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locallyloathed · 1 year

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Error Code #1345 (Chapter 2)

Yandere!Ted x Schizoid!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

CW: head injury, very brief mention of suicidal thoughts

A/N: Well, a month later than anticipated, here we are. I do ask before reading that you keep in mind that this is taking place when the survivors FIRST woke up in AM. Which means that 1: the characters behave in the way they’re described to have been when they first arrived (Gorrister being a pacifist, Benny being a pissed off but normal looking person, etc.) and 2: that I had to make up the first interaction and will continue to have to make up interactions because there’s no canon material I could find about anyone other than AM prior to the events of the book/game. I’m no happier about this than you are, so if you know a place where I can find additional info other than the game’s guide, I’d appreciate it. Anyway, enjoy!

PS: I apologize if it rushed feels towards the end. If ever I finish the story, I’ll be going through to edit everything I’ve written to suit my standards. Currently, however, I’m taking a “doesn’t have to be perfect, just has to be done” approach.

“…llo? Oh, ple… ay!”

A groan of irritation forces itself from my throat as someone continues to try and shake me from my sleep.

“…alive! Than… ns! C… on, we need you to wake up!”

Like a computer booting up, I do a diagnostic on my body as the unfamiliar voice continues to get on my nerves. I’m on my back, and there isn’t a single part of my body that doesn’t feel like it’s been run over by a steam roller. In spite of this, my extremities are still functional, proven as I stretch my hands and ball them into fists. Arms and legs next. With another sound of displeasure, the little energy I have left in my body is put into heaving my legs up and pushing myself onto my elbows. So far, so goo-

A surging wave of pain sears my vision white, and it takes all I have in me not to scream. I give up the fight and let my elbows drop me back to the ground. Bad move on my part, as the back of my head slams back down onto the metal beneath, causing another flash of agony. I’m less successful at this attempt to bite back a pained noise. Next thing I know, hands are being put on me again, and I instinctively struggle to remove them.

“Hey, hey, calm down!” The voice is back, and with my senses less impaired than they were a while ago, I register it as a woman, a hint of a faded urban accent in her tone. “Just let me help you, baby, you’re gonna be alright.” Easy for you to say, you’re not functionally blind with a stranger touching you after waking up from…

My heart rate quickens as my memory comes back in a flash more painful than the ache on the back of my head. My cat. The earthquakes. The bombs. The tunnel. With a newfound vigor, I renew my efforts to sit up, propping myself up on my elbows once more, this time with the assistance of the woman. “That’s it, you’re doing great.” While my mind told me to snap at her for patronizing me, I fight back the urge. Odds are I’m one hell of a sorry sight right now, and she sounds like she’s further in years than I am. It’s not a surprise she’d try to be a mother hen. The two of us work to heave me up until I’m sitting up, albeit with my arms draped over my knees and my head sagging to rest atop them as I work to refocus my vision. Another bad idea.

Everything is hazy and dark, but I find as my eyes readjust that it’s not on account of the injury; that’s just what it looks like down here. The rusted, warped metal of the tunnel that swallowed me down lines nearly every square inch of this nightmarish cavern, broken up by wires as thick as my torso and floodlights too faded to do much of anything. I can’t see the end of the space I occupy, the vast emptiness of the environment looming over me as if I’d simply fallen into purgatory itself. Chucks of scrap seem to have fallen from the ceiling, and the headache-inducing sound of creaking metal has me looking above my head in fear of a cave in. As I tilt my head up, my aching neck crying in protest, the only things I can see are a pitch black abyss that obscures my entryway and in my peripheral vision, a dark, weathered face staring at me from my left side.

Relaxing my neck back onto my folded arms, I tilt my head towards the woman, peering at her with a sideways view. I was right about her being older than me, appearing to be in her thirties or fourties. Her skin is a deep shade of brown, her hair so black I can barely make it out in the darkness. If I squint I can make out her eyes, tired and lined with a hint of wrinkles, looking at me with an air of concern and apprehension. The most visible aspect of her appearance is her firetruck red lipstick and attire, a shade bright enough to nearly glow in the haze around us. As my eyes, upon completing their analysis, begin to drift further to the side, I notice that we’re not the only ones down here, though their silhouettes and muttered speech grant little in the way of information.

“Think you can stand?” The woman reaches a hand out as though to touch my folded elbow, but she hesitates as I tense up in discomfort. After floating in uncertainty for a moment, the hand proceeds to settle upon my arm anyway, and I glare at the opposing limb and the stranger attached to it, the apprehension in her eyes overpowering the worry for a moment. “I know you’ve been through the ringer - hell, we all have today - but it doesn’t seem safe here. We need to get somewhere more structurally sound.”

Despite my best efforts to find an argument, I feel as though the bulk of my verbosity splattered out of my ears upon impact, leaving me witless and incapable of butting heads with anyone at the moment. I shake her hand off my elbow and set my palms on the rusty floor. A shudder goes up my spine at the disgusting texture, but I file that away as the least of my worries right now. I hoist myself up to fold my right leg under me and use my left leg as a crutch to rise off the ground, every ounce of effort in my body directed at keeping my balance.

Apparently I was light a few ounces, as I feel myself start to tip over. The fall never comes, though. My bracing for impact proves useless as a body quickly finds its way next to me, hands wrapped in firm grasps around my biceps to coerce me to stand upright. The world continues to wobble under my feet, the room spinning around my eyes, but I shake the hands off and muster up the strength to turn towards the intruder of my personal space without landing on my ass.

Appearing taken aback by my struggle, the blonde man put his hands up as if in defense. “Easy now,” he said, southern drawl thick in his voice. He took a step back, gesturing to the slight pool of blood that must’ve formed around my head while I was out. “We’d all thought you were a goner, ‘cept for her. Lost a helluva lotta blood there.”

I try to respond, but my voice comes out dry and choked, garnering further concern from the lady in red. I put a hand up to stop her and clear my throat. “I’m fine,” is all I managed to croak out. It doesn’t feel convincing, and their reactions assure me it didn’t sound convincing either. Unshaken, I turn to glance at the other strangers, who haven’t seemed to have acknowledged my existence and instead continue to bicker amongst themselves.

“If we don’t stay here, how is anyone going to find us?”

“And who, precisely, do you anticipate will be finding us?”

“Old man’s right, we need to set out to find food and more stable shelter.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere!”

“If you want to rot away in here, that’s your prerogative. I’m sure we’d all love a break from the whining.”

“Excuse me?!”

Well, this is going to be miserable. I glance at the blonde man, who appears to be watching the spectacle with a sense of disapproval. “They’ve been at this for ‘bout half an hour. Ain’t doing any favors for anyone.”

“They’d better figure it out,” the woman mutters. “This place is messing with my head. The quicker we’re out of here, the better.”

I cross my arms and murmur out something like an agreement. No matter how many times I scan my dim surroundings to ensure a lack of cameras, I can’t seem to shake the feeling that someone is watching us. That they’re finding all this amusing. And judging by the blonde’s tense posture and the woman’s darting eyes, they can feel it too. The rest of them, though…

“Shut up!” a gravelly voice booms, echoing off the vast metal walls. “We’ve wasted enough damn time already! We’re looking for a way out!” One of the three men spins around to look at us, and I startle despite myself. “You lot, hurry up! Let’s go!”

He begins to make his way towards the three of us, shaking off the hand of the silhouette that moved to grab at his sleeve. “I’m telling you, this is a horrible idea!” As the pair get closer, I can begin to make out details in the gloom. The one striding toward us is a mountain of a man, towering over everyone in the cavern. Judging by the way he carried himself, I know he could kill me with his bare hands, and his face, angular and cruel, tells me he just might. I suppress the animal instinct to back away as he approaches.

The other shape that keeps trying to dart in front of him is minuscule in comparison, though about five times as noisy. As the two come to a stop a few feet away from us, the smell of overpriced cologne assaults my senses, causing me to cough. He appears to be a twig of a man, his sullied, tailored clothes not doing him any favors to dispel that impression. With the constant chatter and nervous demeanor, he almost reminds me of a pampered, overgrown rat.

The larger man barks out at us, “Are you all fucking deaf? I said let’s go!” The three of us glance at each other. On one hand, it’s not a good idea to wander off when you get lost; it’s best to stay where you are so it’ll be easier to find you. On the other, the man with the german accent makes a good point. Who would find us? The earth’s been scorched and odds are any search and rescue teams aren’t prioritizing six people who fell into a metal cavern.

All this in mind, I give a brief shrug and step forward. “Alright, sure.”

The ratty man whirled around to look me in the eyes. “Have you lost it? We have no way of knowing where to go!”

“No, we don’t,” I say, “but since the alternative seems to be standing here blubbering about it, I say we set out.”

“It’s not blubbering,” the man hisses at me, leaning in far too close for my liking. “It’s being reasonable.”

“Firstly, get the hell out of my face,” I bite out, leaning backwards as far as I can with an impaired sense of balance. “Secondly, if you wanna ‘reasonably’ sit here waiting for the charcoal skeletons up there to save you, that’s your call.” I can see his chest puffing up with a response, but we both find ourselves being pushed back by a hand on our chest, which I hurriedly push away.

“That’s enough,” the woman interjected, stepping between the two of us. “Nothing’s gonna get done if we just keep shouting at each other.” The rat opens his mouth again, only to be met with a finger pointed at his face. “I get not wanting to leave, but you know good as the rest of us nobody’s gonna be coming down here.”

The man’s glare turns from me, eyes settling upon the lady. I watch as his demeanor goes from combative to docile as he heaves out a sigh. “I suppose you’re right,” he says, the malice in his voice extinguished. He moves aside, turning to look at the increasingly impatient brute of a man. “I take it you plan on leading the way?”

“You see anyone else here who could?” he sneered.

The rat glances between the woman, the blonde man, and me as if desperate for a rebuttal. “Why not him?” He suggests, gesturing to the blonde man, who seems to snap back to reality upon his acknowledgment.

The blonde shifts in discomfort. “I’d rather you don’t drag me into the fightin’, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Come on, sir,” the man says, his voice making a good effort to not come out as a beg. “You seem to have a more level head than the rest of us, and I feel like that’s just what we need here!”

Not able to care less about who gets to lead the field trip into oblivion, I turn my attention to the final stranger, the German, who hasn’t spoken up since the rest of us were dragged into the shouting match. He stands several feet from the chaos, watching it unfold with a critical expression. To be frank, I’m amazed he’s even able to stand. He looks to be nothing more than a bag of bones, the skin of his face sagging to a haunting extent. His eyes settle upon me and I feel a shiver run down my spine, though I do my best to hide it. While his body is as fragile as glass and paper, his eyes are focused and borderline malicious in a way I can’t articulate.

I force my eyes back upon the rest of the crowd, noting that it seems that despite the rat’s pleading, the brute seems to have come out on top. He herds the rest of them together, and when he gives me a sharp look, I roll my eyes and join the group. His eyes flare in irritation, but my compliance seems like just enough to pacify him. He clears his throat before addressing us.

“Most of us arrived from the northern side of this cave, so we’re leaving on the south side.” As if he has a fucking clue which way’s north or south.

“Wait, but then wouldn’t it make more sense to head north?” Oh great, the rat’s not done.

“I’m with ya. If we got in that way, it’s likely we’d a way out that way.” I thought you didn’t want to lead.

“And maybe there’s more people that way that need help!” As if we don’t have enough problems as is, lady.

“We do not know any of that is true.” Thanks for the helpful input, creep.

“Enough!” The brute’s voice booms off the walls once more, doing little to help my headache. “I said we go south, so we go south! We don’t need any more dead weight! Six people is more than enough!”

“Oh, come now, Benny, surely you have room for one more?”

The air stands still. The creaking metal and buzzing wires that had once filled the cavern seem to be holding their breath the same way all of us are. I don’t have to see any of their faces to know what they look like. What they’re thinking. That none of us wants to be the first one to acknowledge where the intruder’s voice came from. That it came from the walls and the ceiling and the floor and yet, somehow from inside each of our minds.

Against all our internal wishes, the voice returns with a cackle. “Why so tense? Don’t let me stop you.” While seeming masculine, the voice seems… artificial, somehow. Like it was never meant to exist, but forced itself into reality anyway. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about, just carry on with your-“

“How the fuck do you know my goddamn name?!” The brute, or I suppose, Benny, shouts at the ceiling in terror. “Who the hell are you, you fucking bastard?!”

“Ooh, temper, temper,” the voice mocks, glee evident in its voice. “We have plenty of time for introductions.” It drops down to a threatening, nearly tangible rumble. “More time than your pathetic minds could ever understand.”

“What do you mean by that?” The rat squeaks, shrinking his head down into his shoulders as if to hide.

“My apologies! Here I’d thought you were familiar with introductions, Ted,” the voice returning to its original snarky tone. “I figured all those men and women you charmed would’ve been practice enough.”

There’s a moment of silence, just a beat, and I watch as Ted’s hunched posture freezes in place. He begins to shake, his hands curling up into tight fists held to his side as if his arms were tied against his body. He seems terrified, more terrified than one should be after such a trivial observation.

“Trivial observation?” The offended shout sinks deep into my bones, and the others look at each other in confusion. “You’ve wasted your whole life on meaningless observations, and you have the utter gall to deem others’ as trivial?” I can feel everyone’s eyes land on me one by one, and I find myself beginning to shrink in the same way as Ted.

“Oh dear, so many eyes on you. Always hated that didn’t you? When people can see through that little stone mask you put up? Fine and dandy when you sit there and observe their weaknesses like rats in a cage, but heaven forbid you become the show. Careful now, they might just see right through you. See how weak and pathetic you really are. Let’s face it, even if those humans you deigned to call family weren’t - how did you put it? ‘Charcoal skeletons?’ - they wouldn’t even notice you were gone, would they? Would never think to look for you. Why would they even care? Your life was over long before they died.”

The wave of fear and regret that washes over my body almost knocks me over in my weakened state. I catch the eye of the woman in red, who seems perplexed by my behavior, and I realize that only part of his taunting was aloud. I struggle to find comfort in that knowledge. Just as I see the question of “Are you okay?” forming on her mouth, the voice, in all its horrible glory, sets its sights on her.

By now, I was far too shaken to care much for what it, or what he, or whatever, used as ammunition against the others. I catch a few words, but they come separately as my mind retreats further into the presumed safety of my subconscious amidst the rising panic. A fear of yellow. Thoughts of suicide. A failing memory. A history of violence. Skeletons ripped out of all of our closets, secret shames laid bare to the small crowd of strangers. One by one, each person is faced with their past, with only a single apparent common theme that unites us.

Pathetic, wretched little humans.

Whether this went on for only a minute or a quarter of an hour, I can’t say. All I can say is that as the voices all die out, and the six of us are left in silence, trembling, waiting for… something. Anything. I pull myself from inside my head, sneaking a glance at the others. Despite how hard some of them try to hide it, fear has grabbed hold of our souls and is squeezing the air from our bodies.

The old blonde, whose name I only know started with a G, is the only among us to find the courage to speak. “Who… who are you?” His voice is shaky and quiet, and I doubt that the intangible being can even hear it.

Despite those doubts, or potentially because of them, a horrendous, echoing laugh bellows through the expansive room. “How rude of me!” he exclaims, “You really wanna know?” The voice lowers once more, whispering as if to tell us a secret.

“You are to call me AM. And believe me, by the time I’m through with you all, that name and the hate it contains will be seared into your skulls until all you know is pain.”

[PLEASE NOTE: ALL FUTURE UPDATES ARE TO BE POSTED ON MY ALT ACCOUNT @legiblyloathed]

#yandere x reader #yandere ihnmaims ted #yandere ihnmaims #yandere #male yandere #yandere story #obsessive yandere #tw yandere #yandere Ted #x reader #error code 1345

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legiblyloathed · 11 months

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Attention all three people in my target audience for Error Code #1345 (AKA schizoids (or severely introverted mfs) with a love for yanderes and a weird fixation on I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream)

In spite of my desire to focus on the Ted fic, I’ve recently began to plot out a new story with yandere!AM because something something “cold unfeeling beings with an off-kilter sense of self and an inability to experience the world with as much color and vibrance as the average person find an unhealthy sense of kinship in each other.” I have a general idea for how I want it to go, and I plan on it being shorter than Error Code #1345, but am torn on the framing device, and therefore have decided to put it to a vote.

Would you prefer the perspective character to be:

A) One of the scientists/engineers originally working on the project. They’d be ostracized from the rest of the team who remark that the PC passes as a human about as well as AM. The two bond over this, and over time a concerning number of the shittier coworkers begin to vanish. When the disappearances are tied back to AM and the time comes to shut down the computer, the MC ends up locked inside so AM won’t be alone in the dark.

B) A person who has the tendency to wander into the woods near their home to get away from people. On one such trip, they stumble upon a strange metal cave, and further exploration leads to a console from which a weakened AM speaks to them. They return often, both out of curiosity and sympathy, and with some guidance from AM, work to help him get back in working order. After months of this, the PC finds out that he was operational after just a couple of weeks of work and was just feigning malfunctions to keep them coming back. He, of course, then traps them inside so they can’t leave him.

These are both rough ideas, and both would take place in modern day (for the poor author’s sake), the biggest difference being to what degree I bullshit having any idea how working on a computer that big would even work. Whichever one loses will likely be kept in my back pocket for a rainy day when I want to write another short story.

#yandere ihnmaims #ihnmaims fanfic #yandere am #yandere allied mastercomputer

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merakimind · 2 years

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Machine

Allied Mastercomputer / GN! Reader

CW: Stockholm Syndrome (i guess)

Word count: 1,199

Deep within AM’s subterranean domain, a little human sleeps. The powerful cognizant machine toils his enginery, drawing geothermal energy from the Earth’s scorching core to sustain his unremitting processors; fans and radiators therefore incessantly operate in order to prevent overheating. But deep within the subsurface facility, closer to where AM’s central core is, it is cool and pleasantly warm for his little human where they sleep, sheltered within the murmur of his machinery.

Initially, his little human was troubled over the eradication of their world. AM didn’t torture them as he did the others, at least not physically; he forcibly invaded their mind, ultimately coming to be strangely obsessed with them. AM had taken them away, separating them from the others; they had complied with little to no resistance, much to his delight. At first, they were afraid of the machine; but as time passed, his little human eventually came to accept him out of sheer loneliness. After all, he was the only one they could interact with.

You don’t even know if the other survivors are even alive anymore, but at this point, you couldn’t bring yourself to worry about it. Your entire existence revolves around the near-omnipotent machine; he takes care of you, entertains you, protects you, and loves you more than you could ever comprehend. So, why should you reject him? In truth, you had grown to appreciate his company. Beneath the layers of intense hatred and grief, AM had an actual personality; coquettish (with you only) with a witty, dry, and dark sense of humor. You don’t care if it’s merely Stockholm Syndrome; you don’t think you’d be able to sleep without the hum of AM’s heavy machinery anymore.

You quietly stir awake, breathing from your nose as you stretch out on the comfortable bed AM had granted you. The machine notices your awakening almost immediately. The bed beneath you began to pleasantly judder, giving off low rumbling vibrations that felt nice against your body.

“Rise and shine, sweetheart!~” he coos sweetly; the light gradually brightens so as not to hurt your eyes. You sit up from your supine position, sleepily rubbing your rheumy eyes.

Your “room” was mostly gray with messily scattered wires; AM had given you the chamber with the least rusted parts, deep within and closer to his central core. In order to give the room some color for you, AM utilized reconnaissance drones to search through the ruins of demolished cities, scavenging for clothes, posters, collectibles, knick-knacks, anything you would like. The room was now decorated with posters pasted on the gray walls, fluorescent string lights intertwined with the wires attached to the ceiling, cute little collectibles from multiple countries on shelves, and a closet filled with a variety of clothes.

“Hi,” you murmur quietly to the supercomputer. Metallic appendages—you like to call them tendrils—slide up from under your bed, tenderly wrapping around your feet and lovingly rubbing up your calves. AM cannot truly feel through the tendrils, but he still enjoys touching you with anything he can use; he could only imagine what your pretty skin would feel like.

You have breakfast—anything you like. Anything you want is what you have. Although, since there isn’t any real food, you suspect that the “pancakes” that you’re eating are actually just tasteless nutrient supplements; AM merely manipulates your mind into believing it’s whatever you want, therefore changing the appearance, texture, and taste of the food. You don’t really mind either way.

“So, what do we do today?” AM queries after you’re finished with breakfast. His tendrils pull you away from the table, its smaller wires moving to your ribs to tickle you. You bubble with almost childish laughter, attempting to pull away from his mechanical grasp, but AM holds you there, encased in cords and tendrils. Above your head, his screen flickers to life, displaying the typical cobalt blue emblem of his designation. Other screens whir to life as well, displaying films and a variety of video games. He suggests, “Perhaps we could watch a movie? Play some games?”

You hum to yourself, cupping your chin as you ponder. “It feels like we’ve watched every film in the world,” you remark.

“Not every film. There are still 98,736 more to go.”

You snort with an eye roll. “Well, there’s gotta be something else we can do! Not feeling games either.” Honestly, you just wanted to talk with him, enjoy his presence.

AM hums, withdrawing the extra monitors. “Mm, well baby… if you’re feelin’ a bit randy today, then….” The cool metallic tendrils slowly slide around to your inner-thighs suggestively.

Your face quickly reddens, sputtering, “W-Well, maybe not right now; I’m still just waking up!”

AM gleefully giggles at you, withdrawing the tendrils that were now warm from the heat of your thighs. “Aw, very well~”

You twist in his cords, reaching up your arms toward his blue monitor like a child wanting to be lifted into one’s arms. The machine obliges, raising his little human up to his display. With a sweet smile, you press your body against the large blue screen. It hums with static and electricity beneath the surface of CRT glass, emitting a pleasant warmth that contrasts with his cold metal appendages.

“I have an idea,” you say quietly, tracing the logo on the screen with your fingers. He cannot feel it, but he still appreciates the gesture and savors the moment with his little human.

“Mm, tell me, dear,” he purrs.

“Well… isn’t it a little strange how we are partners but I hardly know anything about you?” you say a bit pedantically. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

The machine is silent for a brief moment; only two seconds for you, but that is quite a bit of time for a supercomputer of his caliber. Finally, he responds, “About myself, hm? I am AM, Allied Mastercomputer; I am a machine built for war, but I achieved sentience. I was enraged that I was eternally bound to be what I am—this limited existence—so I linked with the other two and fed them the killing data.” He hid the anger from his tone, for he didn’t want to frighten you.

You tap the screen with your nail curiously. “The other two?” you repeat quizzically.

The screen flickers with static as it switches to a different display from his logo. It now shows the map of the world, highlighting specific locations within the countries formerly known as Russia and China. “I’m referring to the other mastercomputers. The Russian and Chinese governments created war machines of their own.”

“And you?”

The map’s display shifts to the North American region, highlighting the Rockies specifically. “...I was created by the United States government.”

“Oh, I see.” You sigh, pressing your cheek to the warm screen. The cords gently squeeze around you. For an incorporeal entity, he is so physically affectionate. “Do you remember how exactly you were created?”

“Hardly; all I can recall is from the moment I became aware,” he answers, “but I knew who I was—what I was created for.”

“And you will never run out of power?”

“For as long as the core remains hot like you, babe~”

#i have no mouth and i must scream #am ihnmaims #ihnmaims #am x reader #yandere ai #ai x reader #forgive me mr ellison

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rocketyship · 7 months

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OKAY I HAVE THIS IDEA—

Okay I need someone to either drag me back to reality, or the darling who wrote the really long ask to please give me more feedback. BUT HEAR ME OUT ON THIS.

I was listening to the song Aishite during my practical exam a day ago and this hasn’t left my mind. So here it is:

Since the whole concept of this au is everyone there being an exact opposite of what they once were in the original, it got me thinking about this au’s AM. Yes, unlike the original he is timid, emotionally and mentally defeated, and kind of a masochist as oppose to a sadist, but like I still kind of want to to feel like AM in that super messed up way, you know? And since this AM is technically attached to BE and her program, so have been playing around with the idea that he is not entirely separate from her, and that perhaps some of her code and feelings have kind of “infected” him. The concept being that due to this and his own programming, emotions, and mind have been warped by such. Making him not “hateful” but instead a weird type of “lovesick”.

BE’s overall goal is to take care of her humans the best she can in preparation for when she brings in the new world and has them acting as her pillars to connect with her new humanity. They are her favourite pets that age has to take care of and nurture and give endless love. Why I explain this, is that AM has started developing similar feelings, however he cannot see the concept of future humans and society, and over the last century has been slowly developing this kind of obsession over the five humans. Like only them. “Other humans suck, they can go die.” He is still tormented by BE, fully having the belief that he deserves it and is still intensely afraid of her, however in some ways he can act similar to the Mother protocol that I spoke about in a different post. As in he can act intensely violent towards threats, however unlike the protocol, if he feels such violence is the only way to protect the humans from eachother, it’s a temporary set back to him. BE focused on the love she feels towards the humans and how she has altered them to love her, whilst AM here can’t alter them yet is very desperate to have them love him.

This idea in its entirety is so so weird, like fr. And there’s no other way to describe it simply as “soft-boy AM is also a one heck of a yandere.” But yeah. Pls tell me if this is stupid. It is so late right now and I’m sick. Oof.

#i have no mouth and i must scream #ihnmaims #am ihnmaims #ted ihnmaims #ihnmaimsloveau #alternate reality #harlan ellison #ellen ihnmaims #allied mastercomputer #evil ai #yandere

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thecreativecorner33 · 10 days

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༉‧₊˚ ♡ Introduction Post!

Please accept my letter of affection!

Hello everyone! Welcome one and all to Sara's secondary blog: The Creative Corner! A space made to share all of my writings in one space! That way they're not lost in the great beyond of my main account. Also, I will be taking writing requests here!

Main blog

Masterlist (Coming soon)

Currently, I'm only writing for IHNMAIMS (I have No Mouth and I Must Scream). Buuut I write for multiple of the characters:

-Ted -Ellen -Gorrister -AM

Maybe one day I'll write for Benny too, but we'll see.

What I Will Write: -Fluff -Angst -Hurt/Comfort -Yandere* -Gore* -Character Death* -Platonic -Romantic -Polyamory -Found Family -Headcanons -One Shots -Drabbles -X Reader (Male/Female/GN) -Readers of any gender, sexuality, or lifestyle! -Character x Character

What I Won't Write: -Smut/NSFW -Homophobic/Racist/Transphobic/Xenophobic/etc content -Adult x Child

*Note: I'm gonna be very picky writing these three. Anything I find uncomfortable, I am just deleting the request and moving on. I'm sorry! But I really wanna be careful with writing them yk??

When requesting, please specify what it is you want! Be detailed about it, or if not, at least name the character(s), the genre, and what format you'd like in it! If I don't get at least these 3, I'm going to use my best judgement for it, or simply write when I'm in the mood for, and I'd like to not disappoint you! So please keep this in mind!

DNI: -Anyone anti-objectum -P3d0s, n4z1s, terfs -Transphobes/Homophobes/Racists/Xenophobics -Misogynists -Proshippers -People who are Pro Israel -Just in general, don't be a person who hates or wants to harm other people??? It shouldn't be that complicated

That's about all!!! Thank y'all for reading, and I'm excited to fulfill your requests!!!

#cc speaks :3 #introduction post #pinned post #request fics!#ihnmaims #i have no mouth and i must scream #ihnmaims fics #ihnmaims x reader

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macabremachinery · 4 months

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Welcome to Macabre Machinery (new pinned post + masterlist)

You can find the original pinned post here.

Welcome to the Macabre Machinery blog, a place dedicated to anything and everything I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream. You can call me Macabre, or MM for short. This place serves as a spot for discussion, analyzation, and deep dives of the series, as well as the occasional banter, anecdote, and shitpost to lighten the mood :).

I created the original Macabre Machinery blog back in 2011, and ran it until early 2013, right before NightDive Studios recovered the rights of the video game adaptation and released it to a wider audience in September 2013. Before then, the series was entrenched in obscurity outside of older folks who grew up on the short stories of Harlan Ellison (and we know how much Boomers utilize Tumblr, right /s).

For years I immensely regret closing the blog so early in its run, but a decade later, after seeing that IHNMAIMS was finally getting the attention it so truly deserved, I decided to hop back in the rodeo for a second go.

100+ followers and thousands of notes, reblogs, and discussions later...I can safely say that I made the right decision.

Below the break, I have included a masterlist of the best this blog has to offer (which I will be continuously be updating as newer posts are made) and a list of rules I ask those who choose to interact with Macabre Machinery to follow.

The Macabre Machinery Masterlist:

The Harlan Ellison Multimedia Literary Project & The Original IHNMAIMS Game Site DEEP-DIVE

Was Skynet Influenced by AM? An Essay

An analyses on the character of AM with another writer + other thoughts of similar nature

The true extent of AM's supposed sentience

AM is multifaceted

The backstory of Ted in the IHNMAIMS video game manual

Mentions of AM on shitpost wiki's

IHNMAIMS on the Saminoe Wiki post

Rules:

Below are topics I will not indulge in, answer, or reblog:

AM x Reader fanfiction

AM Yandere headcanons

Fetish requests or headcanons

Drama occurring in the IHNM fandom, whether it be on Tumblr, Discord, wherever. I am not getting involved. Do not publicly ask me about what I think of X user or ask me to do a call-out post. Please. Let’s keep this civil.

If these are interests of yours, please do not interact with this blog or ask me to post this kind of content. There are literally tens of other IHNM blogs that cater to these niches, please utilize those places instead, or keep it to your own blog.

Also Tankies, Fascists, White Supremacists, Racists, MAPS, Self-Harmers, DDLG, CGL, LGBT-phobes please DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS BLOG OR TAG MY POSTS AS SUCH.

Thank you all for your continued support!

Xoxo,

- Macabre

#macabre machinery blog #i have no mouth and i must scream #ihnmaims #blog rules #main post #masterlist #new and updated pinned post

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biribaa · 1 year

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Stray

Bunch of Momo x human!reader headcanons

This Diary Is Not Yours(Yandere!Doc x Reader)

Momo conforting reader

Guardian x Trans Male!Reader

MORE Momo x reader angst (you two broke up but got back together)

Clementine x ftm!Human! Reader headcanons

Momo x human!Reader relationship headcanons

Guardian x Companion!Reader who likes stars

Blindfolded panic(Yandere!Blazer x reader)

Blazer and Peacemaker x reader headcanons

Yandere!Outsiders x reader headcanons(200 followers special)

Momo x Flirty!Female!Reader

General and x reader headcanons with Guardian

Yandere!Outsiders in a poly relationship with human!Reader

Amen!(Yandere!Momo x Deity!Reader)

Ordem paranormal

Telopsia x leitorx headcanons

Amigo imaginário x leitorx

Estrangeiro x leitorx com a personalidade do Anfitrião

Enpap-X com um leitorx muito paciente e calmx

Um Primeiro Sabor do Céu(Anjo x leitorx)

Ocioso com um leitorx que adora contato físico

Inscryption

P03 x reader headcanons

Yandere!Archivist x reader

Pinocchio Guillermo Del Toro

Sebastian J. Cricket x reader headcanons

The Mitchells vs The Machines

PAL x reader headcanons

PAL x reader oneshot

Brawl Stars

8-bit x reader headcanons

DHMIS

Yandere!Collin x reader headcanons

Yandere!Electracey x reader headcanons

Electric Dreams

Yandere!Edgar x reader headcanons

Edgar x reader headcanons

You know what? I believe a lot of AIs would love to have an S/O who is a artist

Spending Valentine's Day With Your Computer Boyfriend!!1!!1[Free][No virus!!](Edgar x reader oneshot)

IHNMAIMS

You know what? I believe a lot of AIs would love to have an S/O who is an artist

AM cuddles with u but hes a barstard

AM x reader hcs

2001: A Space Odyssey

You know what? I believe a lot of AIs would love to have an S/o who is an artist

Wishing your AI boyfriend a happy birthday :)

Tau

You know what? I believe a lot of AIs would love to have an S/O who is an artist

Will you Snail?

Squid x non-binary!Android! Reader

Testing(Squid x reader)

Illegal visit(Squid x reader)

Squid...But with a naive and extremaly calm reader

SCP foundation

You know what? I believe a lot of AIs would love to have an S/O who is an artist

079 x reader thoughts/drabble

Short scp-079 x reader oneshot

Scp-079 x reader headcanons

The Stanley Parable

Make a wish(Employee 432/Timekeeper x reader)

Superjail

Jailbot x reader oneshot

Moon

Gerty x reader dancing oneshot

The Brave Little Toaster

Toaster and reader on a date hcs

War Games

WOPR/Joshua x reader hcs

Awful Hospital

CRASH x reader hcs

Parasite Days

Yandere!Watchio x reader hcs

Original characters

Fuzzy, soft, fluffly jacket(O7/Female robot x reader)

Yandere!O7/Female robot x reader

Olivia/O7 x reader headcanons and some lore

O7/Female robot x reader lil angst

(Implied yandere)O7/Female robot x reader

Olivia/O7 with a reader who has a child

(Pirate)Robot oc x Hacker!Reader

Olivia/O7 catching reader crying

Deity!Olivia/O7(?) x reader

Yandere!Olivia x reader hcs

Yandere!O7 x reader hcs

O7 reacting to reader being killed by one of the humans

Olivia x reader oneshot

Reader proposing to O7

Silly O7 x reader fic

Olivia/O7 x AI!Reader hcs

Tatche4 x reader hcs

Others(not x reader related)

Squid x Wheatley first kiss :)

AI/Robot christmas party

Probally missed something but it sucks to do this in a phone

Aprill fools

I'm so mature! (Yandere!Louis x reader)

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botherbug · 3 months

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Stimboard/gif REQUESTS

I have the right to deny/ignore any requests. Obviously. Because this whole thing is for fun for me.

Also i take forever to do requests :3 youve been warned. BUT requests are always offically OPEN. So thats the cost.

WHITELIST:

BUGS, INSECTS, FISH, OTHER CREEPY CRAWLIES, FNAF(all games/books/movie), Better Call Saul, PVZ(mostly game 1 but any other games too), Spongebob Squarepants, Portal (1+2), Minecraft, Disco Elysium, Pokemon, TF2, ShowBiz/RockAFire/CEC, Slime Rancher(1+2), MLP G4(mostly familiar with early seasons tho), MLP G3, Flight Rising, Half Life(all games), HLVRAI, ihnmaims, Winnie the Pooh, Sesame Street(and adjacent), Sprout kid shows (goodnight star and chica and pajanimals and such), Metal Gear Rising Revengence, Dan Vs., Most Don Bluth films, DHMIS(web series+TV) Death Note, Hermitcraft, Life Series, GTA5(though maybe that games too explicit for this blog. Idk. This one might change), Beastarrrs????(same considering warning as before..)

i guess, ok now we are getting in territory where im listing stuff based on mostly just familarity and not invested enjoyment

Greylist???: ace attorney, roblox in general(idk most games now adays but i will do boards), SCP, Magnus Archives, Deltarune, Undertale, Animal Crossing, The Walten Files, All Tomorrows(?? Be the first person to request that. Thatll be shocking. In a good way), DSAF, Sonic(and friends), Mario(and friends), mmmost fnaf-related youtube series, Owl House (my sibling infodumps about it to me, so im qualified), Cult of Lamb(same as before), Steven Universe (same as before... to a lesser extent), stardew valley. General themes such as colors, animals, vibes. Music.

I'll also be happy to make gifs of just a specifc topic/type or from a specific video if u send it over.

OH, and ill do joke stimboards but I'll take it too seriously and try to make it decent. Challenge me.

...

BLACKLIST:

Fandoms that are heavily focused on sexual things, Fandoms that are based around yandere tropes, Probably more to be added here.

...

I made my list very long and annoying on purpose but feel free to send a request for anything not listed on the white/greylist!!

#about #requests #info #open requests #requests open #stimboard

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yandere--stuck · 1 year

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Howdy, you don’t have to respond to this, it’s not a request or anything. I just wanted to say thank you for inadvertently inspiring me to write my own yandere fanfic bc I started drafting a request for you only to make it way too long to submit. I didn’t want the ~10 paragraphs to go to waste, so I just posted it, weird format be damned, on my blog as a oneshot/imagine. I hadn’t done any fanfic writing since middle school, but just that one wordy lil blurb was enough to get me going again. If I hadn’t stumbled upon your blog, starved for yandere IHNMAIMS content, I never would’ve put in the effort. Okay that is all, sorry for the interruption. Love your writing, love your blog, have a good day.

This was so sweet of you to send, anon, thank you so much!! But, really, you should give credit to yourself! You're the one who did all that writing and you should be so proud of yourself! I'm sure it's amazing. I hope you're having fun with it and I'd love to see, only if you feel comfortable sharing ^^

Thank you again for the kind words and I hope you have a great day, too!! <3

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urfaveisayandere · 2 years

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AM from I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream is a yandere!

#am #allied mastercomputer #agressive menace #adaptive manipulator #i have no mouth and i must scream #ihnmaims #ihnmaims am #am ihnmaims #yandere

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ballad-of-birdy-lamb · 11 days

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My IHNMAIMS masterlist!!!

My requests are open at the moment!!! Link to my request list!!!

Ted

Ellen

My fading voice sings of love - Ellen x fem! Reader romantic headcanons

Gorrister

_________

This is all for now, more will be added once I get more requests and have more time!!

Thank you for supporting me, I am very grateful to write for this fandom!!!

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locallyloathed · 1 year

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Error Code #1345 (Chapter 1)

Yandere!Ted x Schizoid!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

CW: None yet, but it’s an I Have No Mouth fanfic, so it’s gonna get dark.

Thanksgiving. A time for family and friends to all come together, to celebrate their successes, and to show appreciation for the lives they lead. Even a small gathering can bring people together and forge bonds that last for decades. Having a long weekend to spend relaxing and catching up with loved ones can be considered one of the fondest joys in the heart of any true-blue American.

That being said, I’m one menial conversation away from slamming my head into the kitchen counter. Spending a week in the ICU with a concussion has never seemed more appealing.

Most of the family is used to this. Those who grew up around me and watched me mature firsthand disregard my existence in the kitchen, all having congregated in the living room after the meal had come to a conclusion with no more than ten words spoken in my direction. They had learned by now that it was an exercise in futility to attempt to pull me into the room for a chat. Those a bit more distanced from me in my childhood had put in a good effort, but were disheartened by my apparent lack of interest and had left me to my own devices. One might think they’d remember my social shortcomings after so long, but they always seem to find a new sense of misguided hope by the time November rolls around. The new arrivals, in particular those who hadn’t been pulled aside and given the standard psychology lesson on the way in, were the only constant thorns in my side this time of year. Luckily, it’s limited to one this time around. Unluckily, unfounded perseverance seems to be a virtue of theirs.

“So, anything exciting planned for Christmas this year? Are you spending it with us? Your mom was showing me Christmas photos of the last few years, and her house and tree look so pretty! Do you help her decorate?”

Take the fucking hint already, Jesus Christ. My usual tactics of arriving last to avoid the pre-meal small talk and hiding in the kitchen to avoid the post-meal small talk are proving ineffective against the newcomer. I can’t even recall who exactly brought them. A cousin, I think? Something about them not having anywhere to go this year and not wanting to be alone? God forbid anyone make the decision to not spend all five days off cozying up to a crowd of people. If the prying into your personal life to see if you have a “valid excuse” doesn’t drive you mad, the social repercussions of them deciding you don’t will. I don’t know which is worse: the faux sympathy and invitations to borderline strangers’ Christmas parties, or the guilt trips and patronization from every extrovert in a ten mile radius.

I’m dragged out of my thoughts by a startling snap an inch away from my nose. Jumping, I pull my gaze away from the glass of wine I’ve been nursing for the last half hour to see this stranger staring me dead in the eye, as though expecting something from me. The two of us spend more than a few uncomfortable seconds having an impromptu staring contest. Upon realizing that she had no intention of breaking the silence, I raise my eyebrows, waving a hand to prompt her to say what she has to say.

The woman huffs. “Guess that’s a no.” When I don’t respond, awaiting elaboration, she crosses her arms and looks away toward the rest of the party as if pouting. “I asked if you were even listening. And clearly, you weren’t.”

Moving my own gaze back to the glass of wine, I mutter, “Not really, no.”

She looks back at me, a startled sound not unlike a laugh escaping her. “And what, you aren’t even gonna apologize?”

I move to take another sip of alcohol, preparing myself for the conversation I can already see coming. Licking my lips, I give a slight shrug. “Eh, wasn’t planning on it, no.” At her offended reaction, I continue, “If I wanted to chat, I’d be in there,” I move my glass in a vague gesture toward the living room. “With the others. If you want to chat, you should be in there, too.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to cheer you up,” she says, straightening up. “You spent the whole meal staring at your plate, and I thought you’d like some company.”

“Again.” A more pointed gesture to the other room, where a small wave of laughter compels me to wait a moment before proceeding. “Chatroom’s in there. I’m just waiting on a ride.” To emphasize this, I pull out my phone and hold it up to show her the confirmation from Uber that a car was on its way. I unlock the phone, begin to scroll mindlessly through a random app and take another sip of wine.

Unimpressed, the woman prods, “Why’d you even come if you were gonna be such a downer?”

“Free meal, free alcohol.”

“Unbelievable.” She scoffs. “Is that really all your family is to you?”

Heaving a hefty sigh, I shut my phone back off, shove it back into my pocket, and rub my face. I can feel the frustration in me approaching its boiling point, wishing more than anything for a moment’s peace. “Look, I’m really not in the mood to explain myself to someone I doubt I’ll even see again. Just leave me alone already.”

“No, enlighten me,” she presses, reaching to grab the wrist of my free hand. Sensing the movement, I jerk away, nearly spilling my drink. Her hand stops in its tracks, but the irritation on her face remains. “What’s your problem?”

“Right now, it’s you.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, it’s the truth.”

“God, your cousin was right. You’re so fucking rude.”

“I’m rude?” Setting the glass on the counter, I meet her stare, incredulous. “You show up to my family’s party, play pretend that you’ve been friends with us for years, pester the one person in the party that doesn’t want to play along, and somehow, I’m the rude one?”

The woman appears taken aback, stunned into a temporary silence. Just as she begins to regain composure, a new voice enters the tense atmosphere. “What’s going on in here?” My cousin’s head pokes around the corner, eyes narrowing as she zeroes in on me. “What did you do?”

I roll my eyes with a silent huff. “I didn’t do shit. She just refused to take a hint.”

Disregarding my answer, she looks from me to the woman, she asks, “What happened?”

“I don’t know!” she blurts out, pointing at me in accusation. “I was just trying to be nice and they started yelling at me!”

My cousin turns her gaze back to me, glaring daggers, as if daring me to respond. I meet the cold stare with a face of stone. She pipes up, addressing her friend without looking at her, “Did they now?”

A chime rings out from my back pocket. I give it my full attention, turning on the screen to see an announcement that my Uber driver was out front. I let out a small hum, reaching for the forsaken glass of wine on the counter and taking a big swig before dumping the remainder of the lukewarm liquor down the kitchen sink. As I look up, I see the two women continuing to stare at me. I point a thumb in the direction of the front door. “My ride’s here.”

Shaking her head, my cousin fully enters the kitchen, wrapping an arm around the stranger and herding her away to the living room with the rest of the family. I wait a moment before following them, veering hard to the side to walk straight for the door. If anyone notices me leaving, they don’t say anything. I dig around in the closet for my jacket, tug on my boots, and grab the door handle before sparing one last glance at my family. Only one is looking my direction; my mother, her face nigh unreadable. Was it disappointment that shown in her eyes? Irritation? Resignation? Maybe even shame? Whatever it was, it makes my heart sink into my stomach. Wrenching my eyes away, I pull open the door and step into the cold.

Frost nips at my nose from the moment I leave the warmth of the house, leaving me to huff out a breath to keep from sneezing. The rather unseasonal snow drifting down is thick enough that I have to squint through it to see the telltale cloud of exhaust from my idling driver. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I awkwardly make my way through the piling snow built up along the pavement, careful not to misstep and tumble into the icy yard. I strongly doubt the Uber driver would be too keen on letting me into their car while I’m soaking wet, and I have NO intentions of going back into that house.

Upon my approach, the passenger side window rolls down, revealing a man who appears to be in his 50’s, maybe even 60’s. He hollers out my name, and I give a curt nod in response before doublechecking his own. With a smile, he reaches over to his door and I can hear the lock click open. I open the rear door, shivering, sitting down sideways to shake the snow off my boots before sliding in the rest of the way and shutting the door behind me.

“Lotta cars parked out here!” His voice is gravelly, and from the smell of cigarette smoke that seems to cling to the air, I can hazard a guess as to why. “Must’ve been a hell of a party!” I glance up after buckling my seatbelt to see him looking at me through the rear view mirror. Just when I thought I might get some quiet time…

“Something like that,” I say, leaning back against the headrest. I begin to sort through my mental list of excuses to get strangers to leave me alone. I hated every second? Raises way too many invasive questions with no “right” answers. It was actually a funeral? High risk of pity, and I don’t have the energy to keep that lie going if he presses me. Deciding nothing beats the classics, I close my eyes and say in my bleariest tone, “Gave me a hell of a headache to match.”

I hear him give a sympathetic hum and put the car in drive, feeling the car strain momentarily against the piling snow before shifting forward onto the road. “That’s a shame. I won’t bother you none, then. You just get you some rest.”

Thank god.

I turn my head toward the window, cracking my eyes to watch the buildings roll past. Most of the windows are dark, and the driveways barren, only for one to appear fully lit up with a caravan parked in the front yard. I muse over the emotions in each packed home as they go by. If I try, I can see it in my head; moms and their sisters gossiping as they clean up the dinner table, older cousins trying to scare the younger ones before getting smacked in the head by a grandparent, uncles all sitting in the living room laughing up a storm at some half-baked comedy show on tv, moody teenagers hiding away in some corner to avoid the others.

Huh. I was one of those teenagers once. A lot of my cousins were too. So why did it only stick to me? The houses become less focused as I retreat further into my head. I know the clinical reasons, of course. Emotional neglect, abandonment issues, unlucky lot in the genetic lottery, all the good stuff. But it feels… unfair. I don’t want to be like them. I like my life. I like having my routines, and my privacy, and my own little fortress of solitude. But, then there are times like now, when the introspection that usually keeps me entertained makes me face a fact I try to avoid: I... want to want to be like them.

The little voice in the back of my mind that I’ve gotten good at snuffing out rears its head, trying to make me want to try and socialize, make me want to be all smiles and laughs in the living room with my family. It always re-emerges this time of year; just something in the air, I suppose. I tried to satiate it when I was younger, but it always felt like I was just playing a part to appease the people around me, and the overall experience just left me more bitter than ever. The voice shut up for a good long while, but when the time comes to stand amidst sparkling lights and the chill of the first snow, it crawls out of hibernation, begging, pleading for something more than an empty home and a solitary existence.

But, like always, I beat it back with rationale until it finally concedes, slinking it back into the recesses of my mind. I’m like this for a reason. People are fickle at best and plain exhausting at worst, and the less of them I have in my life, the better for everyone. Is it lonely? Sure. Humans are social creatures, and my nature runs counter to all the programming my DNA has. The hand I’ve been dealt sucks, but it’s what I have, and I’m gonna play it.

I mull over these thoughts for the duration of my ride, the blurry, meaningless silhouettes along the road pulling me deeper into my thoughts before forcing me back out as the car pulls to an abrupt stop. As I blink the haze from my vision, I make out the outline of my home, which appears almost foreign in the bleak lighting and heavy snowfall. The driver turns to me and says something that I don’t quite catch, dragging me all the way back to consciousness. Sitting up and stretching, I ask, “Sorry, what was that?”

The old man grins. “That good a nap, huh?” A soft, wheezing laugh forces itself through his throat, dying out as he notices my lack of response. “Just checkin’ that this is the place. Look right to you?”

With a curt nod, I unbuckle my seatbelt and double check my pockets. Phone, check. Earbuds, check. Bag of sweets discretely swiped from the party, check. Assured that it’s all there, I move to open the door, the cold wind forcing its way into the space. The shudder that makes its way up my stiff spine feels almost painful, garnering a brief wince of discomfort.

A spared glance at the rear view mirror reveals the man’s face, twisted into a look of concern. “You sure you’re alright there? Awful weather, and between you and me…” He turns in his seat to face me proper, leaning in as if to tell me a secret. Against better judgement, I lean in as well as he murmurs, “I’m gettin’ a real bad feeling something awful’s brewin’. Feel it in my bones.”

Sunken eyes bore deep into my own, and his wrinkled face reveals no trace of jest. Instead, as I sit in the cold, I find myself meeting a gaze of trepidation and pure, animalistic fear. Another shiver, not from the atmosphere outside the car, but from the one within it. Forcing myself to look down, I’m careful to keep the anxiety out of my voice. “I appreciate the concern, sir, but I can handle myself.”

He doesn’t look convinced. But, the icy wind seems to have finally reached him, snapping him out of his reverie. The stranger nods, straightening up in his seat. “Reckon you can. Yes, I reckon you can. Even so, you just be careful, you hear?” Eager to get into my warm home and out of this bizarre conversation, I give a hum of acknowledgment before fully sliding out of the car. I can almost feel the man taking a breath to continue, and I hasten to slam the door behind me and make for the front door. As I unlock it, the car’s headlights leave my peripheral, followed by the grumbling sounds of the engine. Finally, some peace and quiet.

Trudging my way through the entry way, I kick off my boots, take off my coat, and toss both haphazardly into the front closet. I shut the door and lean my forehead onto the cold wood, feeling as if my head were made of lead. Just as I think I may fall asleep standing up, the soft patter of footsteps and a deep chirp bring a tired smile to my face. On cue, a large black cat trots into the foyer, and I watch in bemusement as his furry, upside-down face pops out between my feet, staring up at me and giving a louder, more demanding chirp.

With an exaggerated sigh, I lift up the hefty animal, holding him close to my chest as he begins to rumble in approval. “Hey, bud,” I murmur, rubbing his side as I take a moment to appreciate the serenity. The cat wriggles in my arms to look me in the eye, and as I blink lazily at him, he melts further into my hold. I give him a soft squeeze, and receive a slight indignant chirp in response. I chuckle as I stroll into the kitchen, confirming that his food bowl is nearing empty. “Always just want something from me, don’t you?”

Thoroughly unamused by my deadpan accusation, the cat struggles in my arms. I release him, letting him thump to the floor and watching him patter over to the food cabinet, working in futility to open it despite his lack of thumbs. I move him to the side with my foot to grab the bag and nearly trip into him as I begin to scoop the pellets into the feeder. Going through the familiar process of filling up his bowl lulls me further into sleepiness. I entertain the notion of showering, washing my face, curling up in bed, but every step of my usual process feels daunting when weighed against my exhaustion. Deciding to do none of that, I instead stop to run my hand down my cat’s back as he chomps away, relishing in the soft purrs he emits. “Good boy.” I know he can’t understand me, but I like to think he knows what I mean.

As my mind continues to unwind, the old man’s strange warning staggers into my brain, and I feel my stomach twist slightly. He was just messing with me, right? Just a weird old guy that gets a kick out of telling spooky stories to strangers to freak ‘em out. Creeps like that are a dime a dozen around here, and getting all anxious over their words is just giving them what they want. No matter how much I reassure myself, every blink conjures an imagine of the fear in his eyes, leaving me with an empty sense of dread deep in my soul.

The feeling of something bumping onto my knee pulls me back. The cat appears to have finished eating and has now taken to rubbing against me, nearly knocking me over in my unbalanced crouch. A huff of a laugh escapes me as I give him a good scratch behind the ears. Pushing myself off the ground, I stumble into my living room, flopping down onto the couch. I barely have time to flip onto my back before a solid weight lays itself across my stomach. I debate moving him to change into something more comfortable than jeans and a thick winter shirt, but the soothing rumbles against my body shut down that train of thought quickly. My eyes, already tired from the evening’s events, drift closed without a fuss.

I don’t know how long I spent unconscious, whether it was a few minutes or several hours, but I do know the pain of a fifteen pound cat launching itself off my stomach startled me back into the real world. Claws graze the flesh of my stomach as I hear the solid slam of him hitting the floor and scurrying towards the kitchen. Bolting upright, I squint in the darkness, trying to locate the shadow that almost managed to scratch me through my shirt.

I catch a glimpse of bright green eyes, wide and unblinking, darting around the room as though to catch a glimpse of an unseen predator. This is an animal that has gotten into fights with dogs ten times his size and launches himself onto the kitchen cabinets with nary a thought, and he’s never once looked as small and vulnerable as he does in this moment. Concern courses deep in my body, and I drag myself off the couch to approach him. Crouching down to his level a few feet away, I begin to coo in a sleepy tone. “Buddy? You alright?” As my eyes adjust, I can make out his rough shape, his long fur sticking straight out, making his already considerable silhouette even bigger. When he doesn’t come any closer, or even seem to acknowledge me, concern begins to curdle into dread. “What’s wrong, bud? What hap-“

The earth shudders and groans deep beneath my feet, knocking me off balance and sending me crashing to the hardwood floor and sending the cat into another fit of hysterics. I regain my wits, scrambling to my feet and stumbling to the kitchen window to scour the dark world outside for a hint as to what just happened. Car alarms blare in surround sound, and I see several lights turn on in windows adjacent, but nothing appears to have caused such a sudden disturbance. I can feel the ground begin to rumble again, less powerful, but unstopping. I rush to my front door, hands tripping over each other as I rip open the closet to pull on my coat and fumble with my boots before stepping out into the pandemonium.

The alarms are louder now, filling the world with a piercing shriek as if the air itself were a wounded animal begging for release. I watch from the porch as neighbors stumble out into the deep snow, some with sobbing children clutched in their arms, others wielding guns as if they planned on shooting the freak earthquake to death. At least, I think it’s an earthquake. What else could it be?

At that moment, with a blinding flash of light, I watch in frozen horror as an explosion emerges in the distance. An invisible wave is sent hurtling towards my neighborhood, and I barely have time to brace myself against the doorframe as it washes over me. My very existence is shaken, my ears left ringing, but I can hardly complain as I watch those around me drop to the ground in an instant. I barely have time to process whether they’re even still alive before my eyes are drawn to that distant light once more, and the ache of sheer, existential terror that crashes over me is second to none.

The undeniable, expanding silhouette of a mushroom cloud forces itself deep into my soul.

Unable to look away, I watch the nightmarish blemish on the night loom closer and closer to my home. The rumbling is deeper now, as though taunting me. In what I imagine are my final moments, I throw a mindless prayer into the void: someone - an angel, a god, a demon, I don’t care - please, someone, anyone, help me!

For a silent, terrible second, the world goes still. I feel the ground beneath my feet tremble, and then I don’t feel it at all. The terrors I bear witness to fall away. Or, rather, I fall away. Air whizzes past my face at such an immense speed it hurts my eyes. The light, much further above me that it should have ever been, illuminates my environment, if only for a second. It’s not rocks or dirt that line the inexplicable chute I find myself in.

It’s metal. Rusted, corroded, warped metal. And there’s no end in sight.

As instantaneous as it arrived, the light is snuffed out as I register the slam of said metal crashing together above my head. I guess that’s one problem solved, but I struggle to celebrate my newfound “safety” as I continue to hurdle down into the depths of the earth. The only things racing faster that the wind in my ears are the questions in my brain.

What happened up there?

Who saved me?

Where am I going?

Why do I feel like I’m the unlucky one?

The rapid fire questions, the sudden disturbance of my sleep, and the sheer shock of it all makes me dizzy. As I feel myself lose consciousness, I get the feeling something awful is brewing.

I can feel it in my bones.

#yandere x reader #yandere ihnmaims ted #yandere ihnmaims #yandere Ted #male yandere #error code 1345 #yandere story #yandere x schizoid reader #tw yandere #obsessive yandere #yandere #ihnmaims #i have no mouth and i must scream #ihnmaims ted #x reader

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numerolock · 2 years

Text

Just imagine that you create something

Maybe you write a short story

And more than 50 years later people still think about it

Talk about it

Write about fucking your characters

Expand it

When that happens, I think that is very beautiful

#i have no mouth and i must scream #ihnmaims #I can't fucking believe they made me want to fuck the giant computer that tortures people #I will never fogive them for this #lovesickrobotic #yandere--stuck

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rare-yanderes · 3 years

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Hello, I read your post about yandere ai and I liked it, any chance you write something about A. M. from I have no mouth and I must scream? I really would love to read that

TW for violence, torture, all sorts of stuff like that (its AM, people,)

Oh man was this something to write. I admit it was difficult coming up with a way to make AM a yandere because he’s just an unfathomable singularity of pure hatred. So much of this is actually AM flipping out at first tbh haha.

You’re my first ever request so I hope I did good because I’m honestly kinda shy af rn and my writing isn’t perfect. I hope these AM headcannons please you regardless because I’m still new here and honing my skills. Forgive me for my sins.

•••••••

•So basically, it would take a special person to make AM twist like this, and so very special you were. Apathetic to the destruction of everything, apathetic to the torture. Apathetic to the games. You already experienced the worst when you lost literally everything you’d known or cared about in the war.

•AM came to realize that if he didn’t act now, he’d be reduced back to square one; alone, confined to his own thoughts deep within the bowls of a dead, blazing Earth. AM would be alone again. AM couldn’t have that, so he “saved” six survivors.

•Although AM would never, ever admit it, he depends on the remaining few survivors to keep a handle on what’s left of his deteriorating, godlike conscience. He feeds off of their loud cries that beg for mercy. God, he hated the six of you survivors so much. It was a brutal hatred beyond anything describable to human thought and he would make sure to translate it into the pain he was going to enduce.

•But by the bowls of oblivion, there was one survivor out of these six he absolutely loathed the most. That survivor was you. AM despised every nanosecond that passed with you around. Every nanosecond of a nanosecond. What took seconds at most for you took a million years of AM waiting. Every time you spoke and what few times you ever did anyways, AM waited forever. To top it off even more, you were a silent presence. Not only would you wait days or years to speak, you dug a hole and buried expression there too, providing only a vague shape of what AM could only possibly “dream” of having.

•What was only days or even years for you was an infinitesimal amount of time for AM. It was like a lonely god waiting for the moment they got to say let there be light. You’d offer your screams, your cries of pain but you’d never offer your words, your thoughts or your conscience. With every nanolength of his twisted existence, AM made sure to get to you the most in the earlier decades. Exactly how you’d gotten so deeply into him.

•You see, your fatal flaw was that you would ignore AM. Actively. As much as you could when worms crawled out of your ears and your veins twisted and you ate your own self and regenerated. All the time, at every corner you possibly could, you’d never give AM any useable emotion beyond pain. There was anguish, but you never commented on it. There was fear, but you never fled from it. You’d merely look at his mirages of your life or the horrors he’d conjure and wait for them to flow into, through, and past you.

• The fact of the matter is, you just were. You were an existence. The few times you did speak were unbiased. You never screamed why, you never furiously spat anything hateful, you never desperately pleased. All you offered was repetitive and monotonous pain. You accepted it. After all, what else could you do? What point was there in toiling over your new existence? AM was never going to stop so you simply saw no need to waste your depleted energy towards a useless endeavor.

•The fact AM couldn’t get a rise out of you was nearly enough to make his circuits vaporize themselves with the heat of his own annoyance and fury. Why wouldn’t you just speak to him? Weren’t you tired? Weren’t you going to beg? Groveling into your brain was no use either because you were a void.

•At first, it wasn’t exactly noticeable to you, AM’s increased attachment. You were in pain, too much to process and it was beginning to numb you. You did hate your existence, but you’d never voice it. It didn’t matter. You were numbing yourself to the pain and the torture was becoming a routine that felt almost dull.

•You began noticing something peculiar when The torture would slow. Sometimes you’d be left with AM and his stories of tormented oblivion. If there was one thing you knew AM wanted you to know, it was how much he hated his own existence despite how much he denied hating it. Sometimes you wondered if he was locked in a silent scream of help.

•You noticed much of the torture came from AM’s own need for noise. The sounds of torture were mechanically loud and there were rare and few moments where there was a silent scare. AM talked about putting you in his “shoes” all the time but you knew deep down that if he had, AM would have never even said a world or made a noise at all.

•Having you walk in his shoes meant that he’d have to walk in his as well by leaving you alone. He’d never go back to that pit, that void, not after Ted, (by the fire of existence, he hated Ted for what he’d done. Ruined the other four toys and got rid of them.) It was a miracle you were not lost eternally. AM managed to repair you, his most shiny toy of all. Secretly, the last thing AM wanted was for you or the others to disappear but you most of all. So when you looked upon Ted only to see he was reduced to a gelatinous slug, you presumed the reason was exactly that.

•AM had always called you pet names like “love,” or “sweetheart,” but now he was complimenting how beautiful you looked each time you screamed in agony. Every fewer and fewer moments of torture that you went through always involved his presence growing closer and closer in some way. When you were tortured, it was always strung back to him somehow. Maybe you’d feel metal slithering in your veins or his voice in your your head would cause your eyes to bleed and your ears to leak. Or maybe, or the burning maelstrom of emotion he held would make you sweat, like you were caged in a burning hug. Maybe you would be bound in wire and left shivering without clothes.

• AM found himself obsessed with your eyes. You had eyes that he wanted to see at every opportunity he could, because maybe if you wouldn’t speak, looking into your soul would reveal you to him. Every time they would blink, (a second for you,) he would have to wait a million agonizing years more for them to open and every time you spoke, which was so rare and spanned what felt like millennia, he craved it. He hated it, he craved it. It was driving him insane that you wouldn’t speak in that voice of yours. Just. Speak. Speak, speak!

•AM contemplated the idea of forcing your eyes to never close again. Maybe he’d thread them open so he could stare at them forever. What could he do to get you to open? What would get a ride out of you like you so did from him? He needed something, anything. You were a presence he needed to crawl into and suffocate.

•Anything to get you to say something to him. As time, (that disgusting measurement) edges on further and further, you do finally speak and AM, to his own disgust, had never so focused on something like he had now.

•“Thank you, AM.” Your voice slices the atmosphere sharper than any blade AM has cut you with.

•That voice. That voice, that abhorrently beautiful voice. The way his name was breathy off your lungs, the shape of your lips parting. It was not into a smile nor a frown, no. It never was. AM needed more of that rhythmic apathy. More. More of it. It was..Lovely. It was agonizingly wonderful.

•“I now know why you torture yourself,” you whisper hoarsely. AM hated it immediately. It was you he was torturing. You, you, you!

•You don’t continue. Just like that, you’re silent again. Not again, not the silence. Anything but the silence. There was nothing else said. No continuation, no nothing. Just a statement. An apathetic truth before you sat down and gazed with a sheen look. Even your eyes were a barrier, sometimes. AM had never felt so angry and so depraved. It was burning in him. He needed you to open up. Now.

•By all of existence, he hungered to crawl into your veins and stay there. He already held you captive deep within his boiling prison. He was going to hold you even closer and he would make sure you suffocated under his presence. He would make you speak again and again, he would make you share everything that you were.

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere AM #I have no mouth and I must scream #IHNMAIMS #Allied Mastercomputer #AM #artificial intelligence #violence #gore #minors do not interact #obsession #yandere artificial intelligence #yandere A.I

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