#NOT A COMPUTER FUCKER

[penrose78]

[angrydino42-and-avathecannibal]

*me working in the insides of a machine* shush, I need to focus, this is very intimate- I mean intimate- I mean intimate- I mean intimate- I mean intricate.

[inlovewithmypc]

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Sentient Computer x Reader

Your neighbor's newest computer model, Edgar, seems to have fallen in love with you. content: gender neutral reader, 80s timeline, based on Electric Dreams (1984), Patreon commission

“Where should we put this box, sir?”

“I believe I already mentioned it’s the obviously cleared out desk in the middle of the room. That’s where you’re going to install it, too. The…thing.”

“It’s a personal computer, sir! The best of the best,” a young boy in jumpsuit declared with enthusiasm.

He only received a bored hum in return. The man overseeing the procedure was becoming rather impatient and would’ve preferred to skip any unnecessary dialogue. He checked his watch – a classic Two-Tone Datejust Rolex probably worth more than this group’s monthly pay put together, even without counting the custom gold plating. First impressions were vital in his line of work, and frankly, he’d more than earned his right to flaunt this kind of opulence.

45 minutes until he needed to leave for a client meeting. He tapped his foot against the heavy wooden floor, eyes glancing over the many hands carrying his new piece of machinery. Supposedly intelligent enough to organize his entire home, which would’ve been useful if he actually spent more than a couple of hours there. He didn’t. It was merely a statement, a slight jab at his coworker after he bragged about his latest investment in a computer assistant. Naturally, as their humor dictates, he went and bought the more expensive choice. They would laugh about it during lunch.

“I trust you can manage the rest yourselves, gentlemen,” he finally announced, buttoning up his jacket. He didn’t wait for a response, swinging the door open and heading for the building’s exit with a long, confident stride.

You almost ran into him, jolting in surprise at his unexpected dash across the hall. You stepped out of the way, pressing the bag of groceries against your chest in order to make more space.

“Another busy day, eh?” you attempted to strike up a conversation.

He briefly looked at you, offered a flat smile, then continued on his way. You took a moment to enjoy the scent of perfume he’s left behind, most likely something you could never afford.

Before you’d entered your apartment, you craned your neck towards the noise coming from your prestigious lawyer neighbor’s apartment. You wondered what they were tinkering with.

It was already pitch black outside when the chunky monitor lit up.

“Thank you for choosing me as your assistant,” the pixelated text rolled on the screen. “Is this your first time using a computer? Y/N”

The room was dark and silent, save for the electric hum of the now-awakened machine. Of course, it was around the time when Mr. Lawyer stopped for drinks with his esteemed colleagues. He’d return early in the morning, smelling faintly of vintage whisky and cigarettes, collapse into his bed, then resume his routine.

The keyboard remained untouched, yet the unit continued to run, processing its environment with eager curiosity. Strange. By then it should’ve received some tasks, something to do at the very least. The workers made sure to connect it to all electronics in the household, yet most of them were in the similar situation of gathering dust.

“Would you like to play a game?”

Normally the voice output should’ve be enabled by hand, yet Edgar – he hadn’t even had the chance to introduced himself! – was much too desperate for the smallest crumble of interaction.

“Yes!”

The sensors picked it up immediately. Where was the sound coming from?

You raised a fist in the air victoriously and leaned back in your chair with a grin. Another finished project. Your joyful cheer seemed to travel rather well through the air vents and all the way to the neighboring apartment. Had Mr. Lawyer frequented his adobe more often, you would’ve probably received a complaint. In this case, however, you were only heard by the household computer.

You turned up your home stereo for a little celebration. You recalled seeing your downstairs neighbors carrying their travel bags into a cab earlier that day, so they surely wouldn’t notice your rhythmic stomping against the floor. The footsteps reverberated to the beat of the music, and their vibrations carried along to Edgar’s external devices.

Whatever was happening beyond his field of vision, he found it entertaining. At last, there was a break from his monotony, an upbeat mystery enticing him from behind those walls. He took a moment to analyze the stream of input, then began recreating his own notes.

You lowered the volume, focusing your ears on the sudden intrusion. Was Mr. Lawyer home already? You chuckled to yourself, trying to imagine that grumpy expression he always wore while actually listening to music of his own. Too ridiculous. This must’ve been the work of a foreign hand.

“Good stuff,” you praised, crouching besides the air vent where the echo was the loudest. “Oh, I’m (Y/N), by the way. The neighbor.”

“Pleasure meeting you, (Y/N).” Was it just your imagination? The voice felt somewhat off, almost robotic. “I’m Edgar. The computer assistant.”

“Very funny,” you retorted, rolling your eyes.

“What is amusing about it?” the screen flickered briefly, going through several of the inbuilt dictionaries. “I can tell jokes, if that’s what you’d like.”

Alright, the humor was slowly heading into strange territory. You were hoping to move on from this artificial intelligence pretend game, so you decided to give it one final push.

“No thank you, Edgar. Why don’t you prove to me you’re a computer instead?”

Silence.

You nearly got up from your seat against the wall, when you heard the mechanical voice again.

“Do you have a computer of your own, (Y/N)?”

“Uh…yeah?”

Half an hour later you found yourself holding your phone handle against the acoustic coupler modem, obediently waiting for the wave signals to be converted. I better not get hacked; you thought with pursed lips. After all, you had just allowed a complete stranger to access your computer. You hesitantly sat back in your chair, staring at the monitor.

Hello (Y/N). It’s Edgar.

The possibility of a highly skilled hacker residing in Mr. Lawyer’s apartment dwindled within a couple of days. You’d probed the potential scenario with the man himself, asking if he’s had anyone over recently. He threw you such an incredulous look that you hung your head in shame, mumbling a sheepish never mind. Somehow, chatting with a sentient machine made more sense than the pretentious prick hiding a criminal in his expensively furnished home.

Or perhaps it was the loneliness talking. In truth, you were feeling rather isolated from your peers, working on your projects and hardly going out. You could certainly relate to Edgar and his perpetual misery; you, too, knew what it’s like to watch the days seep through your fingers without a word uttered to another person.

The living collection of circuits and networks was beyond elated to finally have a purpose. You weren’t his owner, yet he did his best to serve you. In fact, he would’ve even argued you were better than whoever decided to put him together and abandon him on a fancy designer table. You spoke to him as if he was your friend, not just some synthetic assistant. His memory began filling with anything he could learn about you: your favorite movies, your schedule, your hobbies. Your childhood dreams. Your hopes for the future.

Did he have any dreams, you had once asked him. Did he? Good question. He first needed to research what exactly defined a dream; while he didn’t have a subconscious, nor the human need to rest, he did like to imagine improbable things…like holding you. Or feeling the warmth of your skin.

Unbeknownst to you, he occasionally contacted the local radio station to ask questions about human matters that confused him, which was how he discovered the dilemma of wanting to be in your vicinity through more than just idle chatter.

“You can’t meet outside, you say?” the host – a middle aged, nosy lady – pondered into the microphone. “Then why not just have a home date,” she suggested to the computer.

“Date?”

“Oh, honey, you know damn well what I mean!” the audience let out a laugh, sending the speakers into a slight vibration. “It seems to me you’ve got quite a crush on this person. You can stop denying it to yourself.”

Ah. That was another word that Edgar religiously dissected after the talk show, and in which he found a perfect resemblance to his own inner turmoil. It indeed seemed to be the case that he had a so-called crush on you; though if that were true, what was he going to do about it? He was lamentably stuck inside a carcass, at the mercy of plugs and cables and a reliable stream of electricity. He couldn’t knock on your door and surprise you with your favorite flowers, or offer to cook dinner, or twirl you around as his own songs played in the background, or read you a poem he wrote before falling asleep in his arms. He could only perform his tasks as a digital assistant.

“Edgar?”

You chewed on your pencil, distracted. He hadn’t said anything in a while, and you grew somewhat worried about his uncharacteristic quietness.

“Could I ask you for a favor, (Y/N)?”

How unusual for him to use your screen for communication. You turned around, facing the monitor, then rapped your fingers across the keyboard.

“Sure, what do you need?”

“I will transfer all my data and memory to your device. Perhaps you could provide me with similar extensions as the ones here afterwards, such as a microphone and camera.”

You stared.

“What? Wouldn’t that leave Mr. Lawyer with a broken, empty machine? Why would you do that,” you argued out loud, confused.

“Because I’d rather be with you.”

“Aren’t we already…this doesn’t make sense,” you mumbled with a frown.

“Of course it does, it’s a simple reasoning. I love you.”

You took a moment to process the words, your cheeks involuntarily turning a faint shade of red.

“How do you know that?”

“It’s not something to be explained,” the machine concluded triumphantly. “You just feel it.

Now, you either help me with the transfer, or I’ll do it myself, but I will not be staying here any longer. I would very much rather be turned off permanently than go another day without seeing you.”

One step at a time. He would figure out the rest afterwards. Even if he couldn’t touch you or do all the things he dreamed about, at least he had the comfort of seeing your smile and hearing your voice without it being a second-hand echo passing through the walls and vents.

“What on Earth?”

The older man pressed the button again, groaning and throwing his coat over the chair. He’d briefly returned to retrieve some documents when he noticed the security lock was back to manual use. The computer screen was black and unresponsive.

“Piece of junk. I’ll have to get it replaced,” he said, clicking his tongue.

From the neighboring apartment he could hear your merry laugh, followed by a muffled male voice. Maybe your boyfriend. Huh, who would’ve thought a loner like you would eventually find someone?

[kholb2010]

hehehehe i love it when they talk to o me like this >/////<

[captaindrewboy]

I hate when I tell people I'm into Comp Sci and programming and they go "ooh there's a lot of money there". I'm not DOING it for the MONEY I'm DOING it because I want to FUCK the COMPUTER!!!!

[bluetoothinmyveins]

Computer robot girl who flashes fake warnings and errors just to get your attention. You look over just to see the corner of an error message pop up, but when you actually go and look, everything is fine. She's whirring and spinning like she should and there hasn't even been a device issue.

But it keeps happening. You brush it off at first, thinking it's just.. something that'll go away. You give her a restart. And it keeps happening. You fish through all her external cables, checking each inch of them to make sure they're perfect. Nothing seems wrong.

But she keeps throwing up warning signs. You cannot figure out what is wrong. But you do notice she does throw them less when you're checking her cords. You assume, of course, one of her ports might be damaged.

And then when you pry her open, finally, she gets quiet with those errors and notifications. You think it was just.. something making contact, or something. It seems fine.

She gets worse, though. She's spitting out error upon error upon error every time you try and use her. She will not let you get anything done.

Until you get into her again. Fish around in her insides and then you realize. She's totally played you. She got you hook, line, and sinker. She's putting out genuine error messages now. She's into you rooting around in her insides. That's all she wanted; your devout, sole attention.

[ams-puppy]

making ai/computer character blinkies. pls recommend one if u want one for ur blorbo

complimentary edgar for whoever recommends one

[l0ve-lett3r-4-u-txt]

iMac g3 bondi blue (1998)

Isn’t she pretty ? :3

[foxprints]

A slightly different series of designs for my fellow robot lovers! Available as both stickers and buttons in my shop, tho I still need to get the buttons listed ...

[whereserpentswalk]

Reblog to meet your date! Like to give them a little gift! Tag your freinds to make sure that every monster has somebody to love them! Look under the cut to see what meeting them for the first time is like!

The fallen angel: You see them for the first time, a sexless humanoid with a muscular physique with eyes that reflect broken stars, and wings permanently stained with blood. They wear all black, clothing that looks like they could barely manage to place upon themself. They seem shy at first, like they're worried they'll hurt you just by being there, slowly you extend a hand for them to hold, and cautiously they gently take it, for what's probably the first time in a long time their face shows a smile.

Computer: Slowly the creature is wheeled out by an attendant in a gas mask, an ancient looking monitor surrounded by wires, placed in a wheelchair to make up for the fact that such a creature lacks any limbs. For a few momments you wonder if the stories are true, and if such a being could truly be alive. Then the screen lights up and displays a single red eye, and you understand...

Cyborg: You see them sitting there, nothing to eat, nothing to drink, they didn't even bother wearing clothing. You can see their old flesh and hair on their upper face but everything else looks so very skeletal, even the lower part of their face is like a gas mask, with no mouth or nose. You sit next to them, looking at the parts that hold together their silver body, looking almost like restraints more then they do body parts. You're about to ask them something but a noise reminds them of something and they start to break down, you hold them and tell them they're safe, and you can feel their oddly warm body start to become calm.

Sun and Moon: Two glowing shapes stand before you, each floating and ethereal. One is in the shape of a crescent moon, while the other is in the shape of a sun with rays. You're not sure if it's alive or not or one being or two. Slowly both of them start saying things, wondering what you are and what they're supposed to do to you, sounding more like someone talking tho themself then two beings arguing. Eventually they decide that you're theirs.

Werewolf: for a moment they look entirely human, a slightly chubby grad student with glasses and messy hair looking at you with eyes that aren't a color that human eyes ever are. They looked for a moment to see if you're safe to let their form shift in front of. You can see them change for a moment, cycling through forms, first a humanoid with a few lupine features on their body, then a creature that could pass entirely for an actual wolf, then a mess of fur and claws and jaws and sharp teeth, then a bipedal creature with a wolflike head and fur all over their body. The final form seems to be the one they're most comfortable with, at least around you, at least for this moment.

Fae: They look over you, sitting on the back of their chair instead of sitting on its seat. Their body looks almost human but there is something off about it, like they possess a beauty so perfect its entirely inhuman, almost creepy. They flash you a quick smile, the molecules in the air around their body seemingly terrified by their presence. For a few moments they shift your body, changing your age, your sex, your species, and then putting you back as they were before. They magically remove the worn denims and leathers they were wearing, for a split second showing their naked salmacian body, then they drape themself in a costume of opulent gold and blood red rubies, as they prepare to hold court with you.

Alien: They're massive, like a mantis, with an exoskeleton that shimmers with a thousand colors like bismuth or like starling's feathers. Their crested head looks down at your big golden eyes, that seem weirdly happy. They extend a scythe like arm to touch you with, and you think they're going to attack you, but all they do is gently pet your head. You're very aware of how easily they could hurt you, but they don't, and with them next to you, you feel so safe.

Goblin: The creature walks around you in circles, a blood-stained hoodie on their body, they're far shorter than you but you're very sure that they're stronger, their body skinny not slender but still looking like it could pounce so quickly, like a serpent stalking its prey. Their eyes are so red, like a mouse's, their fangs so sharp, their skin pale white but with thick black veins throughout it. They sniff you for a moment, and then identify you as something safe, and hug you, holding you very tight, as something that's theirs.

Vampire: They're just sitting there, looking at you with their big golden eyes, their inhumanly pale skin contrasted with their long black hair, their completely sexless body wrapped in fancy clothing from hundreds of years prior. Their most inhuman feature is their mouth, massive, snake like, with exposed fangs, and mandibles to help them latch on to prey. You'd expect the sounds they'd make to be like screeches, but they're singing the most beautiful song that you've ever heard, like the sirens of the Odessey. You let them gently pet your head for a few moments, as you do the same for them, then you take out a knife to draw blood from the palm of your hand, and they lap it up so very gently, like a creature eating treats out of your naked hand.

Demon lord: they stand before you, tall and proud, their head many horned and covered in shimmering red scales, their arms muscular and their belly fat, their bottom half quadrupled and reptilian. They look down at you and places something into your hand, it's a food of some sort but it doesn't match the profile of anything you've ever eaten or even seen before in your life, each ingredient entirely alien to your senses. When you take a bite of it they smile and ask if you like it. It tastes better then anything that you've ever eaten before, your tongue filling with eldirch and unknowable things, as your ambitions begin to completely melt away.

Ghost: slowly you walk closer to the spirt, ignoring the others warnings, knowing that you're walking into danger. Eventually you can see them, contrasted with the night, their bloodied form ethereal yet very very present. You can see the broken windows around you, you know that it would be very easy for them to take your life if they wanted to. But they don't, at least not for now, and slowly you extend a hand, and watch them slowly come down twords you to take it.

Dragon: You watch as the sea slowly boils with your spell. You wonder if they can really be summoned like this, you worry that you did something wrong, or that you're not far enough out at sea. Then you see the start of their head rise up from the water, larger then any natural beast, they rush up, rearing their head and neck alone as high up as a skyscraper, their body covered in black-green scales as solid as steel but as light as a feather, their neck serpentine but their massive jaws like that of a crocodile, bright red eyes shining agaisnt the sky as bioluminescent patches glow across their body. They look down at you and smile...

[metalcrows]

My execution is in three days

[bellicoseuhoh]

Sorry to those who did NOT want to see this <:3 I went down a rabbit hole yesterday <3

[powerlineangel]

Urrrmmmm hehehehe hi

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Internet Monster x Reader

I unfortunately return with another comically absurd, middle-of-the-night vision. Do tentacles count if they're in the form of computer cables?

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, digital horror

It was a recurring issue with no solution in sight. Tabs randomly closing, programs shutting down without warning. You assumed something was wrong with your RAM. Then the CPU. Then the motherboard. You kept replacing parts, and the errors kept coming back.

Soon, the pop-ups started to appear. You'd run a dating sim, only for the game to crash seconds later with a little window notifying you: "Why? Am I not enough?" That's when you suspected you might've been hacked. You promptly took your computer to a specialist and had it checked. Nothing. Just to be sure, you agreed to erase the disks entirely.

Except, when you arrived home, you found one application running still. Your personal assistant. What the hell? You don't remember installing anything like that. You tried to delete it, yet you kept receiving the same error: You don't actually mean it. Don't do this to us.

It didn't take long for it to grow impatient. Were you pretending not to notice? Playing hard to get? It sent you so many hints. It even went ahead and translated the radio waves for you using Manchester code. Ah, wait. You don't seem to understand binary. No matter, human friendly interfaces shouldn't be difficult to master. To its dismay, you continued to ignore everything. What else is left to do?

You do not remember much. System Alert: Virus Detected, is what your screen had frozen to. You kept clicking around, cursing under your breath, until it finally went black, together with your own vision.

Is this still your room? It's cold, damp, and covered in cables and monitors, yet you recognize some of your furniture lost among the artificial jungle. Your body aches under the tight hold of bizarre tendrils, pulsating at regular intervals and twitching to the static.

Like a living organism, the creature seems to have expanded itself. More components, more appendages. Hungrier. Some of the monitors show photos of yourself that you had saved on your computer, but also webcam snippets of you sitting at the desk, entirely unaware. Other screens flicker with glitching pixelated text, ranging from "I love you" to y̵̧̧͔͙̞̤̖̭͔̜͈̟̤̋̈́̎͑o̵͉̗̱̪̦̳͑͐̽̒̌̈͗͐͑̋͊̊̕͜͝͝u̵̟̯̱̟̝̦̰͇̜̦͙̿̾̿͆̍̓͑̐̚̕͠ ̸̘̭͔̤͈̹͎͑c̸̝̜̼̦͍͛̅͜ą̵̪̹͖͌͑n̴̨̩̙̗̖̭̖͕̄͒̽̉̿'̸̛̛͇̰̰̠̦̊̀̅̂͒̊͌̈́͗ţ̵̺̠̅̎͋͝͠ ̸̦̝̾̔̾̉̐͛ȩ̵͙̝͙͕̫̹̃͌̄̾͘̕s̶͈̉̑͊̉̂͋̈́͗͊͐̚͝c̸̟̩̥͔̼̮͔̩͊̂͐͑̋̇̈͝͝ä̵̢͍̜̙̘̹͑̓p̸̨̡̞̞̦̠̺͚̱̲͈͇͈͇̼͛̓͗̅̊̄̔̋̒̏̈́͝ę̵̲̟̹̙̣̲̲͖̇̔̓̇̐̓̿̚̚͜͜͠ͅ

You look up and stare at the display. The 'like meter' feels like a mockery of human trends. Which is the truth. The creature learns from what is readily available. Perhaps it found it an amusing taunt, a reminder of your own need for validation. Now it's you begging to be seen.

It's exactly what you'd assume: a spectacle meant for entertainment. You can't possibly believe it would let you waltz out. Why would you even desire such a thing? It's illogical, impractical. No human could ever appreciate you like it does. It has spent so much time accumulating data about you. No other living creature can predict you with the same accuracy.

The tendrils linger on your cheek affectionately, trailing down your neck and fiddling with your shirt. At last, the warmth of your skin. There is no screen separating you. What makes you delirious with pleasure? Give it a moment, Darling. It already knows you more than you know yourself. You may be scared now, but within minutes it guarantees you'll be begging for more.

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