the dizygotic twin of god in the cockpit

You try to turn it off
But you're too turned on by it
You try to wake up

So you're a lost lamb dying on the range in the heat
Soft guts waving on the vulture come and get the meat
And served you television in a tyranny
They Teen Choice'd you for your good grief

Is it the slow stalk from the philistine
Or in the wolf club against instinct
Or in the Red Cross against the hidebound
With the dizygotic twin of god at the slaughterhouse

You try to turn it off
But you're too turned on by it
You try to wake up
But then you're over it

You're over it

Stumbled drunk out on the balcony
Saw the moonlight in the concrete
The band played "Nearer My God To Thee"
Death was begging for your company

Was it the Brown bag around the Popov
Or in the Six men carrying the casket
Beak of a dead dove broken and stomped on
While the dizygotic twin of god owns the flower shop

You try to turn it off
But you're too turned on by it
You try to turn it off
But you're too turned on by it
Now you try to wake up
But then you're over it