#dsaf fic

[veggiefritters]

rogear n harey

[davidthephoneguy]

would y'all like a new javid david fic snippet? (not a dark passage obv)

[henafton]

the real thing william "dave miller" afton ( dsaf ) character study [ davesport ] short fluffy drabble / ficlet wc 768

dave wouldn't say that he's obsessed with jack f. kennedy. that'd be ridiculous. obsession? that doesn't sound like him at all. what's he ever obsessed over? nothing.

nothing, except for the way jack's hue of orange ... changes, sometimes, as if it's been reapplied or touched up, or darkened with the heavy wet rain. he doesn't obsess over anything at all -- not even the way jack's voice is so soft when he's happy, and firm and short when he's upset.

dave miller isn't the type to fixate on anything. and especially not how when jack turns his head just a certain way, there are deep grey-mauve lines that etch into his skin and leave him covered in symmetrical divot scars. dave pretends he doesn't know what that's from.

pretends he isn't marked, too. pretends he remembers how he got the scars to begin with. pretends he cares. pretends he's angry about them. angry at him.

dave definitely doesn't obsess over jack, not even the way his two missing front teeth cause him to whistle when he speaks or laughs -- god, dave loves his laugh; he's so funny -- sometimes. dave is only mildly cautious of the way he holds any of the tools he holds after jack holds them, because sometimes there's orange smudged against the steel and he doesn't want to wipe it away. it's jack. proof he was here, with dave. proof he cared enough to co-inhabit a space beside him. work with him.

... okay. so, maybe dave's a bit obsessed. maybe he likes jack a little more than he cares to admit. maybe he just doesn't mind. maybe he's just happy that for once, someone is kind to him. maybe he's just obsessed with the way that when jack touches him, it's soft and gentle; it holds all of the warmth of henry touch but lacks all of the pain and grief that came afterwards.

it isn't fair to compare jack and henry. it's like comparing pyrite to gold; sometimes, the real thing is just better. he doesn't feel like a fool when he's with jack -- real love is golden and unconditional. he would stray wherever jack went. follow anywhere he leads, so long as he's beside him.

but how can he say it? how -- how can he express a love this vast, yet so unlabeled and free? is it even worth trying to contain? worth trying to express? of course; jack has to know how much he loves him. but how?

it used to be so easy. he's said it before, he knows he has; this isn't the first time he'd be telling jack he loved him. but this time it isn't a passing admiration; this is a brutal confession. these words pin him down and crucify him on a display for jack's judgement and discretion -- one man has the power to free or break him.

now, dave watches jack's lips move; realizes he's been speaking the entire time and remembers they were mid conversation, the moment dave got caught up in his own infatuation. all words are lost to him, still, and now jack stares, waiting for a response. dave has none to offer -- nothing verbal, anyway. instead, he just laughs; he laughs and claps a hand on jack's shoulder. his eyes crinkle and his smile is soft, stretching further than it ever did when it was coaxed by blinding, abrasive fuchsia rather than warm, sunset orange.

in seconds, jack's brow furrows. he's confused, but dave only laughs a little bit harder, so jack smiles, and then he smiles a little bit wider -- and then they're both laughing, and neither can recall what was funny to begin with. and maybe dave got a little teary-eyed somewhere in the middle of it all, because this is what it always should've been.

he doesn't like to compare them, but jack is the kind of man henry should have been. and maybe dave is just a little bit too obsessed with how proud he is of them. of jack for being good, and ... of himself, for finding good.

they calm down and straighten up, and dave retracts his hand from jack's shoulder. the absence is palpable, and so jack takes a step closer. it feels like an answer to the unspoken statement; a silent reassurance.

"were you saying something?" dave asks.

"i don't remember," jack admits with a small smile. there's that tooth gap again; the one that whistles when he laughs the way he just did, with dave. they can take it day by day, linger on the moments as they come.

maybe that's all they need.

[p13rr0t]

Dsaf people I need help finding a fic

I can't remember if it was on Wattpad or AO3 but it was not a oneshot although it could've been among a collection of oneshots

From what I remember it took place after dsaf 3 where somehow Jack was still alive and the flipside characters were also alive and physically real. Davetrap was also there and Henry was talking to him through his mind similar to legacy Jack.

The only scenes I remember is when davetrap kidnaps Dave and tries to kill him but he misses and lethal injects a leather strap, and a davesport kiss scene at new years

Thank you

[stickytrials]

I love Davesport I love davesport I love davesport

Dave sighed- running his fingers down his face as he slowly crawled into bed- well- to be exact- Old sports bed. He had been worried about him and wanted to see if he was alright- of course he was- as it was gambled on a vodka based paranoia where he thought old sports house and bed particularly were going to implode in on itself in the dead of night.

Dave breathed in heavily- feeling himself grow with a strange flurry of emotions. When he was close to Old Sport- his body felt all weird. Maybe even a little warm. Maybe even a little- ready for some game. He swallowed- a creeping grin inching up his face. His breath didn't smell too good- but to be frank- neither did Old Sports. So it was a fair deal.

Dave licked the side of Old sports face- just for a taste. It wasn't too bad- just a tangy decaying flesh rotting on top of a soulless body. It tasted not too bad for that!

Dave content with his actions so far- extended his already very long limbs over to one side of Old Sport- and the other well- on the other side. Dave leaned in close.

"Whattarya dreaming about old sport? Commies? ... Me?" He inquired after a long pause. When all the orange hued man could reply with was a odd empty shell like nose of air escaping his rotting nose hole that showed the inner workings of his body Dave frowned a bit, letting his body sit atop the other man.

"No homo by the way." Dave said- looking up through his black decaying eyes to his partner in crime. Or just his co-worker worked fine too.

"Night, sportsy. See you at work tomorrow, we got lots to..." Dave let himself drift off- feeling oddly calm around sportsy enough to do so. It had been two weeks since he had last slept anyways.

[sillylittlegaymer]

Art for @vincentbeloved1217 ‘s fanfic!!

time taken: 1hr 32mins

(links for fics!) vv

- Wattpad!

- AO3!

[toddellz]

eggplant pizza

[royaldoge7370]

!CW! SUGGESTIVE

Eggplant pizza

[the-acid-pear]

Honestly something I'd love to see in a fanfic is exploring the what if Dave had actually found Henry's tapes. I saw only one fic tap on the possibility and it was just a one-shot mostly focused on Dave being comforted (for the record: it was good, I liked it) but I'd love to read or hell even see a more in depth exploration of the concept.

I want to see purps world be torn apart brick by brick in real time I want to see him go thru the stages of grief I want to see the anger the denial the bargain until he reaches the acceptance and is faced with the fact that he lost his main driving force, since this whole Freddy's thing he was doing for Henry, so what now?

I'd love to see him find a new reason to keep going and I'd love to see him getting the opportunity to heal 👍👍👍

[thefandomdork22]

Lil Prune <3

Meet my interpretation of Prune from the a03 fic “Dave and Old Sport Adopt a Kid”

I love this lil fic so much

The writing, the plot, the way the characters are written…

*Chef’s kiss*

[auberginemanxd]

I must say i haven't give effort on Dave and these are all old ones but here they are 😿

[wario-speedwagon]

Dave and Old Sport Adopt a Kid: Chapter 13

Hello! Happy first birthday to this fic! I can't believe this fic has come this far. Thanks for all who have tagged along for the ride, and I hope you enjoy today's chapter! Full chapter below the cut! <3

Chapter 1 Chapter 12

Chapter 13

“So Scott sure wasn’t happy with us, huh!” Dave finally commented with fake cheerfulness to break the awkward silence that had hung in the air of that dingy car.

It only ended up making the following silence even more awkward than before when there was no reply beyond a deep breath. Jack didn’t have the spoons to start up such forced small talk, not with everything that was on his mind right now.

So seeing that Jack was still staunchly “focused on the road,” Dave went back to rubbing the shoulder of Pruny, who was leaned up against him in the back seat. He could practically feel her trembling.

Despite not really having one, his heart went out to her, as he could tell exactly how she was feeling based on her behavior, if only because it reminded him so much of his own during a “bad day” back in his Henry days.

Now that he thought about it, the way he himself was cradling his own injured eye with his other hand was also just as… nostalgic.

Dave figured it must be an Aubergine trait to keep up such a brave face in spite of it all, as despite being so shaken, there weren’t any more tears he could see. Dave petted her head out of bittersweet pride, to which she responded by readjusting herself more comfortably.

Dave would be content with this bittersweet peace, except unfortunately Pruny’s wellbeing wasn’t the only big concern of his. He couldn’t really take in all the confusion in the heat of the moment, but now that he could properly sit on his unanswered thoughts, the implications of the words exchanged today started to become… rather serious. But only if “Jack” could prove his fears were founded.

So after another couple minutes of sitting in all this uncomfortable nothing, Dave eventually took a shot:

“Hey, so we gonna talk about what happened or…?”

“...U-Uh—”

“...Because the other option would be to keep actin’ like it never happened, and I’m sure as hell not doin’ that.”

“...Later. When we get home.”

“Alright, fair enough I suppose.”

More silence settled in the air, though now with some of the tension broken at least. Dave found himself relishing in how Old Sport called it “going home.” And “going home” how it seemed to naturally include himself and Pruny now. Or maybe he was overthinking things again. Either way, for how much Sportsy played “hard-to-get,” he sure was falling easily into this new family dynamic.

It was good that his family was starting to form on its own, hopefully without further need for intervention. But after the shit that went down today… he couldn’t be too hopeful.

No, this stuff needs to be aired out now. Hiding secrets only ever led to more hurt later on. He learned that lesson from Henry a lot.

“How’s your eye doing?”

“Oh. Probably fine. It’s not the first time it’s been roughed up like this.” Although it was usually a blunt impact from a wrench rather than a scratch, but—

“We should probably take you to a doctor.”

“Hah! In this economy?”

“Okay then, coward, I hope you’re ready to be a pirate if it gets infected though, cuz I don’t have a first aid kit good enough for that.”

“You kiddin’? I’d look badass with an eyepatch!”

“...You might have to retire your kiddie strangling days though.”

…Well that came out of left field. Dave wasn’t comfortable with how serious he sounded either...

He’d never really put much thought into it yet since this all began… If they kept up this whole “family” schtick, then would it make sense to keep up their “kiddie strangling” schtick as well? He hated it, but Sportsy might have a point about that.

…But what if they made Pruny “Kiddie Strangler 3.0” and made a cute murder family? Now that'd be the best of both worlds—he was smiling just imagining it!

Eh, but something told him that Pruny wouldn’t be all that gung-ho about the idea. Even Dave himself hated the idea at first when Henry started with him. What if she warmed up to it though…?

From now on, this won’t be happening again.

Sportsy's earlier words cut through his thoughts. Was he really so willing to give up what they had that easily? Or maybe he didn't really mean it, or he meant something else… Fuck, it had him concerned though. Why was Sportsy such a doormat to that thing, anyway?

That whole scene today had so many questions to dive into.

And while Dave hadn’t quite pieced it together in the moment, he was sure now in hindsight that “Jack Kennedy” was what that thing—”Dee”?—was calling Old Sport. He’d never even considered until then that Old Sport had a name, but now he had to know.

“Jack?”

The orange guy's head tilted accordingly.

“That your name? Jack Kennedy? That’s what she was calling you. And you were callin’ her ‘Dee’—”

“I’ll explain when we get home, Dave, just—please, not right now.”

“Okay.”

“...But yeah, that is my name.”

“Huh…” Dave wasn’t sure if he’d be used to him having a real name.

But still: it seemed that the bright side of today would be that Old Sport was finally going to really open up to him about everything!

You don't even remember what you did to Jack Kennedy. And apparently neither does he.

…Okay, maybe he was feeling a just a little bit intimidated to unpack all that.

...Even more so now that he just remembered the name Dee Kennedy. And which of his victims it belonged to.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Violet, meanwhile, had been tuning out their occasional muffled conversation and reliving her experiences that day.

The puppet had been so nice and fun to her! Was it genuine, or was that thing really dangerous?

You were on your way out. Leave the kid alone, comprende?...

…Prune, get out of here.

The way Dave fiercely threatened that thing while Jack nervously negotiated with it, the way it tried to keep her from them and the way Jack pushed her to escape…

She didn’t know what conclusions to draw from all that except that they were not good, not at all. The puppet and them were clearly old enemies somehow. And right before she and the Phone Guy came back into the room, she barely yet certainly heard Jack shouting something inside, and Dave was on the ground covering his face like it was hurt once they entered. Dave was still nursing that injury right now next to her…

She wished she would have been able to tell what the puppet was apparently saying to them so she’d not be so hopelessly in the dark about what had just occurred.

Was this all her fault for running off with it? Did she cause this? Did she get Dave hurt? Is there something she could have done to make them not fight? Or would things have at least gone better if she’d just hurried up and spat out what she needed to say sooner to the Phone Guy—!

She realized she'd worked herself up again when she felt tears forming in her eyes again, so she tried to stop the what-ifs. But just after her breath hitched, she felt a giant hand pat her head again, knocking those tears loose down her face, before his hand returned to her shoulder again. She still tried to fight the urge to cry, but once her breath hitched a second time, she instead just let it all happen. And she heard Dave take notice as he softly cooed something in comfort to her (not that she could see what he said) while he hugged her tighter against him.

This... This was a new feeling. She'd never felt... good crying before... Was that even allowed?

...No. With them, she decided dumb rules like that didn't even matter.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The loud sound of the entrance doors closing reverberated through the dark and empty dining room, almost like some old, empty cathedral. Scott fumbled with his ring of jingling keys before finding the right one which he then inserted and turned to lock up the entrance, filling the haunting silence behind him with more echoing clicks.

And then he sighed loudly because no one could hear him but these walls. Well, in theory anyway. Because that puppet was still unaccounted for, and was frankly only the second greatest source of his stress right now.

First place of course went to the police investigation, the missing children scandal, the distraught parents he'd faced, all of it weighing heavily on his mind. It was unbearable, simultaneously hoping a solid lead came out of it for their sakes while actively fearing the fulfillment of that same exact hope for his own sake.

But then on top of that, there was the whole Jack, Dave and puppet fiasco, and it was putting so many extra thoughts on his mind, thoughts he just didn’t have the headspace to handle right now. Words replaying in his head repeatedly—

And you, Dee. I know you have no reason to believe me ever again— Save it, Jack. I’m not interested in what you have to say anymore. Dee, just listen to me— You listen to ME, Jack Kennedy! Dee— —Jack Kennedy! Dee—! —Kennedy!

The names especially kept repeating ad nauseum. For such few words he overheard, they haunted Scott incessantly. They agitated so many memories and images in his head that didn’t belong in his wiring—

His orange employee who recently knelt down comforting a purple child—except somehow that image felt like a much older memory than just a mere day ago… no, was it a different child maybe? But then why would Jack be there? Why would Jack be in his old memories? Or was it someone else he was being reminded of? ...Yeah, someone decidedly less orange, probably. But then why does he have the same last name as himself—a-as Peter? There’s simply no way that could…

...So does Jack know Peter? Is that the conclusion to draw? Does that puppet!? Because they clearly knew each other somehow with how they talked—Dee, that was its name? Dee?... Dee… Dee… Dee…Kennedy? Did that last name fit there too? Maybe it might but he couldn't be sure either way.

The puppet… is still out there hiding somewhere… Could he…

…ask it?

...Did he want to?

Either way, he had to find it to contain it and prevent Freddy’s from having any more reasons to shut down.

Knowing the puppet was maybe a person of some sort, though, that course of action felt kind of… wrong…

No, Scott didn't have time for such ethical quandries in these dire times. He reached for his flashlight and began his search. It was certainly daunting, both because that thing could be lurking anywhere, and depending on its mood, it could be any level of dangerous if he was caught unaware.

Then again, death by puppet was probably far more favorable than the “proper” way for a Phone Guy to go…

Scott decided he hadn’t checked the ballpit in a while today, so he made that his first search destination. As he approached the door for that room, though, a chilling whisper from behind him stopped him in his tracks:

“You’re looking for me, aren’t you?”

He immediately turned, and the flashlight beam revealed a damaged puppet standing amongst the dining tables just two rows away.

“I-I suppose I am, yes.”

“To put me back in my box, right?”

“I can't have you causing any more trouble for me.”

“Do I have to stay in there?

…I have no desire to hurt anyone you know.”

“Th-That’s not what I saw there in the Saferoom.”

“Those two were different. They’re murderers.”

Scott had suspected that a fair bit, actually, but it was still chilling to hear that seemingly confirmed. Dave was obvious, but perhaps after seeing how Jack was with that girl, he’d started to dismiss his previous doubts with him. He didn't remember Jack being like Dave—

“‘Dee,’ was it? Do you know Jack?”

“I do.”

“How so?”

“He was my brother.”

“Your brother?”

“I’m not a robot, Scott. I’m the soul of Dee Kennedy.”

Uncertainty was finally clearing up as things started clicking into place.

“And that makes him Jack Kennedy, then?”

“Naturally.”

But as addicting as the straightforward answers were, he still hesitated to get to the crux of his questions.

“... …Was there a Peter Kennedy as well?”

“Peter? He was our older brother. Why?”

That confirmed it. It was so obvious now that he knew for sure; Peter did have something like siblings, didn't he? Of course he did!

“Do you know Peter?”

“...Sort of? …This is going to sound strange because it is, but… I have several of his memories rattling around in my memory banks for some reason.”

“Memories? Like what?” she asked with sudden alert interest.

“It’s… Well, a lot of them involve a wife named Caroline. She’s in most of them. Her, and his job at Freddy’s before he died. Oh, and a kind of pinkish man, the guy that killed him. He and Peter both keep showing up in my nightmares lately…”

The puppet was perked up over something he said, though remained silent for a while. But then it eventually cut the silence, bursting with:

“Your ring, you have a wedding ring, right?”

“Y-Yeah, of course, I do have a wife besides Caroline…”

“Take it off! Is there any writing on the inside!?”

“U-Uh, hold on a sec…?” Scott did as told. After sliding it off, he carefully held the flashlight up to it at an angle where he could inspect the inside of it. After a few moments, he did notice some fancy etched calligraphy.

…

His heart skipped a beat.

“Does it say something like ‘Peter, lawful husband of Caroline’?”

“How do you know that!?”

“Because I was there when you picked it out! And you were so annoying when you made sure everyone saw it!”

Peter’s eyes were still glued to the golden ring he was holding, still in awe that such an answer had been on his finger this whole time, so he didn’t even notice her rapidly approaching—

“Woah—!”

—for a hug.

“It IS you! It’s you, Peter, isn’t it!?”

“...” He couldn't bring himself to reciprocate the hug.

“...Isn’t it?”

“... I don’t know. Just because I… have his ring… there's countless other ways I could end up with his ring. Because I-I’m Scott Cawthon. I have my own life, my own family, my own memories—”

“—But you have Peter’s memories!”

“It’s probably a programming fluke—”

“No way!” she whined.

“Puppet, it’s time you returned to your box,” he said coldly, unwrapping her rope-like limbs from their embrace.

“No! Not unless you tell me that you’re Peter!”

“...” He simply couldn't keep eye contact with her anymore.

“Please! Peter, I haven’t seen you in so long!”

“... Good night, Miss Puppet. Behave yourself, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“No!”

Scott turned to make his exit.

Stringy arms immediately wrapped around him from behind again, holding him back.

“Dee—”

“That’s right, I’m Dee! Your baby sister! You raised me yourself, you and Jack!”

“That’s enough, Dee, please let me go.”

“No! Please don’t leave me, not again!”

Peter’s heart shattered.

“Please!”

…No, he saw no other recourse than to just make a run for it, and with enough force that he broke free from her grasp.

“Don’t go! Please!” the child wailed behind him, abandoning her dignity. He wished this was only the first time he'd heard that wailing, because he couldn't help her this time—

His heart was racing—he fumbled through the keys again once he reached the locked entrance while the Puppet rapidly followed him; when she arrived—

“Dee, enough.” A different voice came out of him, and with enough desperate sternness that she stopped immediately in her tracks.

“Peter... that’s your voice…”

“Goodnight, Dee,” he firmly reiterated, switching back to the voicebox like nothing happened.

“No!” she protested one last time—

His cold, sweaty hands turned the key and quickly pushed the door open to leave as fast as he could— ...and then firmly pressing his back against the outside building wall which he started to slide down, he attempted to soothe a panic attack he didn't realize he was having until now.

At this rate, his brain was going to fry.

(Chapter 14)->

[davidthephoneguy]

MMMMMM David Javid art again

TW gore, blood and cannibalism @thygoddessouijathicc for basically making Javid

I can’t explain how the scene fits in the fic or its importance with spoiling my plans but it will make sense once I write it :3

i might link to the chapter when i get it done which will take forever with my schedule of finishing chapters lol.

[thygoddessouijathicc]

The Jack Empathy Essay

So I was writing another essay and it wasn’t great, but there was one thing that I feel like I do want to talk about, Jack Kennedy and his supposed lack of empathy.

Why does Jack not really care too much about his siblings, why does he ally with Henry in the bad route of the third game, and most importantly (shockingly not kidding) why is his relationship with Dave the key to all of this.

Spoilers ahead!

So let’s get this out of the way. Jack does not lack empathy, contrary to the title this essay aims to prove he DOES have it, just not towards most people.

You may be saying I’m crazy right now, of course he lacks empathy, why else would he be this way? Well I’d actually argue Jack just doesn’t COMPREHEND empathy or understand fully how to naturally show it to people he doesn’t know.

Here is my thesis: The Jack in the games is not Jack, he’s something else inhabiting Jack’s body which has his mind in there, but in a sort of fuzzy retrospective way. He knows everything the real Jack knew but he doesn’t understand it. There’s a communication error in his Jack memories to his mind which causes him to not fully grasp anything other than a general sense of the concepts of what he should be doing and feeling.

This is a weird take to say the least, but it’s not like it makes no sense with what we’re given. In fact almost everything in the games seems to support this. When Blackjack declares himself the true Jack, he doesn’t disagree, at all. He knows he isn’t Jack, he never could be. He’s not even really human. Like at all. 

Jack has slitted pupils, I’ve analyzed before the glowing eyes, but I focused on how they dilated and why Dave has such weird ones. I never really gave Jack’s weirdly inhuman cat eyes another thought, but thinking of it now, with this idea in mind and the fact Henry, who is stated to be human, doesn’t have this, it looks weird. These eyes prove that whatever he is, he’s not just an undead human, there’s something in there, it’s not a soul, or at least probably isn’t, but it’s something. 

Now let’s talk about family. 

Jack doesn’t care about them. Well he DOES, but only surface level caring. He cares in a way that feels like he just thinks he’s supposed to. Jack cares because real Jack cared. He doesn’t know why beyond that they are family, and he has and will gladly sacrifice all of them. Not because he can’t have empathy, but because in his mind, he at least subconsciously knows that they’re strangers. 

Ok, you say, but how does this prove he CAN care. Well for that, let’s take a look at the good end to the third game. Jack lies to his family, it hurts sure, but he doesn’t really have a serious moral panic doing it, but then he gets to Dave, and he can’t lie. Jack can’t bring himself to lie to Dave for one reason or another. Not only does he ONLY tell Dave the truth, but he also basically declares his love and gives Dave “his” soul. Some think Jack wanted Dave to tell, but it doesn’t feel that way, it feels like he didn’t overly care if the others knew, only if Dave knew. Dave is the only one he wanted to know the truth. Jack can and does show empathy. 

Why Dave though? Why not his family? Well as I said, his family are glorified strangers that he feels obligated to like without truly understanding why… Dave… isn’t. Jack genuinely knows and has a relationship with Dave, platonic or otherwise, he’s the only one he shows empathy because unlike the others, liking Dave doesn’t feel like an obligation. It’s an actual relationship he had and developed that he knows fully and fully comprehends. 

Now let’s talk about Henry. Why does Legacy take his side? It’s the same reason he doesn’t care more than a surface level about his family and does care about Dave. Jack knows he’s supposed to hate Henry but doesn’t feel a full motivation to beyond that he’s a bad person who killed the original Jack as well as Dee. He hates him, but not to an extreme level. So if he hates Fredbear, is ok with murder, wants a legacy, and doesn’t have more than a surface level hatred of Henry, well, if Henry talks to him he becomes super easy to manipulate because almost all their goals and opinions line up, to him, he doesn’t know Henry, not really, so it’s really not hard to side with him, he does the same with Dave who he knows was involved in his sister’s death so he’s done this before. 

So if this is the case, what about the fight with Henry? Well, in that case, he opposes all his beliefs and goals, and cares about morals so he hates him, when he finds out everything fully and sees it’s effects on others, probably especially Dave given as I’ve said, he ONLY cares about Dave truly, so the faux hatred becomes real hatred.

The only characters without prompting from others he’s ever hated (besides Matt) are Steven and Fredbear. And this actually makes a lot of sense. Steven is mean to him, and thus he doesn’t like him, even understanding the complexities of phone guy’s he still dislikes him by default because as stated, Jack only cares if it happened to him in his life, he never truly shows a distaste for phone guys as a concept without player prompting, so it’s fair to say he’s neutral on them or might not even fully understand. He doesn’t care why Steven is like this, only that he was mean.

Next is Fredbear, and why he hates him in the bad route is clear, Fredbear could solve all of this himself but doesn’t, and instead revives a rotting corpse in this weird state to do it for him. Blackjack did in a day what Fredbear failed to do in years, and Jack feels like he’s a casualty who suffers because Fredbear simply doesn’t want to do things himself.

Now let’s talk about the murdered kids. Does he care? No. Jack understands he should and generally why, but it feels more like an inconvenience to him, if not something he wants to indulge in himself. Yet another case that hints to Jack not really understanding the world around him.

I’d say Jack is like an adult man with the moral understanding of an 8 year old. He knows right from wrong but he doesn’t understand right from wrong. He’s very much an adult but has this weird thing where it’s almost like he were never actually taught good vs bad beyond that people think it exists, he doesn’t know what the words mean, just one is liked, one isn’t. So he has no qualms about doing bad things because he doesn’t know what bad means.

Now I may be, and probably am really off base. At the very least this theory is around the same weirdness level of Lizard Dave, maybe even Frogry. But I think it makes some sense.

And hey, at the very least it makes a cool fanfic concept.

Essay over, begone.

[miss-maam-ava]

@an-artist-place-for-extra-art and @wario-speedwagon ‘s Davesport kids

[dogboyjackkennedy]

yippee!! Jack's no longer dead!!

we also get to see Blackjack's creation :]