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William Afton ([personal profile] terriblething) wrote2016-03-11 08:18 pm

(book canon) guidelines to keep in mind

1. Socially awkward loner
Dave does not talk to people on a regular basis. He is the kind of person who ignores a cashier in the checkout lane who asks him how his day has been and just wordlessly hands them his credit card.

Since Freddy's closed and "William Afton" became "Dave Miller", a lot has changed in his life. Please note, it isn't that Dave can't be social. It's clear Freddy's was a successful business (Charlie mentions that "everyone" went to Freddy's in its heyday), and William was the co-owner (and probably the sole business mind) behind the company. He is described multiple times as "affable" and even friendly. However, in ten years, this need to be outgoing and social is no longer necessary, and Dave dropped it. It's likely he never really enjoyed it in the first place.

He's not the greatest night guard. When seeing teens trying to sneak around into Freddy's at night, it's only on the third occasion that Dave physically stops them - the first two times he attempts instead into scaring them off by letting them know he's there, hoping to proceed without a direct confrontation. He's not at all afraid of a confrontation, but he wants to avoid actually speaking to anyone. Socialization is not something he cares for, and his ability to do it has really deteriorated over time.

He would probably feel a lot more comfortable talking to children or interacting as "Bonnie". Which brings me to a second point:

2. Stress-induced dissociation
This is a fancy way of saying extreme stress causes Dave to shut down, but his shut downs are really, really intense - so much so that Charlie has to check his pulse to make sure he didn't die. This could potentially happen for any number of reasons but in text, the most stressful situation we see Dave in is when he's rendered helpless and immobile, and suddenly confronted with a group of four teenagers. He goes completely limp, unable to even move or focus his eyes on his own, until Charlie retrieves a literal mask for him to wear. (More on this later.) Having power in a situation is a huge deal to Dave, and any perceived loss of it causes large amounts of stress to him that can result in a loss of self or inability to connect with himself.

3. A need to be seen as powerful and skilled, or be admired
When first intruding in the trip to Freddy's with Charlie and her friends, Dave makes an attempt to act like he's not as connected with the restaurant as he is, likely because he wants to keep a low profile - but even the threat of being connected to his previous crimes can't trump the desire to be seen as impressive and skilled by a bunch of teenagers he does not know:
In the booth, Jessica was hunched over, pressing buttons, and Lamar was studying the control board, trying to make sense of it. Dave peered intently over their shoulders, watching. He was nodding slightly to himself, wrapped up in some private calculation, and when Jessica stepped back and stretched, he cleared his throat.

"Um," he said. "Could I try?" He drew himself up a little, extending his arm graciously.

Jessica and Lamar exchanged glances, then shrugged.

"Why not?" Jessica said. They shuffled around so that he could reach the board, and he stared down at it for a long moment without moving, then touched a short series of buttons. A hum rose from the speakers, a long, low tone that did not waver.

"Whoa," Jessica said and pointed to the monitors. Charlie saw movement on the screen and backed out of the control room to look for herself. Onstage, the animals were dancing. Crudely, awkwardly, without the grace or complexity Charlie remembered, but they were moving in sequences, not just one motion at a time.

Charlie went back to the control room but did not go beyond the door.

"How did you do that?" she snapped, not caring if it was rude. Dave raised his hands in the air.

"Beginner's luck," he said. "I just pressed some buttons."

[. . .]
In the control room, Dave had his hands on the buttons, his fingers wandering lightly over them without pressing anything. The movement looked careless, instinctual, like a habit. Charlie leaned close to John.

"He's been here before," she whispered. "Look at the way he touches the controls."

"Maybe he's just good with computers," John offered, not sounding convinced.

"Can you make them dance again?” Jessica asked. Dave barely seemed to acknowledge the question. His mouth hung slightly open, and he seemed to be staring at something none of them could see. In the bright lights, they could all see that his uniform was grubby and torn in places, his face poorly shaven and his eyes a little unfocused. He looked less like a guard than a vagrant, and he looked at them all as if he had wandered in ages ago and they were the newcomers. It took him a moment to register the question.

"Sure, let's see what we can do," he said. He smiled at her, his mouth askew. His eyes were a little too intent on her face, holding her gaze just a little too long. Jessica swallowed, seized with an instinctive revulsion, but she smiled back politely.

"All right," Dave said. "I've been here a few times before; I think I can work some magic."

Charlie and John exchange glances.

"You've been here before?" John said in a careful, even tone, but Dave ignored him, or did not hear.

There was a keypad to the far left of the control board that no one had touched yet, as it did not appear to be connected to anything. Now Dave reached for it and began to press the buttons quickly, as if he had done it a hundred times before. He gave Jessica a conspiratorial glance. "For special occasions, you can request a dance." He smiled at her again with that crooked intensity.

"Great," Jessica said, breathing a sigh of relief. Anything to get out of such forced proximity to this man.

He even immediately goes back on his (implied) story and says he's been there before, not seeming to realize the implication or care what kind of questions this could open him up to. The need for admiration in that moment is so powerful that he doesn't even think his actions through.

If Dave has information, he'll make sure to give it, even if this will make those around him question how he knows these things - he delights in knowing what others don't, and has to make sure he explains it to them - first, with the history of what happened to Freddy's after its closure; second, with the workings of the spring lock suits, which he makes sure to take time to explain to Carlton in graphic detail. It's almost a pathological need to do whatever he can to make those around him think he's skilled, intelligent, and powerful.

But it's important to remember: this is a need he has, but it's not reality, and everyone he comes into contact with knows it, almost immediately.

4. Dave is not a badass.
He's a loser. People feel immediately uncomfortable around him, don't want to be around him, and even in his moments where he feels most powerful, the text goes out of its way to assure us he is not intimidating:
Dave appeared in the doorway, his head held high and his face grim. It should have been imposing, but he just looked like a man walking through a door.

On meeting him for the first time, everyone in the group is immediately put-off by him, and no one is surprised when he turns out to be the person responsible for the ensuing awfulness. To write him having actual intimidation (at least in his human form - any Springtrap-esque AU is probably different) is a definite mistake. (Although, to children he probably would be intimidating, this isn't exactly an accomplishment - it's likely that Dave doesn't at all appreciate that he's not seen as terrifying and powerful by adults as he is by children he's about to kill.) This isn't to say Dave isn't and can't be terrifying, but the difference is that he's not intimidating or scary on his own. It's the knife in his hand, or the trap he's got you in, that is scary. On his own he is not, and never will be, the "cool scary badass bad guy" trope.

5. The security blanket
It's interesting that Dave seems to need to be wearing the Spring Bonnie costume in some capacity to be able to push through his stress mentioned in point #2 and interact with the group. This is a newer development, but not exactly unsurprising - it's not a leap of logic to assume that William wore the Spring Bonnie suit with some level of frequency at Fredbear's Family Diner, and he built some level of association between a more sociable, energetic personality and "the Bonnie suit" in his head.
Dave continued to stare, and it was only after a moment that Charlie considered that he might actually be staring at something. She turned, following his line of sight, then suddenly she recoiled. On the table along the wall sat a rabbit's head.

"That's it? You want that?" Charlie stood and approached the mask. "You need this?" she added in a whisper. She picked it up carefully, the light catching the edges of the spring locks that filled the mascot head. She picked it up and carried it almost ceremoniously to Dave, who tipped his head down in a barely noticeable fashion.

As soon as Charlie puts the Bonnie head on Dave, his entire demeanor changes from anything he's shown previously:
The voice came from inside the mask, but it was not Dave's, not the pitiful, sour tone they would have recognized. The voice of the rabbit was smooth and rich, almost musical. It was confident, somehow reassuring—a voice that might convince you of almost anything. Dave cocked his head to the side, and the mask shifted so that only one of his bulbous eyes could peer through the sockets.

It's very possible that Dave would not be capable of killing without the Spring Bonnie suit.

6. Not above lying
Something interesting is that Dave at one point states there's no way out of Freddy's, but this is almost certainly impossible.
"How do we get out?" Charlie placed one hand on the mascot head and pushed it back into position on Dave's shoulders. The fur felt wet and sticky, as though the costume itself were sweating.

"There isn't a way out anymore. All that's left is family."

He definitely has some other way to get into the pizzeria. Dave knows where Freddy's is, has the keys to each door inside the place, and admits to Charlie that he wanted to go inside, so considering he's working night guard at the place Freddy's is, it's certain he's been inside at some point in the last ten years (particularly because he's not at all surprised when the animatronics are clearly haunted). He can't have taken the door Charlie and her friends take:
The door extended all the way to the floor, its bottom ragged and unfinished. The hinges were on the other side, and the edges were caked in rust. It looked as though it had not been opened in years.

Especially considering we're told it takes four teenagers to open:
"Wait..." Charlie ran her fingers along the edge of a shelf, peering through the odds and ends crammed onto it. The wall behind it looked different; it was metal, not brick. "Right here." She stepped back and looked at the others. "Help me move it." John and Jessica pressed against one side in a unified effort, and she and Carlton pulled on the other. It was immensely heavy, laden with cleaning supplies and large buckets of nails and tools, but it slid farther down the hall almost easily, without incident.

(And the book seems to really like bringing up how weak and thin Dave is, so I don't think he's moving that on his own.) Later on, the door gets sealed: first with chains:
"What?!" Jason wailed, and they all looked up from the spill. He was pointing at the door.

"What is this?" Marla gasped. The door had chains strung across it from top to bottom, three enormous padlocks holding them all together. The links were bolted into the metal frame of the door, and they were heavy, too heavy to cut without special tools. It was all rusty; the whole thing looked as though it had been there for years. Charlie walked up to the door and touched a chain, as if to be sure it was real.

"This wasn’t here," she said, the words sounding inane even as she spoke.

and then soldered:
"He's here, he has to be here!" Marla cried, staring despairingly at the door to Freddy's. She was clasping and unclasping her hands, the knuckles going white. Charlie watched her helplessly. There was nothing to say. The door was no longer covered in chains; instead it was simply no longer a door. It had been welded over; the metal was melted seamlessly into the frame, and the hinges were gone, covered in crude, patchy solder. They all stared, not fully able to comprehend what they were looking at. Charlie shifted her feet. She had stepped in a puddle as they hurried from the car, and now her shoes and socks were soaked and freezing. It seemed unforgivable to be focused on her own discomfort in such a moment, but she could not stop her attention from drifting to it.

"This is insane," Marla said, her mouth agape. "Who does this?" She threw up her hands in frustration. "Who does something like that?" She was almost shouting. "Someone did that! Someone welded this shut. What if Jason is in there?"

Yet Dave is able to continue being inside the pizzeria, meaning he must have some other way in. I'm not sure what this is, but almost immediately after telling Charlie there's no way out of Freddy's, he turns around and says this:
"Well, then you're trapped too, and you're not going to be hurting anyone else," John said in response to the veiled threat.

"I don't have to," Dave answered. "When it gets dark, they will awaken; the children's spirits will rise. They will kill you. I'll just walk out in the morning, stepping over your corpses, one by one." He looked at each of them in turn, as if relishing the bloody scene.

Weirdly, no one calls him out on this whole "There's no way out", then immediate "I'm going to walk out in the morning" thing. I think it's safe to say Dave is not, in any way, a trustworthy source of information.

7. A note about Henry...
Dave is weird when we get on the subject of Henry, the animatronic engineer who created Freddy and the gang and his co-owner of the pizzeria. The literal evidence found in his apartment probably sums it up best:
And he had killed the children. Clay knew it; the whole department knew it. He had been present for each abduction, and he had mysteriously and briefly vanished at the same time as each child went missing. A search of his house had found a room crammed with boxes of mechanical parts and a musty yellow rabbit suit, as well as stacks of journals full of raving paranoia, passages about Henry that ranged from wild jealousy to near-worship.

As established, Dave has a desperate need for recognition, but interestingly enough, when it comes to talking about the restaurant he co-owned, he doesn't take all the credit, instead bringing up Henry and attributing things to him:
"That's a very old costume, one of the first ones Henry made. You can trip these spring locks very, very easily, if you don't know what you're doing," Dave went on. "It takes almost no movement at all."

"Henry?" Carlton said, trying to focus on what he was being told. He could still hear the snap, as if it had lodged in his head like a song that kept repeating. I'm going to die, he thought for the first time since waking. This man will kill me, I will die, and then what? Will anyone even know? He set his jaw and met Dave's eyes. "Who's Henry?"

"Henry," Dave repeated. "Your friend Charlie's father." He looked surprised. "Did you not know that he made this place?"

Dave says "he made this place," instead of "we made this place," even though that's actually more accurate. Freddy's is incredibly special and important to Dave - it's not that he's distancing himself from Freddy's, but rather that he's elevating Henry above himself.

Given how other people saw Henry, this is interesting:
Afton seemed like the normal one in the venture, the businessman. Henry was the artist; he always seemed to be off in another world, some part of his mind thinking about his mechanical creatures even when he was holding a conversation about the weather or the kids' soccer games. There was something off about Henry, something almost shell-shocked; it seemed like a miracle that he could have produced a child as apparently normal as Charlie. [...] William Afton was the one who made Freddy's a business, as he had the previous restaurant. Afton was as robust and lively as Henry was withdrawn and shadowy. [...] Clay picked up a picture from the pile; it had been taken, framed, from the wall of Henry’s office at the restaurant. It was a picture of the two of them together, Henry and William, grinning into the camera in front of the newly opened Freddy Fazbear's. He stared at it; he had stared at it before. Henry's eyes did not quite match his smile. The expression looked forced, but then, it always did.

Henry is not a normal person to be jealous of or to idolize - he's awkward, unusual, withdrawn. To Dave, though, Henry is everything he admires - skilled, even somehow powerful to him. Henry can give life, but Dave only takes it away. I'm not entirely sure if he actually sees it that way, but it's certainly an interesting parallel.

Killing Sammy, for Dave, was a way to try to take something away from Henry, but it seems like the way he viewed Henry did not change.

Even so, Dave seems to think he helped Henry too:
"My dad trusted you," Charlie said. She was on her knees now, looking intently at the rabbit's face. "What did you do to him?" Her voice broke.

"I helped him create." The voice came from inside the mask, but it was not Dave's, not the pitiful, sour tone they would have recognized. The voice of the rabbit was smooth and rich, almost musical. It was confident, somehow reassuring—a voice that might convince you of almost anything. Dave cocked his head to the side, and the mask shifted so that only one of his bulbous eyes could peer through the sockets.

"We both wanted to love," he said in those melodious tones. "Your father loved. And now I have loved."

It's possible that Dave believes killing Sammy helped Henry, to love his remaining child more intensely, to create more animatronics, to work harder.

This is, of course, an incredibly fucked up line of thought.



The comments to this entry are pretty much all the parts Dave is in (a few small stuff is left out that I didn't think was worth much), mainly for my records.