#sun.exe

Curiosity opens locked doors… 7.7k words

Reader x Sun.exe

Commission Info

I have returned with another request from the sweet @catbeastaisha who let me once more get into my Run Moonware AU but with a focus on Sun.exe this time around! You've got a lot of questions, and worries, about the other program you encountered in the Admin Wing. Maybe this time will go better than the last. The Sun has to be lonely in there, right?

———

The Admin Wing is as dusty as ever. You quietly plug the Data Driver into the door, the codes sparking across the screen before unlocking with a mechanical clunk. The entrance slides open, and you step back into the eerily silent space.

A lone cupcake figurine, sitting upon a table with cartoonish skates and great buck teeth stares directly at you as you stride inward. Ignoring the bulbous eyes that seem to follow you across the room, you weave through the maze of desks and dusty computers. When’s the last time people were here? Not counting you. That was a week ago.

You’re not really supposed to be here. The Costume Manor is strictly under lock and key, and Edwin, your employer, is harsh about where and when you are allowed into certain areas. It’s often not a problem, considering that most of your work is confined to a computer in the security office. 

But you have thought of nothing else but the glitching octaves of the program upon the computer in the tucked away office here. It haunts you in the quiet. The face, the one eye of The Sun stared at you as if you were vermin, a little bug that needed to be squashed and swept away.  

Help I keep making OCs. Meet moon.exe, one of 3 Helpi programs designed to help dca themes bots within the starbench mafia au.

I also have a cuddle drawing including the other two

I can't get over these three, they're brainrotting me

I love your characterisation for Moon already, I love the mystery about him as this new form, but the familiarity of being a little bastard all the same. Do you have anything in mind for Sun in this story, or are you thinking of keeping this a Moon-fic? I understand it’s more difficult exploring where Sunny could fit in the world there

Really looking forward to seeing more posts about your ideas!! 💛💛

Ah, thank you!! I'm glad you'd asked <3

I had to think about it. It would make sense to keep it strictly Moon-centric, but I do wonder what a program of The Sun would be like. Not as the symbol for Fiona in Moon.exe, but in the same vein as The Moon where he's programed and part of a mysterious game when the secretary first meets him.

Edwin gave you a Data Driver. He told you there are mailboxes scattered around the facility that he needs you to access and take all the messages from. More of the same deal. Yeah, same deal.

Edwin warns you that your clearance is very low-level. For now, you'll go where he directs you and not one step more. You're not sure what that means, but you say "Yes, sir" and that seems to let him return to whatever he usually does when he skulks back to his house on the hill. You're not even sure how he seems to slip back and forth between the facility and his home, but you don't ask questions because that usually agitates Edwin.

The Data Driver's small computer sits heavy on your side. The cord is long and curls just below the hefty tool. As you traverse through the facility, you wander through all the costumes sticked together with great big grins and hulking presences that seem to crowd you even as you take a wide path around them.

It's practically abandoned. Half of the lights barely flicker on when you enter a new room and there is not a soul in sight. But that's a good thing. You tell yourself over and over that it's only you, so there's nothing to fear.

It's too bad The Moon can't follow you from the computer in the security office. You thought about asking him if he could throw himself into the Data Driver, but you always bite your tongue before making such a proposal. It feels... like too much. Like he'll say no and for some reason, you'll get all twisted about it.

It wouldn't be much help on the silent device anyways. He would probably find more ways to mess with you—refusing to let open doors or declaring that you're in the wrong place. You could already see the furious half pleas and half insults you'd sling until he'd open it up.

You come upon the Admin Wing. The symbols on the screen shift, temporary granting you access as you step into the office space shaped by desks and couches, and lots, and lots of cupcake figurines. They don't move nor make sounds, but you don't like their dull, lifeless eyes. They seem to shift when you look away, but you can never catch the things in the act.

So, you ignore it and step along, quick to find a mailbox with the envelope symbol upon it, and jam the thing in. The seconds drag on, and you anxiously turn and look around you.

It's all so lifeless. What happened to this place? Could so much betrayal by employees really bring a company to its knees like this?

The download finishes, and you work your way towards the Executive Suite. There's one more mailbox. That's what Edwin said. Right by the desk before you walk into his office.

It's just a big odd that you have to crawl through a vent in order to reach it, but at least it's not a disembodied program locking you in your workspace, right?

Once in the office, you snag the mailboxes, and sigh with a slightly aching back at the open vent again. Can't the door just open? You peer at the computer monitor stuffed upon the desk. There are a few papers, dusty and forgotten, scattered around the surface. There's that big yellow chicken on it. Chica. The drawings are cute—unlike so much else in this place.

You bend down to flick the monitor on. Maybe it'll give you some code or access and let you unlock the door. You don't feel like crawling through the creaking, dust mote speckled vents again.

It flickers to life not unlike a zombie tearing up through dirt and grass, slowly crawling back to join the land of the living. With a whirl and groan from the computer, the screen burns bright green before a screeching, high pitch decimal emits from the machine.

You startle backwards, hands rising to clap over your ears. Flashing and disconnected lines and numbers erupt in black and green, and you catch one sensical line in the chaos reading Sun.exe before it stops.

In a large, screaming font, you read:

DON'T GO DON'T GO DON'T GO

The computer stalls. As if a coughing breath, the fans of the computer punch faster, and you find a strangely familiar figure centered upon the screen.

Your lips part slowly. The program's head is round, but shadowed, concealing one eye in black pixels while a crown of sharp spikes rings about it. Its muscular figure is unmistakable with toned arms and a straightforward and unreadable expression. It stares deeply into you with its one-eyed gaze—as if the opposite piece to the puzzle that is The Moon.

You're not—

The text tops and corrects itself.

You do not have permission to access my program. Rule-breaker.

You glance around yourself, as if looking for help. You don't find any. "I just wanted to get out of here, through the door."

The program stares without blinking. Yet, you feel a blade-like disdain falling upon you, like an executioner's sword.

A cold shiver crawls down your back.

"I didn't know there was another game," you give awkwardly. "Are you a character on another level? Are you called The Sun?"

New friend, I will alert security to your presence if you don't leave.

The smile on the program tilts. The degree becomes lethal, as thin as a razor blade.

Or I'll put you in time out.

You cross your arms. In a defiant, almost taunt like utterance, you say "You're not being very helpful. Just open the door and I'll get out of your way."

The program is motionless, like a mannequin, like a doll with one, glassy eye. His smile looks down on you from far, far above.

You look back, uncomfortably pressing your fingers into the flesh of your arms before you resign yourself to another less than stellar version of the game you encountered. Curiously, you linger for a moment, wondering if he's connected to other things like The Moon is. Could The Sun join the lunar side on your computer?

Not that you would dare ask him now.

"Can you open the door?" you ask, a bit softer this time.

The program upturns it's one eye as if it finds you utterly adorable in your stupidity.

This program is off limitsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Lines begin running up and down the black space on either side of The Sun. Binary numbers overlapping and beginning to crowd the screen. The 's' continues, bleeding off screen as a groan arises from the computer. You take one step forward, arms raised in alarm as if to reach for The Sun.

"What's wrong? What's happening? Can I help?"

Another high pitch audio screech admits from the device. You flinch back. The door slides open with a heavy thunk, dust swirling in the snap motion.

The Sun dissolves in the background, glitching in and out of view, appearing before being half of his pixels are ripped a parted, and the text box stretches across the screen.

GET OUT!

You bolt away, nearly knocking against the door frame before it seals up behind you with an angry slap of metal. You turn back briefly to catch the glow of green and black flashing in agonized sequences. Clutching the Data Driver tight to your chest, you breathlessly scurry out of the Admin Wing.

Im very entertained by your bits on this little au Naff <3

Upon Asmundr’s death, Éildorn didn’t really... return to Falias Thorp with his partner, instead he buried him. Taking some of his warden attire as a memento, at this point he was... angry. The sorrow and guilt had not kicked in, and he wanted to kill any courtier he saw and hopefully join his lover soon enough.

He was a mix of emotions, scared, confused, but anger stuck out the most. During this blind rage he was unable to pin the blame on him, not yet. He was far too angry that he had allowed courtiers to kill someone so dear to him. When he is able to clear his mind, and (somewhat) calm down -- Éildorn made a decision. 

It didn’t matter if he died, or how he died. But he would bring some courtiers with him, he was determined to at least kill a few as some sort of petty revenge - to try and make himself feel better. He wasted no time hunting down lone courtiers, and killing them. He didn’t care if he did it without mercy, he was hurting. He wanted them to hurt.