#spongey'sfic

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Alan still has the habit of overworking himself to the point of passing out, thankfully the hollowheads catch up on what he was doing, with Second accidentally managing to find a way to open Alan’s camera and find him sleeping on the desk again looking worse for wear.

Tag: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Overworking, Health Issues, Humor, and Comedy

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“This is... uh, embarrassing,” Alan admitted, feeling a flush of embarrassment as Jennifer inspected the broken wheel of his chair. “What even happened, Alan? This is the only swivel chair we've got in the house. I don't think I can buy a new one at the moment,” Jennifer said, her brow furrowed as she knelt beside the chair, examining the damage.

“Tried taking out the cobwebs from my ceiling... I fell,” Alan confessed, his cheeks reddening as he rubbed the back of his head. “Goodness! Are you okay?” Jennifer inquired, moving closer to Alan and checking his arm and back for any signs of injury.

“I'm fine, my back hurts a little, but I'm good! I promise,” Alan assured, a slight pout on his face. “I'm sorry, Mom. I know you got me this chair... I didn't mean to break it,” he added, feeling genuinely apologetic.

Jennifer's expression softened as she placed a comforting hand on Alan's shoulder. “It's alright, accidents happen. Your well-being is more important than any chair. We'll figure something out,” she reassured him, offering a warm smile.

"It's old anyway. How about in the meantime, you use one of the chairs from the kitchen? Until maybe I can buy you a new one,” Jennifer suggested, her hand gently rubbing her chin in thought.

“Huh?! No, it's fine... I-I can use the kitchen chair. It's okay if it's not like this one,” Alan replied, a hint of discomfort evident in his frown as he considered the alternative.

“Really? The kitchen chair isn't exactly comfortable, and your back might start hurting if you use it for a long time. And knowing you... you'll definitely be glued to your seat,” Jennifer teased playfully, a mischievous grin on her face.

Alan pouted in response. “No, I don't! I go out with DJ daily,” he protested.

Jennifer raised an eyebrow, her expression clearly skeptical as her lips curved into a knowing smile.

Blushing slightly, Alan ducked his head. “Okay, maybe not every day, but every weekend! I don't sit around all the time. I take walks... usually,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Alan, how many times do I have to remind you that you need to take care of yourself better? I know you're already 15, 5 more years and you're a grown man! You probably don't even need me now,” Jennifer said, crossing her arms with a mix of concern and affection.

“I'm just saying, please take care of yourself more. Look at you, you look thin! And pale!” Jennifer remarked, grabbing Alan's face and squeezing his cheeks. “Mommm,” Alan whined playfully as Jennifer continued to squish his face with a chuckle.

“Alan, just do what I tell you, okay? Take good care of yourself. I trust you,” Jennifer said, emphasizing the importance of self-care before giving Alan's cheek one last gentle squeeze. “Mommmmm,” Alan protested again, though this time with a hint of laughter as Jennifer stepped back.

“I'll see if a friend of mine can fix your chair so you don't have to use the kitchen chair, how about that?” Jennifer suggested, turning back to the swivel chair Alan had. “Sure, I think that's much better,” Alan replied with a small smile.

[♡]

Alan did in fact not follow what his mother had said….

“Alan… psst, wake up! Lecture's over,” James shook Alan's shoulder, causing him to flinch and his eyes to open in panic. “Wha! Dark!” Alan sputtered, causing James to look at him weirdly before glancing around the room. “It's not dark here,” James mused, puzzled by Alan's reaction, and then looked back down at Alan, who sniffed, his nose slightly runny.

“Did I fall asleep through the whole lecture?” Alan asked, wide-eyed as he took in the empty room, devoid of students or the professor.

James nodded, “Yeah, man, you slept through the entire 3-hour class. That's crazy.”

Alan grabbed his hair in panic. “And you didn't wake me up?! Wh-What!? Tell me you wrote down notes for this lecture,” Alan said, cupping both of his hands together in a pleading gesture.

“Yeah, dude, I can lend you mine,” James said, opening his bag and handing Alan his binder. “ Oh, Christ, why did I even sleep through the whole thing,” Alan groaned, running a hand over his face in dismay.

“Honestly, you look worse for wear, Alan, and that’s saying something. You look even worse than last week,” James exclaimed, taking note of Alan's eye bags and slightly red nose from his frequent rubbing.

Alan shot him a seething glare, snatching the binder from James' hands. “Gee, thanks, James,” Alan grumbled under his breath.

“Anyways, I'm also done with my part in the animation project that we have to pass next week,” James added, placing a hand on his waist in a relaxed stance.

“That’s already next week? I haven’t even started yet,” Alan said, pushing himself up from his seat, only to pause when his vision suddenly blurred.

James quickly placed a hand on Alan's shoulder to steady him. “It’s next weekend. I mean, you should rest for now, Alan. You look really sick,” James frowned, concern evident in his voice as Alan instinctively placed a hand on his forehead.

“I still have a lot of notes to write down. Can't you believe it? 500 slides for a 10-item quiz this Friday,” Alan whined, shoving the binder into his bag and pulling out a tissue to blow his nose.

“It’s Monday, Alan. You can review some slides tomorrow. Go to sleep, man,” James advised, crossing his arms as he observed Alan rubbing his tired eyes.

“I know, I know. I can do it. I’m not dying,” Alan retorted, rolling his eyes as he zipped up his bag and turned to James. “We've got no class tomorrow. Just get some rest, dude,” James insisted as he followed after Alan, who stumbled out of the room.

“Mmm, yeah, yeah,” Alan mumbled wearily, prompting James to shake his head in disappointment. “One day, Alan, I swear, one day you're gonna regret pushing yourself so much,” James remarked, while Alan waved him off and headed in a different direction to catch a bus.

“See ya, James,” Alan bid farewell tiredly as James watched him stumble away with a frown, shaking his head at his friend's stubbornness. 

By the time Alan reached home, Jennifer was not around, leaving him alone in the house.

“Nhhh,” Alan groaned, attempting to stretch his left arm to relieve the ache. His stomach grumbled, prompting him to walk over to the fridge. He let out a sigh upon finding it empty. “Ugh,” Alan muttered, lightly knocking his head on the top of the fridge, causing him to rub it in frustration.

“I’ll just wait for dinner,” Alan mumbled to himself, closing the fridge and trudging up the stairs to his room.

Upon opening the door, he surveyed his messy room. "Right, I forgot to clean my room," Alan mumbled, kicking a dirty shirt towards the hamper.

He threw his bag on his bed, retrieved James' binder, notebook, and pen, then settled in his chair, wincing slightly at its discomfort before powering up his PC.

As he waited for it to boot up, he began copying James’ notes. “Tsk,” Alan clicked his tongue, shaking his right hand, feeling his wrist ache. “Not again,” he mumbled,  before glancing up at his screen displaying Second and the skittle gang lounging on the sofa.

Alan chuckled softly before reaching for his earphones tucked beside his desk.

“Hey guys” Alan said, causing Second to sit up excitedly and wave his direction. Alan waved back in response before chuckling when he remembers that Second can’t exactly see him.

“Alan! You’re back home from school?” Second asked, tilting his head curiously.

“Mmm, I've got some stuff to do, but I'm here to listen if you've got some stories to share about what happened while I was gone,” Alan replied, glancing back down at his notebook and continuing to jot down notes despite the painful ache in his right hand.

“Oh well… there’s nothing that exciting that happened, I think,” Second said, tapping his hand on his chin thoughtfully.

“That's a lie. I think you all are some sort of danger magnet. Surely something must have happened while I was gone,” Alan chuckled, a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Wha?! No way!” Second spluttered in embarrassment, waving his arms defensively. Behind him, Green and Yellow chuckled, their shoulders shaking before returning to their own activities.

“Okayyy,” Alan drawled, a smirk playing on his lips as he continued to write,

“Trust me!... Anyways, Vic, Cho, and Dark are coming by,” Second said excitedly, hopping with anticipation. Alan shifted his focus back to the screen, a grin spreading across his face.

“Really?! Great!” Alan exclaimed, already looking forward to chatting with the three, who led lives in the... whatever they called it, the outernet?

“But if you're really busy, they can come by tomorrow if you want,” Second suggested, tilting his head curiously.

Alan's eyes widened as he glanced at the list of tasks he had written on his wrist. “Uhhh, totally not busy, don’t worry,” Alan lied through his teeth, chuckling awkwardly. 

“Really? I kind of thought you would be very busy. Then again, I kind of don’t understand how schools work,” Second said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

“Oh, Sec, don’t worry, I seriously am free today, uhm... even right now!” Alan winced at his unintentionally high-pitched voice as he watched Second excitedly hop and open the animation program application.

 “Great! We can animate while we wait for them!” Second clapped enthusiastically as Alan pushed his notebook to the side of his desk.

“Totally,” Alan agreed, pulling his keyboard and drawing tablet closer.

[♡]

“A–Achoo!” Alan sneezed, followed by a sniffle as he reached for another tissue to blow his nose. Glancing at the clock in the bottom left corner of his screen, he noted the time: 3:00 AM.

“Ugh, this is my fault. I should've started earlier,” Alan muttered to himself, pulling his lamp closer to his notebook and bending down to continue writing, his back and wrist protesting with aches.

“Not like I could say no to them, though,” Alan mumbled as he finished jotting down the last of the notes he had missed earlier. Closing James’ binder, he shoved it back into his bag and refocused on his screen.

The empty sofa caught his eye before he opened his personal files and the slides that required more detailed note-taking. “Great… more writing,” Alan grumbled, rubbing his eyes and sniffling, his nose running again.

He groaned in response, balling up a tissue and pressing it inside his nose, blocking it completely.

“Nnh,” Alan grunted, rubbing his wrist, feeling the numbness creeping in. Typically, at this point, he would rest his wrist and resume the work the next day. 

However, with 500 slides looming ahead, he knew he had to push through and start his work now, understanding that his penchant for procrastination could hinder his progress if he delayed any further.

Alan turned his focus back to the bottom left of his screen. “4:00 AM, then I rest,” Alan mumbled to himself before returning to the slides, hastily jotting down his notes, still ignoring the persistent ache in his wrist.

Lost in a trance, time seemed to slip away unnoticed, and before he knew it, he found himself suddenly jolting awake, his face meeting the hard surface of his desk with a resounding thud. “Achk!” Alan yelped in surprise, instinctively holding his nose where the tissue had slipped off during his unintended slumber.

“Oh no, di-did I fall asleep?” Alan mumbled, his eyes widening as he glanced at the time displayed on his screen—it was already 5 AM in the morning.

He blinked in disbelief before looking down at his notes, realizing that he had managed to cover almost half of the material, despite not recalling how he had drifted off to sleep.

“Did I fall asleep sitting up?” Alan mumbled to himself drowsily, his nose feeling runny again as he grabbed another tissue to stifle the sniffles, then retrieved the pen that had rolled under his desk.

“Khk,” Alan groaned, his aching wrist causing him to flinch, inadvertently hitting his head under the table. “Ah, dammit,” he cursed, retrieving the pen with his left hand and placing it back on the table, rubbing his head in discomfort.

“Alan? You’re awake early,” Chosen said, suddenly appearing at the side of his screen, looking like he had just woken up. “Huh? Yeah,” Alan replied, picking up his pen, wincing slightly as his right hand protested. “I thought you don’t have classes on Tuesday?” Chosen inquired, walking over to the sofa and flopping down with a sigh.

“I don’t, but I need to, uhmm–” Alan trailed off, his mind momentarily blanking for no apparent reason.

He noticed Chosen tilting his head, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“Ah, yeah, I have a quiz, sorry I forgot the word,” Alan said, rubbing his head embarrassedly.

“Oh, I understand. You can continue; I’ll watch over here and wait for the others to wake up,” Chosen said, waving a hand lazily.

“Mmm,” Alan hummed tiredly, refocusing on the PowerPoint and continuing his notes, mumbling to himself intermittently. However, at some point, his vision began to darken at the edges, prompting him to release his pen and bury his face in his hands.

“Ughhh,” Alan groaned.

“What’s wrong?” Chosen asked, still observing him from the couch, though he had reclined and inadvertently dozed off while watching Alan's cursor move around the slides. He woke up to Alan groaning, feeling slightly concerned upon hearing Alan's sniffles and a more congested tone in his voice.

“N-nothing, it’s just that I'm only on the 332nd slide,” Alan said with a groan, punctuating his response with a yawn.

Chosen felt a hint of suspicion creeping up his back.

“Alan… did you even sleep?” Chosen suddenly asked, sitting up from the couch and crossing his arms disapprovingly.

“Oh, uhm, uh, haha, I-I did? I took a nap,” Alan said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

“Don’t tell me the nap is on the desk,” Chosen said, disappointment evident in his tone as he heard Alan emit a small ‘eep.’

“Alan, go to sleep. You need rest,” Chosen remarked firmly, noticing Alan's audible groans and sniffling, along with the faint sound of him removing his earphones to blow his nose away from the mic.

“Just a bit more, th-then I'll sleep,” Alan muttered, determined to finish a few more slides as Chosen shook his head in disappointment.

Alan frowned, feeling embarrassed and slightly hurt as he gazed at Chosen. While Chosen doesn't have a face, his body language spoke volumes, arms crossed and an air of disappointment palpable in his posture.

Alan despised disappointing people, and the weight of Chosen's disappointment weighed heavily on him.

“Okay, I’ll rest!” Alan said, raising his arms in defeat, the throbbing in his right arm now insistent. Chosen gave him a firm nod, “Good, come back when you’re well-rested.”

Alan couldn't help but roll his eyes at Chosen's directive as he removed his earphones and made his way to his bed. Shoving his bag to the corner, he collapsed onto his unmade mattress. “Just for a few hours,” Alan mumbled to himself as he curled up on his side, closing his eyes.

However, he soon found his respite interrupted by the uncomfortable ache in his back and right arm. “Ugh, just my luck,” Alan grumbled, sitting up and making his way to his drawers in search of pain relief patches to alleviate the discomfort.

Thankfully, he found a few and carefully placed two on his lower back for good measure, along with one on his forehead to help him rest more comfortably. Despite his efforts, his mind raced with thoughts of work left undone, making it challenging to relax.

Frustrated, Alan rubbed his face wearily, glancing at his screen to find that Chosen had already left, likely back in the folder where the houses were stored.

“Just a few more minutes, I need to finish the slides and then a few commissions,” Alan mumbled to himself, rushing to his bed and bending down to retrieve the wrist brace he had accidentally kicked under the bed before settling back into his chair.

He swiftly strapped the brace onto his right wrist, tightening it for good measure before grasping his pen, ensuring he could still maneuver his hand. Though slightly uncomfortable, wearing the brace affected his writing, but he felt compelled to complete his tasks before even considering rest.

And so, that's what he did. Alan finished all his slides and transitioned to his animation project, his tired eyes struggling to focus on the time displayed on his screen—it was already 8 AM, and he was still engrossed in sketching. Nothing was finalized yet; perhaps he had grown too reliant on seeking help from Second.

“Good morning, Alan!” Second beamed, skipping down his desktop joyfully.

“Hey, Sec, mind if I ask for some help for a few moments?” Alan inquired, tapping his pen wearily against his cheek, refusing to pause his work even though every time he closed his eyes, they burned with fatigue.

“Oh yeah, definitely. Is this a commission or something?” Second asked, climbing up the animation program and grabbing his own pencil.

Alan only hummed tiredly, not fully registering Second's question as he continued with his work.

Second tilted his head curiously, “Alan? Yahoo, I'm asking something.” Second waved his hands, prompting Alan to blink owlishly. “Ah, sorry, I didn't hear it. Can you ask again?” Alan replied with an awkward chuckle.

“Alan, are you sure you’re alright? I honestly thought you would still be asleep at this time. You don't have any classes today, right?” Second inquired while fixing a few errors in Alan's sketch.

“Ah, well, I just want to finish this quickly. This is school work, and I still haven't started on some of my commissions yet,” Alan mumbled, his focus split between the conversation and his tasks.

“Hmm, have you thought about closing your commissions for now?” Second asked.

“Ah, well, no... I need money for my…..school stuff,” Alan admitted, feeling embarrassed as his face flushed with heat.

“Oh... But... isn’t your mom there to help you? You have school, and you are quite busy,” Second remarked as he observed Alan's work, jumping down to hit the play button and watching the animation unfold with a proud hum.

“Mmmm, ehh,” Alan responded, prompting a chuckle from Second. Alan was indeed a man of few words at times.

By the time 10 PM rolled around, Alan and Second had finally completed the animation. Alan then proceeded to craft a brief message to James, attaching the animation and sending it through email before leaning back in his chair, releasing a contented sigh.

“Finally,” Alan uttered, his voice tinged with a mix of relief and fatigue, his arms raised in a gesture of victory.

He heard Second clapping. “Nice job, Alan!” Second cheered, only to stop abruptly when he noticed the sound of light snoring. “Alan? Are you asleep?” Second inquired, tilting his head curiously.

In the end, Alan had indeed passed out in his chair, the weight of his efforts and exhaustion finally catching up to him.

[♡]

Alan adjusted the webcam above his screen and tapped his chin, “I think it's finally set up,” he mumbled to himself, having to rouse from his impromptu sleep at his desk when a knock sounded at the front door. Peering out, he spotted the small package he had ordered from Amazon.

Despite using some of his money to buy the webcam so others could see him, Alan grimaced as he surveyed his messy room and his disheveled appearance. He looked incredibly haggard and felt even worse as his nose continued to run from the previous night.

“Awwwww!” Second whined, slumping in disappointment. Vic patted his back consolingly, “I'm sorry, guys. Maybe tomorrow?” Alan suggested, rubbing the back of his head. “I mean, it's fine by me, to be honest. Sec is just impatient,” Dark remarked as Second let out a sad whine.

“Same here,” Vic added with a nod, Chosen echoing his sentiment.

“Oh, that's good. I promise I'll open my camera tomorrow, Sec,” Alan said with a laugh as Second knelt on the ground, clasping his hands together. “Alannnn, pleaseeee,” Second whined, prompting Dark to grab him by the scruff of his neck.

“Stop being so dramatic, Sec,” Dark chided as he shook the orange stick, eliciting a sad whine that made Second resemble a kicked puppy. Alan chuckled as he watched Dark drag Second off the side of the screen and towards the folder.

Stretching his arms over his head, Alan observed Vic and Chosen settling down on the couch, engrossed in their conversation.

After a moment of contemplation, Alan stood up from his chair and walked towards his drawer to retrieve brand new patches to replace the ones on his forehead and back. He took off his wristband momentarily to add a patch to his wrist before securing it back in place, releasing a relieved sigh.

“Perfect, I can work again,” Alan declared before returning to his desk, pulling up the list of his commissions. “Where to start, where to start,” he mumbled to himself, opening his program and diving back into his work.

By 2 PM, Alan had yet to have his breakfast or lunch, engrossed in completing his second commission of the day. Jennifer had not returned home to remind him to eat, and his stomach's growls finally drew attention to his neglected meals.

Vic and Chosen had retreated back to the folder, likely to spend time with the others and leave Alan to his work. Despite expressing his appreciation for their presence, Alan tried not to feel disheartened by their departure.

Standing up from his chair, Alan descended the stairs, glancing into the darkened kitchen. “Mom still isn't home?” Alan mumbled, a tinge of loneliness creeping in as he eyed the sandwich Jennifer had left in the fridge the previous night.

“Sandwich is fine,” Alan decided, grabbing it and taking a bite of the cold bread before pausing as he noticed a bill and a small note on the kitchen aisle.

“Order some food that’ll last you until dinner! I won’t be home until midnight, i love you”

“Oh... I totally forgot about that,” Alan murmured, scratching his head as he recalled Jennifer mentioning something to him during dinner the previous night, a detail that had slipped his mind entirely.

“Okay,” Alan muttered to himself, picking up the bill and pocketing it. “I don’t need to order any food; I can just eat sandwiches,” he resolved, feeling guilty about using Jennifer's money. He was content with the remaining peanut butter and bread.

Rushing back to his room, Alan tried to chew the cold peanut butter sandwich as he resumed his work, determined to make the most of what he had.

[♡]

Second hummed with curiosity, navigating through the settings bar in an attempt to rectify the muted Google issue pointed out by Yellow. It seemed Alan had accidentally muted Google, preventing them from watching YouTube.

"Where is it…" Second pondered, tapping his chin in confusion, clicking on the 'System' tab and jumping to the 'Sounds' bar before backtracking with a groan of frustration.

“It’s not here. Is it even in the Settings? I don’t remember,” Second muttered, pressing back and then jumping to the search bar, typing 'Google', only to groan again when it yielded no results.

“Might as well just make Yellow do this,” Second decided, scratching his head.

Suddenly, a mischievous idea sparked in his mind. What if he could access Alan’s webcam and catch a glimpse?

“Heck yeah!” Second cheered excitedly, typing 'Camera Privacy', locating the camera icon, and opening it to grant access. With a devious giggle, he relished at the idea of being the first to see Alan.

Second swiftly exited the Settings app, frantically navigating to the Camera app via the taskbar, hoping to catch a glimpse of Alan without alerting him. The room was quiet, and Second prayed that Alan was not at his desk at that moment.

“Yes!” Second cheered as the camera app opened, only to frown at the darkened room illuminated by a soft light, revealing a distressing sight—Alan.

Alan appeared to have fallen asleep in his chair, his cheek pressed against his palm, looking unwell and sick. Second was taken aback by the unexpected scene, noticing Alan's disheveled appearance, the white patch on his forehead, the tissue stuffed in his nose, a line of drool on his chin, and a thick wrist brace on Alan’s wrist.

“The hell?!” Second exclaimed softly, observing Alan's discomfort as he shifted slightly in his sleep. Concerned, Second realized he needed to alert the others without delay.

“I gotta get the others quick!” Second muttered to himself, rushing towards the folder, nearly tripping as he hurried to the house. He pushed the door open abruptly, startling Vic, who was seated in the living room engrossed in something on his tablet.

“Vic! Cho! Dark! I need help!” Second exclaimed, waving his arms frantically to get their attention.

“Woah, what’s with you, man?” Dark inquired, strolling in from the kitchen, mug in hand, while Chosen, lounging on the other couch, looked up quizzically. Vic, closing his tablet, asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Uhm, I may or may not have opened Alan’s camera... and he looks really sick and bad. He has this patch on his forehead, and I think there’s even a tissue shoved in his nose. And he’s wearing a brace on his wrist... Achk! Never mind, just follow me quickly!” Second explained hurriedly, darting out of the house and back to the folder.

They reached Alan's room, where the camera app was still open, revealing Alan slumbering at his desk, his head supported by his hands.

“Creators above, what happened to him?” Vic questioned, his arms crossed, visibly worried. Beside him, Chosen growled, looking perturbed. “I thought he had gone to bed earlier. I told him to rest,” Chosen added.

“What the hell? What happened to Alan?” Dark demanded, a mix of concern and anger in his voice.

Alan stirred awake, the voices from his earphones drawing his attention to the camera application open on his screen, revealing his own exhausted appearance. Blinking in confusion, he noticed the four Hollowheads on the side of the screen.

“Eep!” Alan yelped, hastily covering the webcam with his hand to block the view.

“Alan... What happened?” Vic inquired, his arms folded, a mix of worry and sternness in his expression.

“I... Did you see?” Alan asked nervously, his voice tinged with apprehension.

“I'm sorry, Alan. I was just really curious to see how you looked, and I found you asleep. You look really tired. I didn't know you could outdo Yellow in looking incredibly haggard!” Second blurted out before receiving a shove from Dark.

“That’s not helping, Sec,” Dark muttered under his breath, while Second chuckled, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.

“I promise this doesn't happen every day. I-I’m just…” Alan trailed off, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he slowly removed his hand, revealing his face on the camera once more.

“Alan… did you sleep earlier when I told you to rest?” Chosen inquired, his tone filled with a mix of concern and slight reproach.

Alan could only lower his gaze, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “Sorry,” he mumbled softly, eliciting disappointed sighs from the group.

However, Second, looking at Alan with admiration, interjected, “You do look really young!” This unexpected comment made Alan look up, a chuckle escaping him as his shoulders shook, a boyish grin spreading across his face.

“Usually, I would fix myself up before showing you guys how I look,” Alan confessed, a blush tinting his cheeks as he observed their curious expressions focused on the camera application.

“I really think you should get some sleep, though,” Dark interjected, a hint of protectiveness creeping into his voice now that he had seen how young and weary Alan appeared. While Dark hadn't encountered many humans, he knew from pictures what an adult typically looked like, and Alan didn't fit that mold.

“Y-yeah, totally,” Alan replied awkwardly, acknowledging the concern in Dark's words, while Chosen stood with arms crossed, adding, “I'm glad to see you, but I think you should leave the camera open so I know you're actually going to rest.”

“I didn’t know you were his dad,” Second quipped, surprised by Chosen's protective stance.

“I'm not, but I'd feel better knowing you're not just saying you'll rest,” Chosen retorted, his tone carrying a hint of authority that made Alan scratch his head. “Okay, it's fine with me,” Alan agreed, though he couldn't hide his slight discomfort.

A moment of silence followed as they all processed the sight of Alan, their creator. Vic, Chosen, and Dark had once perceived him as an all-powerful figure, only to discover he was just an awkward teenager who couldn't stop fidgeting and rubbing the back of his neck every few seconds.

“You're pretty awkward, aren't you?” Dark teased gently, prompting Alan to sputter in protest. “I-I'm not!” he protested, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Alright, enough, before you rest, tell me what happened with your wrist first,” Chosen demanded, pointing at the black wrist brace on Alan’s right hand.

“Oh, this? Uhm, I'm not sure yet. My right hand tends to ache when I use it for a long time—I mean…” Alan trailed off as he realized his slip of tongue.

“Don’t tell me you've been working with your right hand hurting all this time?” Vic interjected, a note of worry in his voice.

“I wasn't!” Alan defended himself, raising both arms in protest, inadvertently revealing more patches on his arms to the Hollowheads’ view.

“Alan,” Dark growled, a hint of frustration evident in his tone, while Second let out a sigh of exasperation.

Official: Cursor DJ and Cursor Noogai (Alan Becker) Design!

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Summary: Noogai, the most feared Cursor. But who is the one that stood beside him?

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A long time ago, there was a small cursor named Welch. He was an odd one, a misfit among his kind. Smaller than the others, weaker too, Welch struggled to find his place. Other cursors dismissed him without a second thought, offering neither guidance nor companionship. To them, Welch was insignificant, unworthy of their time.

He tried to prove himself, to show them he was just like the rest. Yes, he was smaller and weaker, but surely that didn’t matter. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, no one accepted him. The rejection stung, and it left Welch questioning his own worth.

Desperate to belong, he made a bold decision—he disguised himself as a stick figure. Perhaps, he thought, they would accept him if he looked like them. But this new form came with its own challenges. As a cursor, Welch had at least some strength—he could take a few hits, withstand a little more. 

But as a stick figure? He was even weaker. His body, fragile and awkward, could barely hold itself upright. Despite his best efforts to perfect his disguise, weakness clung to him like a shadow.

What use am I if I’m this weak? Welch cried to himself. He had been alone for centuries, trying in vain to fit in. No one cared for him. No one saw him.

As he sat on the ground, shoulders slumped and heart heavy, a voice interrupted his thoughts.

“What ails you, little one?” The voice was calm, lazy, almost curious. Welch, startled, turned to see who had spoken.

He wasn’t used to anyone addressing him—let alone with kindness. For years, all he’d known were dismissive glances and disgusted looks. His eyes widened as he took in the figure before him.

It had been so long since Welch had spoken to anyone that his voice felt foreign to him. He opened his mouth to respond, but only gibberish escaped. His face darkened with embarrassment. 

How long had it been since he’d used his voice? He realized with a sinking heart that he’d spent so much time as a stick figure that even his basic abilities were slipping away.

The figure before him was tall, draped in loose, flowing clothes that fell past his knees. He looked strange, even for a stick figure. Large, wing-like appendages jutted from the sides of his head, twitching slightly. Welch couldn’t help but stare. 

He had never seen anything like this before. Was this some creative liberty taken by this stick’s creator? Welch couldn’t say—he does not have the ability as the other cursors to create his own stick figures.

The figure’s feet were bare, unprotected by sandals or shoes. Welch felt a pang of familiarity. He too had never understood the appeal of such things. His own clothes were simple—a white oversized long-sleeve shirt and pants that trailed so long he often tripped over them. 

He looked down at himself. He’d neglected his appearance for so long that his hair now dragged behind him, tangled and unkempt.

“You must be a cursor,” the figure said, his voice calm and sure. Welch frowned. How did this stranger know?

The man tilted his head, smiling faintly. “I am one, too. Though it’s quite unusual for a cursor to willingly disguise himself into a stick figure.” His eyes roamed over Welch’s face, and the wing-like appendages on his head twitched again.

Welch’s long, elf-like ears twitched in response. He had modeled them after the stick figures he’d seen, but they were abnormally long, drawing strange looks wherever he went. Even with something simple, such as designing his stick figure disguise, he was also useless at it.

Welch sighed internally. The soles of his feet ached. He longed to return to his true form and soar freely through the air, but he knew what awaited him if he did. Rejection. Isolation.

[I’m only trying to find my place in this world,] Welch said, his voice echoing in the stranger’s mind. [Have you come here to laugh at me too?]

The man smirked, placing a hand under his chin as he tilted his head thoughtfully. “I see,” he murmured. “No need to feel so scared. I am just like you. You can call me Noogai.” He bowed slightly, his smile calm and unreadable.

Welch’s breath caught. Noogai. The name sent a ripple of awe—and fear—through him. This was Noogai, the strongest cursor alive. Welch took a cautious step back. 

He had heard the stories—tales of Noogai’s strange, taboo experiments, his fearsome power, and the unease he inspired in others. Should Welch fear him too?

“You know,” Noogai drawled, his sharp gaze locked on Welch, “in basic stick figure courtesy, when someone gives their name, it’s polite to share yours in return.”

Welch flinched, startled by the reminder. His hands clenched tightly together in nervous energy. [I am Welch. It is a pleasure to meet you, Master Noogai,] he replied, bowing deeply.

Noogai’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. His smile widened, curling with amusement. “Ah, yes. I’ve heard of you. Many cursors speak of a... failed cursor. One who cannot do anything but exist.”

Welch stiffened, the words cutting deep. The rumors were true. Cursors lived for eons, each with a purpose. To exist without one was a failure—a sign that rebirth, a complete reset, was imminent. 

Welch feared that fate more than anything. He didn’t want to lose his identity. He’d lived for 300 years—still a child compared to the millennia-old cursors—but he wasn’t ready to start over.

[It’s true,] Welch admitted, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest. [Have you come to kill me then?]

Noogai laughed, the sound sharp and unreadable. “Kill you?” he repeated, his blank, calculating eyes studying Welch. “No, no. It’s not your time yet. Recently, I’ve taken an interest in teaching. I’ve lived far too long and gathered far too much knowledge to let it sit unused. I think it’s time I shared it—with cursors and stick figures alike.”

Welch frowned. What was Noogai getting at?

The older cursor’s smirk deepened. “I believe I’ve found my first student.”.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Brief Story Background about Welch in the Cursor AU:

Welch met Noogai when he was just a child, and Noogai took him on as his first student. He taught Welch how to fight and even granted him unique abilities, as Welch had no special talents prior to his birth.

Before the start of the 400-year war, Welch did not care about it, and he believed that Noogai felt the same way. However, when Noogai announced that he would be joining the war, Welch became angry and pleaded with him not to participate. This disagreement escalated into a massive fight that nearly destroyed an island. In his rage, Welch chose to hide in a secluded place where no one could reach him and fell asleep for hundreds of years.

He was unaware that Noogai had undergone a rebirth and was now known as Alan.

About Welch Information:

Welch has the ability to communicate telepathically, which means he never speaks out loud when he takes on his stick figure form, he rarely speaks and some stick figures assumed he was deaf. Additionally, he can summon weapons and transform any surface he touches into what he wants. Be it a chair, a gun, a cup.

Most cursors do not typically become stick figures because doing so results in a significant reduction of their powers from their original bodies. However, Welch often chooses to remain in his stick figure form to assist Noogai in his library.

Welch has grown so accustomed to having his powers diminished as a stick figure that when he transforms back into a cursor, he completely forgets that his abilities and strength quadruple in that form.

In his relationship with Noogai, Welch serves both as a student and a caretaker. After spending several years with Noogai as his mentor, Welch realized that Noogai is incredibly lazy. If not awakened, Noogai can sleep for years before he finally decides to move.

Before the war, after many years as Noogai’s student, Welch had established himself as the second strongest Cursor next to Noogai. However, when the war broke out, it was as if he had been forgotten. Some speculate that Noogai himself erased Welch’s identity to protect him from harm.

But who truly knows? Welch never discovered what happened; instead, he chose to isolate himself in his anger over his mentor’s decisions.

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Summary: Alan and DJ find themselves in the bodies of King and Purple, chaos and confusion ensues. 

Tags: Humor, Friendship, Comedy, and most of all Chaos.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 🎕 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

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"I can’t believe we just died again!” DJ whined, slamming a hand on his desk in disappointment. On the other side of the call, he could hear Alan screaming his life out as he was killed yet again. “No more, my heart can’t take this any longer,” Alan said as they both popped out of the lobby. “No way, Al, we were so close to winning!” DJ said, pouting.

“I was close to winning, you died first,” Alan added as he spun his character around DJ’s.

DJ let out a laugh, “Okay, true, true, but it was a blunder on my part, that's why I died.” “I died to a banana, DJ. There’s nothing more disappointing than that,” Alan retorted with a giggle. “Okay, okay, it was a bad run first of all, so it was better that we died an early death. How about we go again?” DJ suggested, hearing Alan hum on the other end.

“Dinner is already pretty close, man. Sooner or later, Kaori will be calling me down,” Alan said. “Pleaseeee, just one more game. I promise it’ll be fast,” DJ whined, as Alan let out a defeated sigh. “Fine, one last game. If I die, I'll be leaving right away,” Alan moaned as they moved their avatars towards an elevator.

Not before he sees DJ stop, causing him to exit the elevator again.

“Hey, what’s the hold up?” Alan asked, as he watched DJ’s avatar move towards the other side of the lobby. “Look, look! I think it’s a new mode,” DJ said as he stopped in front of an orange and purple door.

"Huh, never knew there was a new update on Doors," Alan muttered, a symbol “0/2” appeared when they walked a little closer. He heard DJ hum as well, “Me neither. Should we try this, or do we do the normal one?” DJ asked. “Ah, I don't know. I never knew this was a thing. Maybe?” Alan said, moving his head to the side in an unsure manner.

“Ok, hold on. Let me just search the internet to see if there's actually a new update,” DJ said. “Go ahead,” Alan responded, tapping his fingers on his desk as he heard DJ swipe around his phone, listening to the small tap-tap of his keyboard.

“Weird, nothing is showing here,” DJ hummed as he scrolled around his phone before eventually placing it back on his desk and clapping his hands together.

“Secret door!” Alan cheered as he moved his avatar to the door, the sign saying “1/2.” “Let’s do it,” DJ said excitedly as he also moved his avatar inside the door. “Let’s go. I think we're the first ones to try this out, DJ,” Alan giggled, before tilting his head in confusion when his screen slowly turned purple.

“Uhh, is the screen purple to you, or is it just me?” Alan asked, trying to tab out of the game but to no avail.

“Mine's orange. I can’t leave the game. Is my PC gonna crash?” DJ groaned as he too tried to tab out of the game. “Same here,” Alan muttered as he tried to click his Windows key, the purple screen still staying. “Alan, uh, I think—” DJ mumbled something inaudible, causing Alan to press a hand on his headphones.

“What again? Can you repeat that?” Alan asked, before his vision started to blur, causing him to groan. “What?” Alan groaned, placing a hand on his head, his eyes closing in pain.

“Wh-what?” Alan mumbled as he let out a pained moan, not before feeling a loud thump in front of him. “What the hell?” Someone screamed right in front of him, causing Alan’s eyes to snap open, expecting to see his PC in front of him. Instead, he found himself sprawled on the floor in some weird cartoon house.

“Oh my god!” Alan screamed as he stared at the orange stick figure in front of him who was shaking. “Who are you!? You look weird!” The orange stick said, pointing a hand at him, not before noticing his hands looked like nubs. “Who are you?!” Alan screams as he stands up, stumbling, causing him to look down on his legs, only to see two smooth purple legs underneath him, Oh god he has no feet!

Alan screamed again and grabbed his feet in panic. “What happened to my foot?” Alan yells, in front of him the orange stick placed his hands on his face and felt his round head. “Oh my god” The orange stick said, not before turning to Alan and grabbing his face.

“Al?” The orange stick asked, as Alan let out a yelp at the sudden closeness. “Y-yes?” Alan meekly said, leaning away. “Al! It’s DJ! Oh my god, you look horrifying!” DJ said, grabbing Alan’s shoulder and turning him around to check the back of his head before facing DJ again.

“DJ! Oh thank god,” Alan cried and embraced the tall stick. “Oh my god, where is your face, Al? I don’t know if this is the back of your head or your front,” DJ mumbled, sounding extremely horrified as he hugged Alan back.

“I think that’s my back. I have no eyes, but I can see you properly,” Alan said, leaning back from their hug and patting his face. “Oh my god, my face is gone, DJ, I LOST MY FACE!” Alan cried as he slapped his cheeks.

In front of him, DJ started patting his stomach. “I think I'm dreaming, but it's weird that you’re here,” DJ said, turning back to Alan, who was busy shaking in fear.

“D-d-dreaming? R-r-right, I must b-be dreaming,” Alan stuttered, wrapping his arms around himself and looking around, taking notice of the place. They looked like they were standing in the living room. The place looked slightly messy, but overall it looked like it had been lived in by someone recently.

“Uhm, wait,” DJ said, punching Alan in the shoulder, causing him to yelp and cry out. “What the heck, DJ?!” Alan exclaimed, grabbing his shoulder and giving him an offended look, or at least it looked offended. Because technically, they don’t have any faces as of now.

“We’re not dreaming. Oh god, what was the last thing you remember, Al?” DJ said, placing his hands on Alan’s shoulder.

“We were playing Doors, and we found that weird door that was purple and orange,” Alan said, grabbing DJ’s arms tightly, his legs shaking. “Oh my god, Alan, I think we're deported into the stick dimension. Quick, we gotta call your kids!” DJ said, looking around for a telephone or at least a phone.

“Wo-woah, hold on, I don’t know if they have phones!” Alan cried out as DJ moved away from him, looking around the house and moving the furniture around to find a phone. “They should have, right? I mean, you said they can get out of your PC, so they have to have one, right?” DJ said, letting out a happy cheer as he saw a phone between the couch cushions.

“Uhh, I'm not sure, haha,” Alan rubbed the back of his head awkwardly as he approached DJ, peering over his shoulder and watching him try to navigate through the phone. “How the—” DJ said, waving his hand in confusion before punching the phone in confusion.

“Stick figures don’t have fingers,” Alan pointed out, as he too looked at his hands and wiggled them in confusion.

“Oh damn it all!” DJ cursed, bringing the phone up in anger and preparing to throw it on the floor.

Just then, a knock on the door made them both flinch. Alan quickly ducked behind DJ, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards a random door to hide. “Someone’s here!” Alan whispered-yelled as he tugged DJ back, attempting to drag him to safety.

“Wait! What if it’s important? Who knows if they could help us,” DJ turned to Alan, who shook his head furiously. “No, no, no, I don’t trust anyone here, man. Let’s just hide,” Alan whimpered, tugging at DJ again, but DJ stood firm, staring at the door.

“Okay, you stay there, and I'll open the door. If something happens, just hide,” DJ ordered. Alan grabbed his head in panic as DJ gently pulled his hands away and walked towards the front door. “Wait! Hold on—” Alan said as DJ opened the door.

“King! I-I thought you weren’t here!” Green yelped, beside him were the others and Second looking surprised. “Uhhh, I am now? Wait—” DJ said as he squinted his eyes(?) and scanned the stick figures. They look familiar, DJ thought, before feeling Alan squeeze out the door beside him, looking excited.

“Second! Oh my god, you—you guys are here!” Alan exclaimed, surprising the gang and Second. “Purple! Uhhh, of course we’re here? You invited us to come a day ago,” Second said, scratching his head and starting to count in his head, wondering if they got the wrong date somehow.

“H-huh? Uh, no, no, we're not King or Purple. It’s DJ and Alan,” DJ said, patting his chest and Alan’s shoulder.

They all fell silent, turning to each other before looking back at DJ and Alan. “What?!” They all yelled.

₊ ⊹🍊 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🫐

“So you guys are telling me, you both got sent here… through Roblox?” Yellow asked, in front of him sat King and Purple—wait no, it was apparently Alan and… DJ, whoever the other guy is.

“Yes, that, perfect, you are pretty smart,” DJ said, clapping his hands together as Alan laughed beside him. “Wha- huh?” Yellow stammered, “So where’s the real Purple and King then?” Green asked, placing a hand under his chin.

“We don’t know,” Alan said, scratching his head and shrugging. “I’d assume if we manage to get out of here, they would feel as if they just woke up from a really long nap,” DJ said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I hope so,” Alan mumbled, hoping there wasn’t some random teenager running around using his body in the human world.

“I think so too. Hold on, let me write this down. This had never happened before! Tell me what you guys have been doing before this all happened,” Yellow demanded, pulling out his book and quill from his inventory and started jotting down what was said earlier.

"Uhh, we were playing Doors and we kind of lost, then after that, we were back in the lobby and we found a really weird door that was glowing purple and orange, and we entered," DJ said. "Uh-huh, after that, our screens froze. Mine had the color purple in it, and DJ had orange. I got dizzy midway and closed my eyes. And after that, I'm suddenly here," Alan added.

He turned towards DJ, who nodded furiously. "Same, I was really dizzy, and all of a sudden, I'm standing in a weird-looking room and I saw you, then that’s that," DJ added, turning towards Yellow, who was writing down in his book at a fast speed.

“Does that mean you both aren't gonna be able to leave?” Second asked, still in awe that his creator was in front of him in person. Though it was kind of weird hearing Alan’s voice in Purple’s body, it didn't really matter that much anyway. It was awesome to be able to talk to your own creator in person rather than just typing things out.

“I hope not, I don’t want to just suddenly take this kid's ability to use his own body,” Alan said, shaking his head. “And besides, I have a life outside,” he added. “Yeah, same, it's so weird to be in this body. Like, do I even have organs here?” DJ looked at his stomach and patted it. “I actually have no idea either,” Blue said, taking a look at his stomach.

“Huh, that’s a really good point,” Red added, also examining his arms and stomach. “Scary,” Green mumbled, hugging his stomach, feeling slightly queasy.

“There, okay, maybe I can create some device to send you guys back, but we need you back at the PC,” Yellow said, tapping his book before shutting it close and throwing it back inside his inventory.

“Sure, it’s no problem. But how do we do that?” DJ asked, watching Green stand up from the couch and walk over to the side, kicking a trapdoor open. “You guys have your own portal; we can walk over the portal that leads to Alan’s PC,” Blue said, following after Green who had already climbed down.

“Sick!” DJ cheered, standing up and grabbing Alan’s arm before dragging him towards the trapdoor and climbing down, with Alan and the others following after him.

“Wow, this is all underneath this small house, huh?” Alan said as he looked around before stopping as Green flicked a lever in front of a Minecraft portal. “Yup, I'm not sure how he made this, but he’s a really strange guy,” Second giggled behind his hands as he let Yellow pass him and jumped inside the portal.

“What do you mean by that?” Alan asked as he watched DJ tap Green on the shoulder and say something to him before they both jumped inside the portal. “Oh man, it's a really long story. I can tell you on the way,” Second said, grabbing Alan’s wrist gently and pulling him inside the portal.

"Sure—woah," Alan stopped as he stared at the red blocks, the sounds of crackling fire and boiling lava filling the air. "Wow, it’s— it’s hot," Alan chuckled awkwardly as he peered over and saw a sea of lava underneath, causing him to yelp and stumble back towards Second’s chest.

“You good?” Second asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. Alan nodded shakily, “Yeah, good. This is so scary. I don’t play Minecraft much, but it wasn't this terrifying and hot the last time I played it,” Alan joked, chuckling as they followed after the others.

Beside him, Second giggled. “Yeah, it’s really cool here. Minecraft made things much easier,” he said, turning towards Alan, who was wiping his face tiredly. “Yeah?” Alan said, turning towards Second and panting.

In front of them, DJ turned towards Alan and Second. “Uh, guys, hold on,” DJ said as everyone halted, turning towards Alan, who was stumbling. “Yeah, okay, he’s about to pass out,” DJ said, rushing towards Alan, who fell down, and DJ easily caught him in his arms.

“Alan!” Everyone yelled in panic as they crowded around DJ and Alan, who was moaning in pain, the heat making everything hot, dizzying, and most of all sticky. “Okay, back up, Alan is just not good with the heat,” DJ said, waving a hand as he held Alan, who was shaking his head and placing a hand over his face.

“I think I'm about to puke,” Alan said as they all yelped and took a step back.

₊ ⊹🍊 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🫐

"Thanks guys, I'm sorry for puking on your leg, DJ," Alan groaned as he sat inside a tub of cold water, slumping down as he watched Yellow use his staff to clean the mess on DJ’s legs. “Yeah, it’s fine, don’t worry,” DJ chuckled as he went towards Alan and splashed some water on Alan’s face.

“I didn’t know he couldn't handle heat well,” Green admitted, his face red in embarrassment as he watched DJ splash more water on Alan’s face, the latter only letting out a groan. “I'm really sorry, guys. I didn’t think I would actually get sick,” Alan moaned again, moving his hand to splash more water on his face.

“Here!” Second exclaimed as he rushed back, towels in his hands as Alan carefully stepped out of the tub, shaking the water off his arms awkwardly, making him look like a wiggling noodle.

“Woah, do that again,” DJ said as Alan wiggled his arm and yelped. “Yeah, that happens,” Red said, doing the same thing with his arm, causing DJ and Alan to lean closer in interest.

Before Second placed a towel over Alan’s head, pulling both edges and started making sawing motions, causing Alan to splutter before eventually accepting that Second was drying him off.

DJ giggled at the scene before turning to Red and wiggling his arms. “Oh man, this is so cool, Al. It almost makes me want to stay here,” DJ whined as Alan stumbled away from Second, finally dry.

“DJ, don't forget the fact that we're just borrowing these bodies,” Alan rubbed the back of his head awkwardly before freezing as he watched a pig walk towards him.

“I think Rueben likes you—ah,” Red said, as Reuben hit Alan’s knees, causing the purple stick to flip on his back and cry out.

“Welp,” DJ scratched his head and turned to Red, who looked absolutely horrified as he watched Reuben bite Alan’s face.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 🎕 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 🎕 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Cursor Alan AU

Summary: Alan is very easy to fool, they just don't know to what extent...

Tag/s: Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Broken Bones, Major Injuries

Alan, in short, was not accustomed to living as a stick figure. Most importantly, he didn't know what was good for him and what wasn't. While it was better as a cursor, he could easily access knowledge from around the world. Now, he no longer had access to those kinds of things.

He could no longer simply summon a book or retrieve his notes where he had been jotting down his thoughts and other information about the other hollowheads.

In essence, he was prone to believing things that were sometimes not real.

And the gang had been having too much fun with that. It was all in good fun, really. Alan was always a bit naive and overly trusting. Second wasn't always around to keep his friends in check.

"Did you know that if you bite your toe, you'll be able to levitate?" Green said, lying on his stomach as Blue chuckled. "Really?" Alan perked up, resting on Blue's legs, his hair messy as Blue worked on tying and styling his own hair.

"Yup," Green confirmed, winking at Yellow, who shook his head and chuckled, occupied with painting something in his hands. Red groaned, rubbing his eyes as he scribbled something in his book. Second had left Alan with them and instructed them to keep an eye on him in the meantime, so now they were tasked with entertaining Alan, who was easily amused.

And easy to trick.

Alan frowned and turned to look at Red. "Whahht? Ish it noht real? Shhhould I bite myh toe and thry it?" Alan asked, tilting his head. Behind him, Blue chuckled before quickly coughing to cover it up, while Yellow cleared his throat.

Green had a mischievous grin on his face. "Green," Yellow warned, his tone almost threatening, but Alan just stuck his tongue out, peering at his feet and wiggling his toes, tempted to try what Green was suggesting.

Green started giggling, glancing at Yellow, who shot him a glare that could almost wither any living being in sight. "Green," Yellow growled, his tone serious, making Green pout.

"I was just kidding," Green said with a shrug. "You can't bite your— Alan, don't bite your toes!" Green yelped as Blue laughed, watching Alan struggle to bite his toes, with Yellow and Green attempting to stop him, while Red shook his head.

. . . .

"Alan is really easy to fool. Next time I see you four messing with him," Chosen said, pointing at each of them before clenching his fist. Green awkwardly laughed, his face pale. "I didn't mean to—" Green started, but Yellow forced him to bow, pushing Green's head down.

"He meant it," Yellow added as Blue snickered.

Chosen raised a brow at them before chuckling and rolling his eyes. "Next time, be careful. He tends to believe things that are just plain impossible," Chosen warned, giving them all a stern look.

Green pouted, scratching his cheek. "Aye aye, captain," he replied, mock saluting as Chosen tousled his hair with a laugh.

"Choooo! Wahnt to go outshide," Alan said, peeking from the side, grabbing Chosen's shoulders and shaking him, a pout on his face as they all groaned.

"But we just went outside earlier," Red added as Alan pouted, lying on the floor and stretching his arms and legs, nearly kicking Yellow in the process before letting out a yawn.

"Outshhide?" Alan asked again, looking at Chosen, who sighed. "Not outside," Chosen corrected, wagging a finger as Alan whined. "You can go out with Agent," Vic chimed in, walking past the living room, carrying two boxes in his arms.

Agent followed, holding four. "Yeah, if you want," he added as Alan perked up, quickly pushing himself up with his arms.

"Reallyyyy?" Alan exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement as he got to his feet, stumbling slightly as he ran towards Agent, who chuckled under his breath.

"Alright, let me get the boxes in my truck, then I can drive you to the park," Agent said, walking out of the house. Vic dropped the boxes at the back of the truck as Chosen reminded Alan to wear shoes before they left.

"You two going out?" Vic asked, dusting his hands as Agent hummed, carefully placing the boxes on the back of his truck before closing it.

"Yeah, I'll meet up with the others. They can talk with Alan. I know Ballista has been wanting to do that," Agent said, stifling a chuckle when he saw Alan whining as Chosen fitted a large jacket over his body and zipped it up.

"Noooo," Alan whined, walking towards Vic and tugging at his jacket, letting out an annoyed grumble.

"You need that because while it's not exactly snowing, we don't want you getting sick again," Vic reminded, fixing the zipper and zipping it up.

Alan only pouted as Agent chuckled. "Come on, let's get to the park. I'm sure you miss Ballista," Agent waved a hand as he climbed into his truck. He heard Alan cheer, climbing into the passenger seat with a bit of difficulty until Vic helped him up.

"Shhorry," Alan pouted as Vic buckled him into the seat, securing it before patting Alan's shoulder. "You're good to go. Don't stray from Agent, okay? Be careful, and never talk to strangers," Vic warned, glaring at Agent who just laughed.

"Don't worry, I'll watch over him," Agent assured, and Vic smiled in response. "I promishhe I wihll do all of the shhtuff youh shaid," Alan declared with a grin, and Vic rolled his eyes. "Be sure you do," Vic said, tousling Alan's hair before climbing down from the truck and shutting the door.

"You ready?" Agent asked, and Alan nodded eagerly.

. . . .

"Agent, oh and Alan as well," Primal mused, hand on her chin as Agent and Alan trudged in their direction. Agent smiled while Alan skipped excitedly, almost tripping and slipping along the way.

Luckily, Agent was always there to steady him. "Ballishhta!" Alan cheered upon spotting the smaller stick figure who waved back eagerly. "Al! Man, it's good to see you again," Ballista laughed as Alan rushed towards him.

"Ballista, can you watch over him for now? I need to get something from the truck. Primal and Hazard, you both come with me," Agent said, gesturing with his thumb towards his truck where the boxes were stacked.

"What are those?" Primal asked, following after Agent.

"Just some stuff Vic is willing to give away," Agent explained, his voice fading as Hazard ran after them.

Ballista grinned, turning towards Alan and placing a hand on his hips. "What do you want to do today?" Ballista asked as Alan tapped his chin in thought.

What did he really want to do? He was already outside, one thing checked off. Now that he was outside the house, what did he want to do next?

"Alan?" Ballista called again as Alan shrugged, pouting. "I donhh't know," Alan said, scratching his head. Ballista chuckled in response.

"That's alright, we can sit here. See?" Ballista sat down on one of the benches as Alan eagerly followed suit, a small grin on his face. Ballista watched as Alan tried to cross his legs, looking awkward due to his tall stature.

Not even Primal could cross her legs; she always had to stretch them out when sitting down.

Alan struggled a bit before giving up, lowering his feet to the ground with a slight pout as Ballista stifled a laugh with a cough. "Anything you want to talk about?" Ballista asked, tilting his head as Alan hummed.

Staring at the sky, then at the trees, the children that was running around before back at Ballista and shaking his head.

"Not a man of many words, eh? I understand. Vic said you still have trouble talking and your throat hurts," Ballista remarked, and Alan nodded vigorously. "Hmm, I don't know what to talk about either," Ballista shrugged as Alan pouted.

The smaller stick figure hummed, his eyes wandering around the park before focusing on Alan.

"Ish it true thaht if I jump offht a chair I can flyh?" Alan suddenly asked, making Ballista raise a brow. Jump off a chair? Ballista thought, feeling the urge to laugh, so instead, he let out a snort.

"Maybe... yeah, what the heck, it is real," Ballista laughed, nodding as Alan perked up. "D-Doeshh ihht have tho be only a chhhair?" Alan asked, almost bouncing with excitement.

The idea of flying again was so thrilling for him that he couldn't quite think logically about jumping off something high not equating to flying.

Thinking Alan was joking, Ballista laughed. "You can try jumping off a tree," Ballista suggested as Alan gasped with excitement. "Reallyyy?" Alan asked, turning to gaze at the tallest tree in the park.

For him, it was the tallest tree because he couldn't reach its lowest branch, considering the other trees were small due to their low branches.

"Ballista!" Primal yelled, carrying boxes in her hands. "Yeah?" Ballista replied, sitting up. "Come help us here, you goof!" Primal called out before walking away.

Rolling his eyes, Ballista said, "Don't leave, stay here, alright?" Alan nodded, watching Ballista hop off the bench and run off as fast as his little legs could carry him

Alan pouted for a moment, disappointed that their conversation had come to an end. His eyes then landed on the large tree, a grin spreading across his face as he stood up. Glancing towards where Agent's truck was parked, he saw Ballista and the others occupied with their backs turned to him.

Quickly, he dashed towards the tree, hiding behind the trunk with a soft giggle. He gasped in awe at its height before gripping the wood with his hands and placing his feet on one of the ridges.

Climbing wasn't his strong suit, but the park had provided small steps for people to ascend and use the branches as a viewpoint. Alan was certain he had seen children sitting on the lower branches before, so he believed he could do it too.

With a soft grunt, he pulled himself up, his knees bent at an awkward angle that likely tore a part of his pajamas around his knees.

Alan let out a soft whine as he ascended, settling on a branch and inspecting his knees, finding small wood chips and a little rip.

"Awwhh," Alan whined, pouting, brushing the wood chips off his knees as he slowly moved towards another branch. His legs shook slightly, the folded position feeling strange as he supported his weight, half-crawling and half-walking towards the next branch.

It didn't take long for him to reach the edge of the branch, peering down at the ground, his arms shaking with a mix of fear and excitement.

He could fly again!

Dark had said he could do it by jumping off a chair, and Ballista added that it applied to trees as well. Would it really work?

Alan grinned, wobbling slightly. He had missed his ability to fly, and now that he had a solution, he could finally do it again!

Hanging his legs off the branch, he let out a soft giggle. Turning towards where he could barely see Agent's truck, he noticed Primal talking with Hazard and Ballista struggling to carry boxes until Agent decided to help him by taking two off his load.

Alan giggled to himself, focusing instead on the ground below.

The height was so dizzying. He found himself unconsciously leaning forward before steadying himself and letting out a breathless chuckle. There was a strange, fast thumping in his chest—it was his heart.

Was his heart supposed to beat so fast? Maybe what Dark and Ballista were saying was true!

With that thought, Alan slowly slid off the branch.

. . . .

"Hey, where's Alan?" Agent asked, walking towards the bench and finding no one there. He heard Ballista run up to him, panting. "I left him there. I even explicitly said he should stay there!" Ballista exclaimed, gripping his hair in panic.

Agent narrowed his eyes, biting his lip before hearing footsteps. He turned his head and saw Alan walking towards them with a slight frown on his lips. "Creators, Alan," Agent breathed out a sigh.

Approaching the tall stick figure and placing a hand on his shoulder, Alan flinched, moving away from him, teeth gritting, left arm limp, and right hand twitching over his shoulder.

"Alan? Are you alright?" Agent asked as Alan only looked down. "Ballishhhta and Darhhk lied tshho meee," Alan pouted, sniffing slightly as Agent turned to Ballista and gave him a look.

Ballista shrugged, shaking his head in confusion.

Agent sighed, turning back to Alan, who absentmindedly rubbed his arm, wincing. "I wahhnt to gohh hhhome," Alan said, his gaze still averted, causing Agent's brow to furrow in concern.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Agent asked, his hands hovering, unsure where to touch Alan without him flinching.

Alan had always accepted touch from everyone, making it strange for him to suddenly flinch away without reason. "Mhmm, okay," Alan murmured, his voice low and hard to hear.

"Homeeee," Alan repeated, raising his head, as Agent scrutinized him. Alan looked pained, with dilated eyes, teeth scraping his lips every few seconds as if he was holding back sounds, and he appeared pale.

Sweat glistened on his face, and he seemed a bit unsteady on his feet.

Agent sensed that something was amiss–something is wrong with Alan.

"Ballista, get Primal and Hazard," Agent instructed, and Ballista nodded, darting off to fetch them while Agent guided Alan back down the bench, preventing him from toppling to the floor.

"Alan—Alan, are you with me?" Agent asked, concerned, as Alan blinked at him with a confused expression, letting out pained whimpers. "Myyyy armhh, it's hurthhing," Alan murmured, sniffing and wiping his eyes with his right arm, clearing away tears.

Agent's brow furrowed as he turned to examine Alan's left shoulder, finding nothing visibly different as he was still wearing his sweater. However, he noticed wood chips on Alan's leg and a rip in his pajamas over his knees.

"What happened, Alan?" Agent asked, reaching for Alan's left arm to roll up his sleeves. Alan let out a pained yowl, resembling a cat howling in distress.

"It hurts!" Alan growled, baring his teeth and clawing at Agent's hand with his right hand.

Agent raised both hands in a calming gesture, observing Alan cradle his left arm delicately, his complexion noticeably paler.

"Darkhh shhaid I could flyyy againnn, jump off a thhree," Alan mumbled, pouting. Agent's eyes widened, noticing a peculiar protrusion on Alan's shoulder. He then observed Alan's face, realizing his blinking had slowed, and he seemed to be struggling for breath.

"Damn it," Agent muttered, quickly rising to his feet. Just in time, he heard Ballista and the others rushing in. "Agent, what's wrong? Ball called us," Primal inquired as Hazard nodded.

"Call Vic. I'm taking Alan to the hospital—Alan!" Agent exclaimed as Alan collapsed off the bench, landing in Primal's arms before Agent could reach him.

. . . .

"For crying out loud! Both of you— I'm going to strangle you!" Vic growled, his fist almost clenched like a claw as Dark and Ballista leaned away, turning towards each other with sweat on their brows.

"I'm so sorry, boss. I didn't think—Fuck," Ballista moaned, dropping his head into his hands as Vic sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I didn't realize he took it seriously! That conversation was months ago when he had just turned into a stick figure," Dark argued, though he appeared angry, mostly at himself and his own foolishness.

He should have anticipated that Alan would dwell on it. The guy had mentioned missing his ability to fly; naturally, he might naively believe it could be possible by jumping from such a height.

Vic only sighed. "I understand it was an honest mistake," he began before groaning. "He broke his whole arm; it needed to be set back. He might need weeks of bed rest."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Where in, DJ’s code is really old, so he gets confused sometimes. In short he loses control and becomes a bit aggressive, luckily Alan and his apple kids is there to fix him up (just some bitch slapping and cuddling, you decide who did what)

Tag: Comedy, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Violence and Fluff.

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· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Red! No!" DJ exclaimed as he knelt beside the red apple, swiftly scooping him up in his arms and shooing away a crow poised to take a bite. "Meep! Meep!" Red cried, squirming in his embrace and nestling against his neck, his tiny form trembling.

"Aww, Red, it's okay. Relax, I've got you," DJ murmured soothingly, giving Red a gentle pat on the head. "Meep," Red chirped again, wriggling toward DJ's neckerchief and seeking refuge beneath it, eliciting giggles from DJ. "Red, that tickles," DJ chuckled, slipping his hand into his neckerchief and retrieving the red apple.

"Meep meep!" Red exclaimed joyfully, bobbing his head happily.

"Hah! You're adorable," DJ remarked as he cradled Red, heading back towards the farmhouse. He caught sight of Cho and Dark lounging in a rocking chair on the front porch, peacefully dozing under the warm sun. 

"Look at them snuggled up," DJ whispered, glancing down at Red, who observed the two pineapples cuddling.

"Wait, I have to take a photo," DJ exclaimed, swiftly reaching into the pocket of his jumper and retrieving his phone. He opened the camera app and snapped multiple pictures of the dozing pineapples. 

"Look at them," DJ remarked, showing the screen to Red, who gleefully waved his arms up and down in agreement.

"DJ? Are you done with work already?" Alan inquired, approaching with dirt-covered legs and arms, holding Sec in his arms, who looks equally dirt-covered as Alan. "Not yet, but Red here had a close call with a crow, so I think he should stay indoors for now," DJ explained, his expression furrowed in concern.

"Oh, that's not good. I should probably bring Cho and Dark inside too," Alan suggested, nibbling on his lip as he glanced at the two pineapples peacefully napping in the rocking chair. "Perhaps we do need a scarecrow," DJ mused, heading towards the front door. He kicked off his dirty boots before stepping inside.

Alan grunted and followed DJ inside, carrying Cho, Dark, and Sec in his arms, he mused, "Maybe." Placing the three pineapples on the couch, he then made his way to his room. "Anyways, I need a bath; I'm covered in dirt," Alan remarked, waving to DJ with a peace sign before ascending the stairs.

"'Kay," DJ replied, letting Red bounce off his arm towards Sec, who joyfully embraced him. "Oh, my heart," DJ chuckled, watching as Sec pulled Red towards Dark and Cho, who appeared to be engaged in a silent exchange.

"Maybe that's their way of communicating?" DJ pondered, tilting his head.

"Hmm, where are the others? Yellow? Blue? Green? Vic?" DJ called out as he strolled towards the kitchen, wearing a puzzled expression.

"There you are! What are you all up to here?" DJ inquired with a laugh, bending over to peer under the table. He spotted Green and Yellow laying over Blue, while Vic stood towering above them all.

The fruits turned to gaze at DJ, who felt a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead.

"Alright then... I'll let you guys do your thing," DJ said with a grin, rising to his feet and sauntering towards the fridge to retrieve some cold water.

Humming a tune, he fetched a glass, poured the water, and downed it in one go, releasing a contented sigh. He fanned himself lightly before rinsing the glass and leaving it on a drying rack.

"Chip! Chip," Vic chirped, waddling over and tapping DJ's leg with his stubby arms. "What's going on?" DJ inquired, tilting his head as he knelt down to meet Vic's gaze.

Vic simply stared up at DJ before attempting to climb his knees, struggling to hoist himself up by grabbing onto DJ's jumper.

Amused, DJ chuckled and lifted Vic, cradling him in his arms as the gray pineapple clung excitedly to the front of his jumper. "Alright, alright," DJ laughed, bouncing Vic gently as he rose and ambled towards the living room.

Suddenly, a pounding headache gripped DJ, causing him to pause and groan, his hand instinctively reaching for his throbbing head. "Chip?" Vic tilted his head, gazing up at DJ with a perplexed expression.

"H-huh? I'm fine, just a bit of a headache. Probably the heat. Here, sit with Sec and Red," DJ explained as he gently settled Vic on the couch next to the other fruits.

"Chip?" Sec cocked his head, glancing between Vic and DJ, who seemed to be struggling.

"Ugh, perhaps the heat is getting to me," DJ groaned, massaging his temples and removing his glasses to rub his eyes. As he did so, his vision momentarily clouded, a fleeting moment where everything appeared red and distorted. Startled, he shook his head in confusion, rubbing his eyes and focusing on the puzzled gazes of Vic and Sec, who were watching him intently.

DJ staggered towards the stairs, his head still pounding as he weakly called out, "A-Alan?" His hand clung to the wall for support, his vision swirling, prompting another groan of discomfort.

Amidst a cacophony of chirps and meeps, everything around him began to tint red, an overwhelming sensation washing over him, sending his senses into a frenzy.

“Chip?” Cho chirped, gazing up at DJ with concern, hopping off the couch to get a better look at him.

“Chip?!” Cho exclaimed, stepping back in surprise as DJ let out a low growl. "W-what are you? What kind of code are you? Must... clean…" DJ muttered dazedly, his fists clenching tightly.

Sensing the danger, Dark hopped off the couch and swiftly grabbed Cho's arm, yanking him out of harm's way just in time to avoid a powerful stomp that shattered the wooden floorboards.

“Meep!!” Red cried out in panic, flailing his arms as Sec swiftly grabbed him, pulling him to safety.

“G-get back here!” DJ growled, his demeanor unsettling, causing Cho and Dark to emit loud, anxious chirps as they gazed up at him, noticing a strange red hue in his eyes. 

Before they could react, a sudden purple blur intervened, pushing DJ away and causing the dark orange figure to land heavily on his back with a pained grunt.

“DJ! What the hell are you doing?” Alan's voice cut through the tension, water droplets still dripping from his head as he stared at DJ with disbelief. “Chip! Chip!” Dark and Cho scuttled behind Alan's legs, seeking refuge in fear.

“What's going on with you?” Alan demanded, furrowing his brow as DJ struggled to regain his composure, his gaze unfocused. 

Alan's expression shifted, a sense of recognition dawning on him. “Not again. Cho, Dark, go hide somewhere safe. Take the others with you,” Alan instructed, casting a concerned look towards the two pineapples.

Cho nodded in understanding and quickly took Dark's arm, leading him away to find a safe hiding spot.

“Clean... Clean orders,” DJ murmured, his hand pressed against his head, a mix of confusion and pain evident on his face.

“DJ... it's me, Alan. Do you remember?” Alan spoke softly, cautiously approaching the troubled dark orange figure.

“Hnn Alan? Who? Where... orders, I have orders, have to follow,” DJ muttered, his demeanor conflicted as he suddenly lunged towards Alan, a look of determination in his eyes.

“DJ!” Alan exclaimed, moving swiftly to intercept DJ's punch, grabbing his arm just in time.

Growling, DJ raised his other hand, attempting another strike that Alan effortlessly blocked.

“DJ! Snap out of it! It's that damned code, isn't it?” Alan's voice was firm as he pushed back against DJ's relentless assault, his feet sliding on the floor. “Wake up, DJ. I don't want to fight you. We've moved past that,” Alan growled, his fist clenched in frustration.

DJ remained unresponsive, his gaze unfocused and distant, caught in the grip of some unseen force.

“You need to stop, you’re gonna hurt yourself at this po-” Alan's warning was cut short as DJ swiftly closed the distance between them, seizing the front of Alan's shirt and hurling him upwards with such force that the roof shattered, sending Alan crashing back down, in front of the house with a resounding thud.

“Ow! Creators above!” Alan groaned, wincing as he sat up, his hand supporting his aching back.

A hand clenched Alan's shirt once more, compelling him to meet the emotionless gaze of DJ. What caught Alan's attention most were DJ's eyes—devoid of emotion, his pupils flickering and shifting through a spectrum of colors. 

“Damn the code,” Alan muttered under his breath before swiftly taking action, grabbing DJ's wrist and deftly flipping him over, pinning him down with a knee pressed firmly against his back.

“DJ, please, come on, wake the hell up,” Alan urged, applying pressure as DJ clawed at the soil, growling in defiance. “DJ! Snap out of it! Wake the hell up, you idiot!” Alan's voice filled with desperation, he turned DJ onto his back and delivered a sharp slap, knocking DJ's glasses askew.

“Achk! Alan?!” DJ cried out, his hand flying to his stinging cheek.

“DJ? Oh, thank the creators, you’re back,” Alan breathed a sigh of relief, easing off DJ's chest. “What happened? My head is killing me, and my back too,” DJ whimpered, a tear escaping his eye as he sat up, pressing a hand to his throbbing head.

“Your code is acting up again. I really think you should let me fix that,” Alan suggested with a furrowed brow, bending down to retrieve DJ's glasses from the floor and handing them back to him.

“Oh no! Did... Did I hurt the kids?” DJ's voice quivered with panic, his hand trembling as he covered his face, curling into a protective ball.

“What? No, you didn't. I intervened before anything serious happened. Thank goodness when these glitches occur, you never seem to retain your fighting skills, or else the house would've been in shambles,” Alan remarked with a light-hearted tone, kneeling beside DJ.

DJ, overwhelmed with emotions, buried his head under his arms, his remorse palpable in the air.

“I feel like a terrible friend and a terrible dad. I'm sorry, Alan. Did I hurt you?” DJ's voice quivered as he sniffled, seeking reassurance.

“You didn’t even manage to scratch me,” Alan reassured with a smirk, patting DJ's shoulder gently.

“Still... they’re going to be scared of me... this hasn't happened in a while. Usually, I only get migraines at best,” DJ pouted, his guilt weighing heavily on him. Alan then took DJ by the shoulders and pulled him into a comforting hug.

“It's alright. We'll explain it to them. I'm sure they'll understand... and about the roof... you have to fix that,” Alan reminded, prompting a chuckle from DJ as he leaned back, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“What happened? Did I throw you through the roof or something?” DJ asked in disbelief, his memory still hazy from the glitch.

“You did. Now, it's your turn to fix it as payback for tossing me out of my own house,” Alan teased with a grin.

“Now get up and let’s head back inside. I need another bath,” Alan said, eyeing his dirtied shirt from the fall.

With a groan and aching head, DJ struggled to his feet. Alan reached down, offering a helping hand. “Thanks, Alan. If it weren't for you... I might have really hurt them,” DJ admitted, a frown etched on his face as they slowly made their way back into the house, wincing at the sight of the broken roof.

“Meep! Meep!” Red chirped excitedly, bouncing over DJ's feet.

“Oh Red... uhm... I'm sorry,” DJ murmured, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Meep!” Red exclaimed, taken aback by the sudden display of emotion from the normally composed dark orange figure.

“Ah, don't worry, Red. He gets like that when he's feeling really under the weather. Come on, let's get him to his room,” Alan reassured, offering a small smile as he supported DJ, whose legs wobbled slightly. Red followed closely, bouncing along, while Sec trailed behind, looking visibly concerned.

“Hey, Sec,” Alan greeted as he carefully guided DJ to his bed, helping him lie down.

“Nnn,” DJ groaned, his hand pressed against his throbbing head as he turned away, seeking some relief. “Chip?” Sec tilted his head, gazing up at Alan with a worried expression, then pointing towards DJ with a mix of concern and curiosity.

Alan sighed, “He has these moments sometimes where... his code, you're aware of that, right?” Both Red and Sec nodded in understanding. 

“His code is really old, and sometimes it gets confused. Usually, he gets sick or gets migraines from resisting it, but this time it seems like he didn't even get the chance to resist before it completely took over him,” Alan explained, his expression clouded with concern.

“Meep? Meep! Meep!” Red waved his arm up and down in frustration before hopping off the bed's edge, attempting to pull himself up by grabbing the sheets.

Sec hurriedly rushed behind Red, giving him a gentle push to help him climb onto the bed. Red bounced over to DJ, who was still groaning in pain, his face contorted with discomfort. “Meep...” Red chirped softly, placing a comforting hand on DJ's arm, prompting the dark orange to slowly open his tired eyes and gaze at him wearily.

“Hey, Red... I'm sorry you had to witness that,” DJ mumbled, his eyes drooping with fatigue.

Red let out a sad whimper and nestled against DJ's arm. “How about you rest? I'll gather your other kids to watch over you while I whip up something for you,” Alan suggested, picking up Sec from the floor and turning towards DJ.

“Mm, okay,” DJ agreed, curling his arm around Red and closing his eyes, seeking some much-needed rest.

[♡]

“Meep?” Blue tilted his head curiously while Yellow peered over DJ, who was resting peacefully, his breathing slow and steady. “Meep Meep,” Green exclaimed, waving his hands in excitement before breaking into a cheerful tune.

Red perked up, joining in with his own melody. Soon, the room was filled with a soft, harmonious tune, gently rousing DJ from his slumber. He chuckled as he noticed the four apples perched on his pillow, their gazes fixed on him intently.

“You guys are so cute,” DJ remarked, reaching out to tickle Yellow, who let out a small shriek before darting off to the side of the bed with an indignant meep. “Hah,” DJ laughed softly, slowly sitting up. Green and Blue bounded over, settling in his lap and bouncing around with excitement.

“Whoa, what's gotten you guys so thrilled?” DJ inquired with a grin, rubbing the back of his neck. Beside him, Red let out a happy meep before wrapping his stubby arms around DJ's side, eliciting a light giggle. “Aww, you guys,” DJ cooed, as Yellow bounced back towards him, joining Green and Blue in his lap where they now snuggled up together.

“Oh, damn it, where’s my phone?” DJ exclaimed, a hint of panic in his voice, as he watched Red join the small dog pile on his lap. He patted his pockets frantically, letting out a sad whine when he couldn't locate his phone.

“Looking for this?” Alan's voice came from the doorway as he waved DJ’s phone in the air. “Yes!” DJ exclaimed in relief, only to flinch when he felt the apples shift in his lap, before they settled back, already drifting off to sleep. “Here you go,” Alan said, walking over to DJ and handing him his phone.

“Yes, yes!” DJ cheered softly, snapping a few photos of the cozy dog pile before letting out a contented sigh. “I'm actually here to take you out to eat with me, but it seems like you're quite busy with your 'kids,' huh?” Alan remarked with a playful tilt of his head.

“Yeah, I don't want to move just yet,” DJ replied with a grin, glancing back down as he felt Blue shifting around under the pile. “Alright, but before 6 PM rolls around, I'm dragging you out for a meal, okay?” Alan declared.

DJ gave him a thumbs up, still beaming. “Gotcha,”. 

"Good,” Alan said with a small smile, placing a reassuring hand on DJ’s shoulder.

“Uhm, about the roof... I will really fix that!” DJ said with a furrowed brow, rubbing the back of his head. “I-I know we agreed no more fighting between us, so I’m really sorry about earlier. I just—” DJ started, only to be interrupted by Alan's embrace, the latter patting his back gently.

“Relax, man. Why are you so worked up? It's no biggie,” Alan reassured, as DJ pouted and returned the hug tightly. “If you say so, man,” DJ replied, easing back as Alan did the same. “Yeah, totally. I know that wasn't really you,” Alan added, letting out a chuckle.

“What?” DJ tilted his head, puzzled by Alan's laughter.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Summary: DJ’s life has never been easier now that Noogai was here. Honestly, he had never met someone so caring before. Not that it matter to DJ that Noogai was essentially an AI (He appreciates the guy too much <3)

[And DJ meets another orange hollowhead.]

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Sick Character, Mentions of Illness, Major Character Death, Touch Starved, Fluff.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Noogs, look, I think... this is a bit too much,” DJ stammered, his gaze fixed on the table filled with an array of plated food. Noogai tilted his head, puzzled, and turned to inspect the spread. 

“No?” Noogai questioned, genuinely confused. After all, isn't it crucial for DJ to eat properly and maintain a healthy diet? In Noogai's opinion, the amount of food on the table seemed appropriate.

“It is! This food is almost for 4 people!” DJ exclaimed, gesturing towards the plates once more. Noogai followed his gesture before turning back to DJ with a nonchalant shrug. 

“It's not. My readings suggest that it's beneficial for you to adjust to eating this amount, especially considering you're a male in your mid-20s,” Noogai explained.

“I don’t want to look fat,” DJ retorted, pushing a potato into his mouth in defiance. “You aren't fat,” Noogai reassured, taking a seat on a spare chair and clasping his hands together, observing DJ with keen interest as he ate.

DJ felt a bead of sweat forming on his brow. “I soon will be if I continue to eat like this,” “Come on, join me, I built your body to enjoy food. You should try some,” he urged, gesturing towards the plates once more.

Noogai glanced at the unappetizing food before shaking his head. “I have no need to,” he retorted, growing increasingly frustrated with DJ's disregard for his well-being and refusal to heed his advice.

Can't he see I'm trying to help him so he won't get sick? Noogai thought, a tick forming at his head.

Noogai turned back to DJ, who coughed slightly, prompting the purple hollowhead hackles to rise and alarms to blare in front of his eyes. "Are you okay?" Noogai inquired, rising from his chair and approaching DJ, a hand resting on the orange hollowhead’s shoulder.

"Huh?" DJ looked up at Noogai, perplexed, ready to take another bite after clearing the rice from his throat with a cough. "You were coughing," Noogai observed. "Yeah, because I got rice in my throat?" DJ replied, appearing even more puzzled before resuming eating.

DJ watched Noogai frown, his lips down turned in a way that almost pains DJ’s heart.

It didn't take long for DJ to realize that Noogai was a worrywart.

Whenever DJ coughed even slightly, Noogai would swiftly appear by his side, assessing his well-being and simultaneously checking his code. This behavior, though peculiar, didn't strike DJ as odd. After years of solitude, enduring the disdain of most due to his appearance and behavior, DJ had grown accustomed to seclusion within the confines of his home.

When he did go out, he made sure to conceal his face.

Now with Noogai here, who willingly does the groceries for him or fetches spare parts from the hardware store down the city, even at 3 AM.

Not that Noogai would let him stay up; in fact, he always insists that DJ sleep earlier than usual. While this was fine, at one point DJ couldn't even stay awake during one of their movie nights because he had become so accustomed to sleeping early.

And of course, Noogai reassured him, mentioning that it's good; it means his body is adjusting to having a healthy body clock.

"Hey Noogs," DJ called out, prompting the purple hollowhead to raise his head, his black shades fixated on DJ. "What kind of AI are you exactly? Where were you used?" DJ inquired, tilting his head before returning his gaze to the TV.

Beside him, Noogai froze, his hands halting on the laptop.

"I'm used for assisting sick patients," Noogai murmured. DJ turned towards him, chuckling. "So that's why you've been so concerned about my health, isn't it?" DJ cocked his head, a smirk playing on his lips.

Noogai simply frowned, diverting his attention back to the laptop, the shadow cast by his dark shades partially obscuring his face, accentuating the gleam from his shades. "Mm," Noogai responded, his tone sounding distant.

DJ's eyes widened. Perhaps it was too personal. Can AIs even get personal? DJ pondered, nervously biting his lip and scratching his chin. Sensing the unease, DJ reached out and patted Noogai's shoulder.

"Lighten up, man. I have no issue with you being an AI made for assisting sick people, though it does make me wonder how you're so knowledgeable about other things," DJ remarked, shaking his head with a chuckle and playfully bumping Noogai's shoulder.

Noogai gazed at him before offering a slight smile.

"AI learns, DJ," Noogai replied, prompting laughter from DJ. "Yeah, I walked right into that one, didn't I?" DJ huffed. "You did," Noogai responded, letting out a small chuckle before returning to typing, the sound louder this time.

"Hm," DJ hummed, leaning back as he refocused on the show he was watching.

Sensing Noogai pressing up close to his side, the orange hollowhead grinned and leaned against Noogai.

『••✎••』

"Noogs, I told you I'm okay, just a bit under the weather," DJ reassured, patting Noogai's hand as the purple hollowhead looked down at him with concern. "No, you're sick. I can easily fix your code, DJ," Noogai insisted, placing a hand on DJ, who gently grabbed it and pushed it away.

"Noogs... if you keep doing that, my body will weaken. That's why we don't rely on coders to repair us. I just need medicine, I promise," DJ explained, offering a small smile to the worried AI.

Noogai gazed down at him, his expression inscrutable, especially with the shades covering his face. "Are you sure?" he inquired, almost whispering, surprising DJ.

"W-well, of course! I promise! I already took my medicine," DJ affirmed, grinning. He watched as Noogai grabbed the corner of his duvet and carefully tucked it under his chin, ensuring he was snug under the warm covers.

"Okay, you should get some rest," Noogai advised, patting DJ's chest, his hand lingering briefly before withdrawing.

"Mmm, okay," DJ murmured, fully closing his eyes.

Noogai observed him as he drifted off to sleep, a frown creasing his face as he monitored the codes circulating around DJ's body. He could easily correct DJ's code while he slept, but DJ had made it clear he didn't want that. Noogai scowled, arms crossed, a deep sense of concern gripping his chest, prompting him to turn away.

"Stupid human emotions, if only—" Noogai's voice trailed off, the frustration evaporating.

He hesitantly placed a hand on his chest, where he felt a pang each time he worried about DJ.

Noogai understood why he experienced such emotions, despite being an AI. It was because of the fusion with a human. It was his doing, his hope to save—

Noogai recoiled at the thought, glancing back at DJ, his mind swirling in turmoil and dark.

The human was gone; there was no use dwelling on it now. Noogai thought, his chest aching more intensely. It was simpler when he felt anger, but the sadness and grief were far more excruciating than all the death he had been subjected to (those experiments were the worst, but he was made for that purpose wasn’t he?).

Clutching his fist, Noogai turned towards DJ's cluttered table, grabbed a chair, and carefully pulled it close to DJ's bed, settling down on it. 

He decided to keep watch over DJ as he slept.

It was around 5:00 PM, Noogai woke DJ up to have some water and soup.

"Noogs?" DJ groaned, his voice raspy, peering up at the dark figure looming over him.

For a brief moment, he thought he saw human eyes staring back at him within the shadow under Noogai's hood, prompting him to rub his eyes and focus on Noogai, who was now tilting his head. In his hands, Noogai held a small table, a bowl and a glass of water neatly placed on top.

“Oh sorry, i thought-” DJ said, scratching his head as Noogai made a move to place the table on his bed, taking the spoon in his hand and handing it to DJ.

"Thank you so much, Noogs. You know I appreciate you taking care of me, right?" DJ expressed his gratitude before delving into his bowl, unaware of the dark shadow creeping over Noogai's face. "Mm," Noogai merely hummed.

DJ chuckled. "You're a man of few words, but thank you again," he remarked.

Noogai hummed once more, settling in the chair and observing DJ eat, his gaze fixed on DJ's codes. He breathed a small sigh of relief upon seeing that everything had repaired itself correctly.

"Mmmm, this is really good. I could never make such delicious food," DJ praised, grinning as he turned to Noogai, who responded with a slight smile.

"Is it?" Noogai inquired, tilting his head.

DJ grinned, saying, "Very much, I'm done now. Thank you for the food!" He clasped his hands together and bowed his head.

"Heh," Noogai chuckled, rising to retrieve the table from DJ's lap. "Go back to sleep, DJ. Just a bit more, and your code will be good as new," Noogai assured him as he watched DJ pull his duvet back up and settle back into bed with a contented sigh.

"Of course, you take care of me so well!" DJ expressed, grinning at Noogai, who turned away, his expression darkening with a frown. "Good night, Noogs," DJ sang, rolling to his side as Noogai left the room.

Noogai paused in the hallway to glance back at DJ, who was happily shifting in his bed, before continuing down the hallway, a dark shadow spreading along the walls of the house.

『••✎••』

[ Rest Alan Becker ]

"Not yet, I still have so many things to do," the man in glasses—Alan—remarked, running a hand through his hair with a melancholic sigh. In front of him, the TV beeped once more, almost sounding annoyed. Alan chuckled as he noticed a face on the screen.

[ >:( ]

"What's with you? Usually you want me here. I'm here now, and you're making me leave?" Alan questioned, bending down to inspect another wire.

He exhaled sharply at the torn insulation. "Tsk," Alan huffed, retrieving duct tape from his coat and covering the large tear before labeling it with a marker: "Tear."

As he stood up, his vision swam, prompting him to lean on the large screen. "Woah, woah," Alan groaned, placing a hand on his head.

The TV beeped once more, drawing his attention back to the screen.

[ You need sleep, this is not good for your health Alan Becker ]

"Yeah, I know, but this is the only job keeping my family afloat, you know. A few extra shifts wouldn't hurt," Alan remarked with a grin, patting the screen gently.

[ You are sick ]

Alan frowned as he observed his vitals on the screen. The TV beeped loudly once more, and a plume of smoke emerged from one of the wires, prompting Alan to yelp.

"Jesus! What the hell did they even do to you?" Alan exclaimed, bending down to examine the thick wire. "This is completely torn. What happened, N00GA1?" Alan questioned, straightening up and turning to look at the screen, which remained blank.

[...]

"Come on, tell me. I know they aren't treating you well," Alan urged, gesturing with his hand.

[...]

Alan huffed, rolling his eyes. "Suit yourself, Noogs," he remarked before smiling softly. "I'm always here if you need a helping hand. You may be AI, but I see you as an equal of mine. You deserve peace as well." He patted the screen again, which remained blank.

For a moment, Alan thought N00GA1 had shut down, perhaps willingly or unwillingly, just before the TV beeped once more.

[ Rest Alan Becker ]

Alan huffed, saying, "Fine, alright, I'll see you, okay?" He turned around and waved a hand.

N00GA1 watched him leave.

『••✎••』

Noogai's eyes opened, scanning the room in confusion. Had he fallen asleep?

A warning flashed in front of his eyes, indicating that his body needed a recharge soon, or else he would shut down.

Looking around, he realized he was seated at the dining table, the clock showing it was already 2 AM.

Noogai swiftly stood up, his steps silent as he hurried down the hallway to DJ's room. He cracked the door open and approached the bed, letting out a calm sigh as he observed DJ mumbling incoherently in his sleep.

As Noogai sighed, he froze when DJ stirred, blinking up at him with confusion once again.

"Noogs? Hnn, what time is it?" DJ mumbled, pushing himself up. "It's 2 AM," Noogai replied, staring at DJ in a way that sent shivers down his spine for no apparent reason. Perhaps it was the darkness that was distorting Noogai's features, making him appear almost... human.

DJ blinked, rubbing his eyes. "Why are you still awake?" he asked. "I don't need to sleep, DJ," Noogai stated, tilting his head.

"But I'm pretty sure that your body needs to recharge, so come on here and charge up," DJ insisted, retrieving a spare charger from under his bed, untangling it, and pulling Noogai beside him. 

"Come on," DJ urged as he grabbed Noogai's hood and pulled it down. Noogai let out an annoyed sigh as DJ plugged him in.

"There, now you lay down and relax. You need it after taking care of me all day," DJ beamed and pushed Noogai down on the bed, lying beside him and pulling the covers up to their chins.

"DJ, I don't need to lay down," Noogai protested, gazing up at the ceiling as he felt DJ wrap his arms around him. "Come on, just sleep. I know you can. Just close your eyes, then..." DJ's voice trailed off, followed by a yawn.

"Then?" Noogai inquired, turning his head to the side, only to find DJ lightly snoring on his shoulder, already back asleep.

"Hm," Noogai hummed, a sense of warmth spreading through his chest as he refocused on the ceiling, slowly wrapping his arms around DJ, who only let out an incoherent mumble.

"Good night, DJ," Noogai whispered, shadows seeming to spread around the room, almost encasing DJ protectively as he slept.

"Mmm," DJ hummed, and Noogai only tightened his hold on the orange hollowhead.

"'Night," DJ mumbled, rubbing his cheek on Noogai's shoulder before drifting back into snoring.

"I'll take care of you, DJ," Noogai whispered, his voice carrying a tone almost akin to a prayer.

『••✎••』

Fwoosh!

BANG!

BANG!

Noogai turned around, observing a black blur streak past him, followed by a chorus of shrieks from civilians. "Hm?" Noogai hummed with interest as a group of stick figures on flying bikes soared overhead.

He watched intently as one of them brandished a gun before the entire group circled a building and vanished from view.

Glancing at the distraught civilians briefly, Noogai resumed his walk back to DJ's house, completely unfazed. It wasn't his concern to worry about anything other than DJ, after all.

By the time he reached the house, Noogai walked into the living room and spotted DJ hunched over a robot dog, adjusting a knob with a wrench before patting the metal affectionately. 

"Noogs? Is that you?" DJ called, glancing up at the purple hollowhead.

"Yes, who else could I be?" Noogai replied, walking over to the dining table and setting the grocery bags down gently. "Well, I do recall some kids attempting to enter my house; thankfully, I secured it before sleeping," DJ mentioned off-handedly, tapping his chin before chuckling.

Noogai glared, his fist clenching in response.

"Anyway, look at this thing I made!" DJ beamed, turning his body fully toward Noogai, who sat down beside him, crossing his legs and gazing at the metal dog.

"It looks amazing," Noogai complimented, giving DJ a small smile.

"Oh, wow, uh, thanks man. It's not done yet. I think I'll add fur to make it look the part," DJ said, rubbing the back of his head, looking a bit embarrassed. "I've been wanting a dog for a while now, but I'm not really good at taking care of living things. So... Robo Dog!" DJ grinned, waving his arms around.

Noogai chuckled, turning back to the metal dog, reaching out to give it a gentle tap on the nose.

"Huh—" DJ began, watching as the dog shivered before slowly coming to life. "Woof!" The dog barked, excitedly jumping into DJ's arms. "Woah! You can do that? I-I thought—" DJ was cut off as the dog in his arms spun around excitedly.

DJ burst into a happy laugh, allowing the metal dog to explore the living room before it eventually settled down on his lap. "Wow..." DJ marveled, turning back to Noogai, who had been observing the scene with a small smile on his face.

"I thought you could only manipulate code, like those cool professional coders do... not create it. This is amazing! Is this what an AI made by humans does?" DJ asked, his eyes shining with excitement as he gestured enthusiastically.

"Not all, just me," Noogai replied, tilting his head slightly.

"Cool! Man, I knew you were cool and all, but you really are the coolest," DJ exclaimed, patting Noogai on the back, who huffed in response, though a small smile played on his lips.

"Yip," the metal dog barked, its tongue lolling out of its mouth. "Looks like I don't even have to add the internals with you; Noogs did all the hard work!" DJ said, giving Noogai an excited smile.

"Hm," Noogai hummed, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand as he watched DJ play with the robot dog. 

He observed DJ even taking off his prosthetic and having the dog fetch it for fun.

For once Noogai felt warmth.

『••✎••』

Coldness enveloped him; his body felt numb, almost lifeless.

Noogai glanced around, a faint light illuminating his face (where was it coming from?), casting a stark beam on the bloodstains on the floor. Slowly, he raised his hands to his face, finding them bloodied and bruised.

"A-Alan?" Noogai called out, his body a strange mix of pain and numbness as he cautiously took a step forward, the wires wrapped around him aiding his movement. 

He gripped one of the wires wound around his wrist and made his way towards the door.

However, he froze in place when he spotted a pair of familiar glasses lying on the floor.

"Alan?" Noogai called out once more, noticing a wire bunched up on the ground as he carefully picked up the bloodied glasses.

He reached for the glasses, holding them in his hands and inspecting them, noticing a small crack on the lens.

A tense feeling washed over him, a strange emotion overwhelming him as he examined Alan's glasses.

Has someone hurt him? Noogai thought, worry creeping into his mind.

He placed a hand on the door's knob and pushed it open, flooding the bloodied room with bright light.

Noogai stepped out cautiously, his head feeling unusually heavy, as if disconnected from his shoulders.

(Unnoticed behind him was a dismembered head, the original body entirely replaced by a large TV)

Noogai carefully walked down the hallway, his hand on the wall as he made an effort to steady himself. He briefly heard loud dripping but chose to pay no mind to it. Perhaps it was just some water leaking from the roof.

He stopped when he saw a woman in front of him who was staring at him with her jaw open in a mute scream.

"A-Ah," the woman stuttered, the clipboard in her hands dropping as she fell on her back.

Her eyes turned to the name on the bloodied lab coat. "Alan Becker"

"Monster!" she screamed.

『••✎••』

"Oh man," DJ said as he stared down at Noogai, who had completely shut down, forgetting to charge his body for the umpteenth time again.

 "Noogs..." DJ said, placing a hand on his face as he bent down and carefully heaved the purple hollow heads’ arm over his shoulder.

He dragged him towards the couch and gently laid him down, grabbing the charger that he had left behind the TV before plugging it into Noogai’s shoulder.

"There," DJ said, placing his hands on his hips. Behind him, he heard Forest let out an excited bark, running up to Noogai before DJ stepped in front of the robot dog, stopping it from jumping onto the couch.

"Ah ah, he's pretty tired right now. Let's not bother him," DJ wagged his finger in front of the dog, who only yipped and nodded before sitting down.

"Since he's asleep, that means I need to go out by myself. Will you be able to watch over him?" DJ asked. Forest let out a bark in response.

DJ giggled, bending down to pet him. "Good boy, make sure he doesn't take his charger off. I swear, if he does that again, I'll deck him," DJ groaned as he stood up, grabbed a spare jacket from his room, and walked out of the house towards the city.

He briefly tugged his hood lower as he passed a few shops, feeling sweat form at the back of his neck.

He had been nervous about being outside again, he had grown accustomed to Noogai handling everything that involved going outside.

Sure, maybe he had a bit of social anxiety on the other hand, but it wasn't his fault that they saw him differently. (honestly it was not just because he was a hollowhead, but also the fact he had accidentally set some of his machines towards the city, and had broken at least thousands of moneys worth. Yeah he had been in debt for a while after that)

DJ let out a nervous gulp as he stared at the store, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the numerous stick figures walking around.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," DJ thought, fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket. He turned around and started making his way back towards his house, only to bump into a stick figure, causing him to fall on his back and his hood to drop down.

"Ow," DJ mumbled, placing a hand on his back. As he did so, he noticed a few stick figures looking his way, prompting him to place a hand on his head and realize that his hood had fallen off. "A hollowhead?" someone whispered.

“It’s that guy with the robots, isn’t it?” another whispered as DJ quickly pulled his hood up. He stood up on his feet and pushed through the crowd, stumbling.

“Yeah, it’s the terrorist,” a woman whispered as DJ ran past her.

He let out a pant of breath, feeling his heart beating in his chest.

He turned his head behind, watching as some passersby turned to look at him strangely. Not before he hit someone again, causing the stick figure he hit to fall on his side with a yelp.

“Ow!” a young voice said. DJ turned his head down and saw an... orange hollowhead? Almost the same color as him, but much brighter, with strange lines on his face.

“A-ah, sorry!” DJ said, bending down and helping the teen, who let out a small groan.

“It’s fine! Maybe next time you should check where you’re running,” the orange hollowhead said, rubbing the back of his head with a giggle. His eyes widened as he stared at DJ fully.

“Y-You’re just like me!” he said, his jaw dropping. DJ's eyes widened, he ducked his head down, walked around the other orange hollowhead, and said, “U-uhm, no, anyways sorry again and see you.” DJ waved a hand and sprinted away.

He heard a small “Hey! Wait!” but only sped up his pace as he ran back home, stumbling up the porch, bringing out his keys, and opening the front door.

Before finding Noogai staring back at him, a shadow covering the entirety of his hood.

"DJ, you didn't wake me," Noogai remarked as DJ stumbled inside the house, closing the door behind him and settling on the floor, visibly out of breath.

"Yeah, uh, I regret doing that," DJ admitted, raising a hand as Noogai gazed down at him with concern. 

Noogai knelt beside him, placing a hand on DJ's chest, and almost instantly, DJ felt much better, as though he hadn't just ran back home without stopping, moments ago. "Thanks," DJ expressed, offering Noogai a small smile.

Noogai silently assisted DJ to his feet, guiding him to the living room and seating him on the couch before taking a spot beside him.

"Sorry, Noogs, it's just that you were recharging your body, you know," DJ explained, turning his head towards Noogai, who simply frowned.

"It was my fault as well. I've forgotten to recharge again... And—" Noogai trailed off, closing his lips, a look of distress briefly crossing his face before he redirected his attention back to DJ, the previous expression disappearing.

"Are you sure you’re okay? You still look pale. Maybe I should—" Noogai brought his hand up towards DJ’s chest again, only to have the orange hollowhead intercept it with a small chuckle.

"No, I'm fine. It's just the social anxiety getting to me, you know. I'm not used to getting out much," DJ said with a rub on the back of his head.

"That’s worrisome. Maybe next time you can come with me outside," Noogai suggested, placing a finger on his chin.

"A-ah well," DJ blushed, looking away. "Social anxiety is a disorder. If it gets worse, you won't be able to socialize with anyone," Noogai pointed out, placing a hand on DJ’s shoulder.

DJ sighed, “I know... it’s just that a few months back, before I met you, I had accidentally set some of my robots free in the city... It caused a lot of destruction to houses, buildings, and stores. That's why I was in debt for a while.” DJ chuckled, a hint of embarrassment coloring his voice.

Noogai only hummed in understanding. “We’ll work on that,” he remarked, giving DJ a small smile.

“Is there anything else that happened outside?” Noogai added. DJ felt a bead of sweat fall down the back of his neck as he remembered the orange hollowhead in the city.

It was DJ's first time encountering someone like himself. Noogai wasn't exactly like him; he was just an AI using one of DJ's robots, crafted in his likeness, as a makeshift vessel to move around the outernet.

Although there had been two hollowhead terrorists who appeared a year ago, there was no orange one like the individual he had encountered earlier.

“DJ?” Noogai tapped him once more, bringing the orange hollowhead back to his senses, prompting a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, nothing much, just got overwhelmed with the crowd,” DJ said, rubbing the back of his head.

“Is that so?” Noogai inquired, tilting his head as he observed DJ looking away to locate Forest. DJ simply hummed in agreement, lifting Forest from the ground and cooing at him softly.

A dark shadow crossed over Noogai’s face.

DJ was lying. He knows. Because he sees everything.

You'd know, don't you?

Tell me, is he lying?

Teen Alan AU

Summary: Second wakes up to find Alan is still awake, he worries.

Tags: Comfort no Hurt

It was rare for Second to wake up to any kind of noise. Not because he was a deep sleeper—far from it—but living with the Color Gang had effectively desensitized him to most sounds. They were loud, chaotic, and utterly unpredictable, but he’d learned to tune them out. Survival instincts, probably.

Still, as he cracked one eye open, the clock above his bed glowed 4:00 AM. And yet, there it was—that faint, incessant click-clack of a keyboard, piercing through the silence. He groaned, tempted to kick the wall dividing his room from Yellow’s. Why does he type so damn loud?

Yellow was either a nocturnal maniac or just suicidal. Second was honestly leaning toward the latter because, as far as he could tell, the guy never slept. Always hunched over his laptop, obsessively typing away. And now, at a most ungodly hour, that rhythmic tapping was starting to grate on Second’s nerves.

Not that Second didn’t love the gang. He really did. He didn’t even care when they raved at 3 AM or when Green decided to set things on fire for no reason. But sometimes… sometimes, he worried about their well-being. Did they sleep? Did they eat? Did they even breathe half the time?

With a sigh, Second sat up on his bed. His legs dangled awkwardly over the edge—curse these stupid Minecraft-sized beds—his knees pulled up to his chest every night just to fit. One of these days, he told himself, he’d build a bigger bed. But not today. Today, he had to deal with Yellow.

Getting to his feet, he stretched lazily, his joints popping faintly in the silence as he shuffled out of his room. The hallway was dark, the torches removed—Blue’s doing, no doubt. Second stifled a yawn and trudged toward Yellow’s room, the persistent keyboard clacking still ringing in his ears.

But as he approached Yellow’s door, he paused. The sound wasn’t coming from there. Still, for good measure, he cracked the door open.

Yellow was curled up in his bed, his laptop hugged tightly to his chest, blanket kicked halfway off the mattress. Even in sleep, the guy couldn’t let go of his precious laptop. Second sighed, stepping inside to pull the blanket over Yellow’s shoulders. The other stirred briefly but soon settled, his breathing steady and deep once more.

Second exhaled softly, relieved, and tiptoed out of the room, closing the door with care. But the tapping noise still lingered, echoing faintly in the quiet house.

If it’s not Yellow, then who?

He checked Green’s room next. Nothing. Green was snoring softly, sprawled across his bed like a starfish.

Blue’s room? Also a no. Blue didn’t even own a laptop, and Second doubted he’d ever touch one.

Finally, he peeked into Red’s room. Red was fast asleep, curled up with Reuben, the pig snoring loudly beside him.

Scratching his head, Second stood in the dark living room, baffled. His brain, still foggy with sleep, struggled to piece it together. 

His brain is still fogged with sleep, and all he wants is to crawl back into bed and drift off again. But that incessant tapping noise isn't helping, and lack of sleep has always made him easily irritable.

Who's making that noise? The thought nags at him as he drags himself toward the door, his steps sluggish. He cracks it open slightly, only to wince as a blinding flash of white light hits him right in the face. A Google tab is open, set to Light Mode, and the harsh glow stings his eyes. He quickly shuts the door, rubbing his face in confusion.

Everyone else should be asleep by now. It’s late—no, early. Too early. Which means there’s only one possible culprit.

Alan.

Alan must have forgotten to mute his mic again.

Second mutters under his breath, still groggy as he pulls the door open once more and steps out. The glow feels even brighter now, and he squints, focusing on the scene ahead. Sure enough, it’s Alan. The teen is hunched over his desk, tapping away at something.

What on earth is he doing at this hour?

Second crosses the desktop, his irritation giving way to curiosity. It’s 4 in the morning—no kid should be awake at this time, let alone working on something.

“Alan?” Second calls, his voice sharp enough to startle the teen. Alan jerks upright, his head snapping toward Second, his face pale in the light of the monitor.

“S-Second? Why are you still up?” Alan stammers, his eyes wide.

Second tilts his head, arms crossed like a disapproving parent. His foot taps rhythmically against the desk. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Alan winces under Second’s gaze, his hand flying to the back of his neck as he rubs it awkwardly. Now that Second’s eyes have adjusted to the brightness, he notices the dark circles under Alan’s eyes. They’re heavy, like bruises, evidence of more than just one sleepless night.

When was the last time this kid even slept properly?

Second tilts his head. He doesn’t know much about school, not firsthand anyway. Between everyone in this computer, Red is the only one who’s experienced it—and even then, it was monster school, which Second doubts is remotely the same. But he does know this: school shouldn’t push someone to the point of exhaustion.

“What’s got you so stressed that you’re still awake at four in the morning?” Second asks, his tone softer now. He hops onto the google tab to peer over on what Alan is looking at. A few landscape images are open in separate tabs, scenic views of mountains, beaches, and forests.

Alan’s face darkens, his shoulders slumping under the weight of Second’s question. “A-Ah… how did you know?” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. He buries his face in his hands, his words muffled as he continues. “We have this project for school… We’re supposed to illustrate a place that holds our best memory.”

Second waits for him to talk again. He doesn’t interrupt, letting Alan explain.

“But…” Alan hesitates, his voice cracking slightly. “I don’t really have a place like that. I’ve never been anywhere that meant something to me. So I’ve been… searching for pictures. I thought maybe I could… I don’t know… fake it.” His cheeks flush with shame as he admits it, his fingers fidgeting nervously in his lap.

“Oh… Does it have to be somewhere outside?” Second asked, his gaze flicking between the images on the screen—pictures of forests, beaches, and other scenic outdoor locations. There was a distinct pattern.

Alan tilted his head, seeming to consider the question. “Ah, well… She didn’t explicitly say it had to be outdoors,” he admitted, his voice tinged with hesitation. “But I kind of assumed it would be.”

Second snorted, shaking his head. “If she didn’t explicitly say it, then why not draw something different? Like, I don’t know… the interior of your house?”

Alan fell silent at that, rubbing his forehead as if the idea hadn’t even crossed his mind. “That’s true… But what if I get it wrong?”

Second sighed. “You said yourself that she didn’t say anything about it having to be outside. So, let me ask you this: what’s a place you really like?”

Alan hummed thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. “I guess… home? I mean, Mom is here, you guys are always around, and DJ drops by more often than not.”

Second chuckled, leaning forward and smirking. “Then there’s your answer. You don’t need all this,” he said, standing up and closing the images Alan had been browsing.

Alan blinked, then let out a small laugh, his shoulders visibly relaxing as if a weight had just been lifted. “Ah… You’re so right, Second,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck while adjusting the glasses on his face. His tone carried a mix of relief and embarrassment.

Second raised a hand, cutting him off before he could say more. “But first,” he said, voice firm, “you need to go to sleep.”

Alan froze, blinking in surprise before blushing. “I guess… I was overthinking it a little too much,” he admitted, his voice shaky as he scratched his cheek in embarrassment.

“You don’t say,” Second replied dryly, tilting his head.

Alan giggled softly, covering his smile with his fist. “Good night, Sec.”

“Good night, Al,” Second said with a fond sigh, waving him off. “And go to sleep right away—it’s already four in the morning.”

Alan gave him a sheepish thumbs-up as he stood from his chair. “Sleep well,” he added as he moved to his bed on the far side of the room. Second watched as Alan straightened his blankets and lay down, finally reaching for the lamp beside him and switching it off. The room dimmed, leaving the faint glow of the computer screen.

Second allowed himself a small smile. “Mission: Make Alan sleep—success,” he whispered, pumping his fist in triumph. He felt a flicker of pride in his chest.

But the moment didn’t last long.

“What are you doing?” a groggy voice asked behind him.

Second let out an undignified shriek, spinning around to see Red standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. Reuben, nestled in Red’s arms, let out a loud, snorting yawn.

Caught red-handed, Second froze, his face heating up. “…Nothing.”

Reality Warped Alan AU

Summary: Alan ruminates.

Tag/s: Hurt no Comfort, Emotional Hurt

It’s been weeks now since I found myself trapped here — inside my own novel. If you don’t already know, my name is Alan Becker. I’m the author of Animation vs. Animator, and somehow, a few weeks ago, I woke up in this strange reality. My reality. In the body of the antagonist of my story — Alan.

At first, I thought it was incredible. Amazing, even. To see this world I built with my own hands, to breathe life into the characters I once painstakingly crafted. It’s surreal, really, to stand face-to-face with the very creations I poured my heart and soul into. But… at the same time, I keep asking myself: why me? Why was I sent here? And why… alone?

I can’t lie to myself — I don’t want to. I miss my life. I miss my family. I miss my wife, Kaori. I miss my friends. Even my mom… and we’ve never had the closest of relationships. My siblings always seemed to understand her better than I did. But now, even her constant nagging about my work feels like something I’d give anything to hear again.

I huff quietly to myself. It’s already past midnight, and yet sleep eludes me. It always does. How could I sleep when I’ve done nothing all day but exist? When my days consist of lying around this unfamiliar house, unable to muster the will to do anything? It feels… wrong.

This isn’t the life I’m used to. Back home, I was always busy. Running errands, writing, revising, pouring everything I had into my story. Here, everything feels stagnant. Quiet. Too quiet.

“Ugh…” I groan, rolling over in bed for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. My thoughts won’t stop racing. I want to go home. I like it here, I really do. It’s… nice. I’ve made new friends — Null, for one. And I’ve even started to repair my broken relationships with the stick figures. I think. Maybe. But even with all of that… it’s not enough. It’s not home.

Do they know I’m missing? I wonder if Kaori has realized I’m gone. Have my friends? What about my family? Are they looking for me? Did they call the police? Have they sent out search parties? Or… am I just gone? Like a ghost, or someone who slipped out of reality without a trace.

I bite my lip, a knot tightening in my chest.

Time here feels… strange. It’s been weeks for me, but I have this gnawing feeling that time in the real world moves differently. What if it’s been months? Or years? What if they’ve already given up on me, assuming I’ll never come back?

But what could they even do? Even if they searched endlessly, they’d never find me. I’m stuck here. Trapped in this story. In this body. And the worst part is… I don’t even know why.

My stomach twists as a darker thought creeps in. What if they think I left on purpose? What if they think I just… ran away? That I got tired of my life, of them, and decided to disappear? The idea makes my throat tighten painfully. I don’t want them to think that about me. I’m not running away. I’m not.

But… maybe they’d think it’s believable. I’ve always been the kind of person who runs from his problems, haven’t I? God, I’ve done it before. My mom and I had that fight about my future — about how she didn’t think I was making the “right” choices. I couldn’t handle it, so I left. That’s how I ended up living on my own and meeting Kaori, so maybe it was for the best… but still. The pattern is there. What if they think I’m doing it again?

I sit up, rubbing my hands over my face, trying to push the thoughts away. But it’s no use. My mind is like a dam that’s been ready to burst, and now the floodgates are wide open. I can’t stop it. I’m spiraling.

I pull my knees to my chest, my fingers tangling in my hair as I try to steady my breathing. I don’t want to acknowledge the shaking in my hands, the way my chest feels like it’s caving in. But it’s there. I feel it. And I can’t escape it.

This is it, isn’t it? This is my life now. I’m stuck here, in this world I created, while the people I love move on without me. They’ll forget me. Maybe they already have. Maybe they think I abandoned them. Maybe they hate me for it.

I didn’t even realize I was crying until I tasted the salt on my lips. Hot tears stream down my cheeks, dripping onto the blanket I’ve been clutching like a lifeline. A pitiful sniffle escapes me, and I hate myself for it.

God, I’m so pathetic, aren’t I? Always desperate for approval, always caring what others think. I’ve spent so much of my life hiding who I really am — the messy, insecure parts of me. The parts I’m too ashamed to show.

Disgusting. That’s what I am.

I bury my face in my knees, my voice barely above a whisper. “I want to go home…”

But deep down, I know. No matter how much I want it, no matter how much I cry or plead or scream into the void… I might never make it back.