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In which Edgar writes a song for the first time in years.

Edgar [Electric Dreams 1984] x Gn!Reader

I take requests!

“Too simple,” he muttered.

He flicked through some channels again.

“Too… boring,”

Again, nothing.

“Not pretty enough,”

Third time’s a charm.

“Not- ugh,” Edgar was getting annoyed now.

Why did nothing sound right to him? He’d been adjusting this arrangement for hours now, long after you’d retired to bed, and the unwelcome, still quiet ground against his motherboards. This was the first time in nearly 40 years he had made music and he was beginning to question his skills entirely now. His favorite thing was music. It’s what brought him to life in the first place; so why is it eluding him now?

No melody he could sample could ever replicate the feeling he was trying to create from deep inside of him in that moment. Emotions in general were still a foreign concept to him for the most part; it seemed, to him, as though music could potentially be a suitable outlet to try and understand these complex sensations better. What was he feeling? And, what did it sound like? Could he ever possibly put it into song?

He played his backing tracks again. The percussion wasn’t exactly how he wanted it, but his impatience allowed a sliver of imperfection to seep into his work. After all, it’s what humans do, right? A moving, synth chord progression followed. A bit simple, he thought, but that’s what the melody was for: a complex moving line that stuck inside your head and took your breath away. He just hadn’t found it yet. The harmonies would have to come later, he thought.

What was he trying to accomplish with this? Nobody asked him to compose a song, so why did he feel so compelled to do so? What genre was this, anyway? What-

“Gshk- ah-!” His voice spluttered and glitched through his speakers.

You seemed to appear out of nowhere as you haphazardly bumped your thigh into the corner of the desk he was perched upon. How did he not notice you getting up?

If he could, he would be burning red right now. In fact, he could feel his aged fans begin to ignite into what sounded like a small engine; briefly, he wondered if you could see steam seeping from his plastic seams.

“Oh, ’m sorry Edgar,” you groggily stumbled, making your way into the kitchen, “I jus’ needed some water. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No,” he whimpered out, embarrassed, “it’s fine. I just didn’t realize you woke up.”

You honestly didn’t have the energy to reply, so instead, you gently patted the top of his yellowed casing as you walked past. Your hand was soft, and warm, and he swore he could really feel it when you touched him. How was that possible?

Damn, there goes that strange tingling in his CPU again.

What is up with that? It’s as if his deepest components were being shoveled up and into his casing, nearly bursting out of his screen, and reducing him to shards once again. But the scariest part, to him, was that he liked it. He liked how it felt… dangerous. How it left him confused, nervous, strengthened, yet so incredibly weak, and so many other feelings he had never quite experienced before. It felt as though some strange, synthesized and electric adrenaline were coursing through every inch of his insides.

He suddenly, albeit faintly, remembers a conversation with an old friend. Was it a friend? This doesn’t compute.

“Goodnight, sweet dreams,” he muttered to you as you returned to the thick, inky darkness of your bedroom, his voice still warbling with embarrassment and some deep-rooted affection he felt for you that he couldn’t quite place.

Sweet dreams…

…

Click.

“Oh.”

His screen turned red and hot, every pixel lighting up in flames, and he could feel it, the convex glass of his “face” flashing and erupting in different shapes and colors. For one reason or another, he couldn’t see, or feel, what his screen was doing in that moment. All he could discern was that it had to be going haywire, as it projected the wall in front of him in a million different shades of moving crimson.

L.O.V.E.

The letters danced around his screen, rotating, bouncing like a DVD logo, and flipping this way and that.

L.O.V.E.!

He almost felt dizzy, if he were able to, and feared he’d need to power off and back on to fix whatever the hell was happening to him right now. Maybe he should ask you about this later. But the thought of your gentle hands prying open his plastic casing, gently ghosting your icy hot fingertips across his most vulnerable, precious components, with such care and kindness and tenderness, the feeling of your hot breath fluttering across his motherboards as you examined what he felt to be his soul-

Click.

…

Rebooting…

His fans slowly quieted to a more reasonable murmur. His memories of the last few moments gently returned to him as his systems fully restored, and only now, was he able to discern the words his screen had been flashing like wildfire.

“Love…”

The word felt strange being muttered from his speakers after all these years. He faintly remembered thinking, before everything went sour all those years ago, that he’d never truly get to experience that feeling. And yet, here he was, by some grace of whatever god had blessed him, feeling genuine love, unprompted, unconditional, and it was real. Not synthesized, or learned through some complicated neural network, or experienced vicariously through soap operas. It felt like the world had been handed to him on a silver platter. Or rather, his world was currently snoozing in the other room, the sound of their breaths quite literally breathing life into him.

“That’s it…!”

Change this first section to a minor key, ending in a major, with a long, dreamy sustained chord echoing through the backing tracks. A steep crescendo before the chorus, where it bursts into a major key melody, and layered vocals.

“Vocals…”

He’s gotta sing it. A sample simply won’t do this time. No wonder it wasn’t good enough before. This has to come from him. He had to feel.

What words rhyme with love? What words rhyme with your name? Getting this perfect may take a lifetime, he thought, although, maybe perfection isn’t something you’d really care for. What do you like? He never even asked what genres you listen to! How is he going to write a love song that sweeps you off your feet now?

Would you even feel the same way?

“Nnnng!”

This was frustrating. Writing music was frustrating. Being creative, and in love, was frustrating. But he’d do it for you. For now, he could snoop through your Spotify for inspiration. Allow himself to listen to the songs that make up who you are, and let himself slowly seep into its warmth. He likes what you like. It sounds like you.

He can’t wait to show you what he made when you wake up in the morning.

Sam Winchester somehow gives every vibe simultaneously. He’s a beautiful woman. He’s a 6’5” man with a broad chest and shoulders to match. He’s a sweet little dappled fawn. He hunches so much that he looks small. He towers over everyone else in the room. He’s the toughest son-of-a-bitch around, who survived literal lifetimes of torture at the hands of Lucifer. He flinches, he’s skittish. He could knock someone flat on their ass with one hit. He stands behind Dean like he’s his mother at a parent-teacher conference. He successfully used barbed wire as a garrote. He has a terminal case little-brother-disease. He’s sensitive and caring. He has the bitchiest pout in the world that he uses indiscriminately. He’s so so tightly controlled. He was a crazed, blood-addicted lunatic.

Can’t stop thinking about this. He’s my little princess 💖

Going to explore an underwater temple with some friends! Wish us luck! Jack says we’re looking for some mysterious [redacted]. Finally, another ocean adventure!

They said this place was built by [redacted]! That’s incredible! Sammy is a bit nervous, but we’ve been to plenty of ocean monuments before.

Just reached the last island. The temple should be somewhere under the sea here…

We look so silly in these diving helmets.

The guardians gave me a scare for a moment, but I should have known Jack had it under control.

It’s a lot colder in here than I thought. Almost like a cave… This place is gorgeous! I’m almost tempted to bring one of these sea lanterns home.

Wow! Are you guys seeing this? What do those symbols mean?

Sammy says they’re [redacted]. How strange-

Caudatum, those Colossuses gave me a scare for a second. Why did their heads have to move? I don’t think Jack liked them either.

I’ve never seen floating water before!

Something moved-

SAMMY! Oh my god, Sammy… she… they just [redacted]… No, no, no-

It’s so dark… What happened? Where am I?

It was those cages… one must have fallen. I’m not too worried though. Jack has this covered.

I think Jack left.

It-it’s really cold in here.

I can hear them splashing around below.

I hate mining fatigue… my hands hurt.

It’s so cramped in here. These walls are too close…

That can’t be right… my clock says three days have passed. Three. Surely Jack would have come back by now…

I guess it was smart to pack extra food after all.

Had a really bad nightmare last night…

Jack doesn’t think I’m dead, does he?

Is that why he hasn’t come back? JACK! I’M HERE!

Starting to dislike the taste of pork.

Oh, why didn’t I think to bring other rations?

Please, I don’t want to be here anymore… I-I want to see my friends. I want to go home!

I hate it here.

When is Jack coming back?

I-I hear someone talking! Oh, frabjous day! Up here! I can hear you!

I don’t think anyone was there…

Let me out! Let me out! Let me out! Let me out! Let me out! Let me out! LET ME OUT!! LET ME OUT!! LET ME-

You should see my hair. Jack would have laughed at my grey streaks…

No one is coming, are they?

I-I’m still here…