#randomshortfic

[chickenkurage]

“Special thing about Snow’s flowers” (The Alan Association Short Fic)

Summary: Author notices the colors of the flowers. They look weirdly familiar.

*~*

Author: Reality Warped Alan

Oji: Farmer Alan

*~*

“Hey, Author?”

Author’s head snapped up as he turned toward the door, his eyes landing on Oji peeking in from the doorframe. “Hi,” he replied groggily, rubbing his head. Had he fallen asleep on his desk? He couldn’t quite remember. Why was his desk so weirdly comfortable anyway?

“Noogai and Snow aren’t here, and I need some help watering Snow’s flowers,” Oji said, stepping fully into the room.

Author stood, stretching as he let out a yawn. “Sure, I could use something to do once in a while,” he said with a grin. Oji snorted at that, clearly amused.

Author followed Oji out, realizing he hadn’t really seen Snow’s flowers much since he arrived. When they reached the garden, his jaw nearly dropped. Snow really did have a lot.

“Why are there so many?” Author asked, crouching by one of the flower beds. The blooms looked like tulips—or at least, that was his best guess. He wasn’t exactly an expert on flowers. He hadn’t read much about them.

Behind him, Oji was unrolling a hose. “Snow just loves flowers,” Oji said simply.

“Huh. He really does, huh?” Author replied, standing up as Oji handed him a filled watering can. He couldn’t help but glance around again, taking in the sheer variety of flowers, some in pots, others in flower beds, a few even overflowing onto the picnic table.

Oji focused on watering the larger pots, adjusting the hose to a light spray so he wouldn’t drown the delicate blooms. Meanwhile, Author worked on the smaller plants, carefully pouring just enough water into each pot.

Flowers weren’t really Author’s thing, but he was no stranger to watering them. His wife loved flowers, and that meant he often found himself stuck with the task of taking care of them. He wasn’t new to the process—though he couldn’t tell you the names of most flowers or what fertilizers they needed. He just did what he was told.

He paused near the picnic table, where a cluster of pots seemed to be fighting for space. The sight of so many flowers crammed together was oddly amusing. It almost looked like they were trying to take over the table. He chuckled softly to himself before moving closer to water them.

Behind him, Oji spoke up. “I’m done on this side,” he said, turning off the hose.

Author waved a hand without looking back. “Give me a moment with these ones. They’re pretty small, and I don’t want to drown them.”

“Take your time,” Oji replied, walking over to tidy up the pots on the table.

As Author continued watering, something caught his eye. Among the flowers was a black bloom, striking and unusual. Beside it was a lighter one, almost gray. He leaned in for a closer look, his curiosity piqued.

“What kind of flower is this?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at Oji, who was busy aligning the pots.

“Huh?” Oji turned and walked over to where Author was crouched. “What are you looking at?”

Author gestured to the black and gray flowers. Now that he was looking more closely, he noticed others nearby—orange, black, lighter black, red, and even a mix of rainbow colors. Somehow, they looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place why.

“I’ve never seen flowers like these before,” Author said, continuing to water them. He placed the watering can down on the table and crossed his arms. “But they look kind of familiar. I just can’t figure out why.”

Oji tilted his head, squinting at the flowers as if trying to jog his memory. “That is… weird. Somehow, they remind me of my kids—uh, Second and the others. I can kind of see Yellow, Blue, Green, and Red in them too,” he said thoughtfully.

Author straightened up, a surprised sound escaping his throat. “Oh, yeah! You’re right. I don’t know why I didn’t notice that,” he said with a laugh. “But I didn’t even know flowers like this existed.”

Oji shrugged. “Who knows?”

Author bit his lip, a strange sense of sentimentality washing over him as he stared at the unique flowers. Why did Snow have these, of all things? Was there some deeper meaning behind them?

“Is there something wrong with their versions?” Author asked carefully.

Oji hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. “Maybe… but it’s not really my place to say,” he said softly.

Author nodded, understanding the unspoken boundaries. “I get it,” he said.

“But,” Oji continued, “I think Snow would tell you if you asked. You just have to ask the right questions.” He gave a small, encouraging smile.

Author returned the nod, though he wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to muster the courage to ask Snow. He found it oddly difficult to talk to him—unlike with Oji, Vee, Kit, or even that weird guy Keeper, who always seemed to circle him with cryptic words.

Seriously, how was Keeper even another version of Kit? They were like night and day. Author swore he wanted to sock Keeper in the face sometimes.

“Thanks for helping me,” Oji said, breaking through his thoughts. “If you want, I can bake you some bread as thanks.”

Author’s eyes widened. “Yes, please!” he said enthusiastically.

[chickenkurage]

“Snow has a scary side” (The Alan Association Short Fic)

Summary: Vee and Kit play hide and seek, except they hide and poor Snow is the seeker. Both of them expected to win over Snow easily, only to realize making Snow the seeker is the worst idea ever.

Tag/s: Humor/Comedy

*~*

Kit: Cursor Alan

Vee: Teen Alan

Snow: Creator Stickman Alan

*~*

The closet was such a clever idea for Vee and Kit to hide in—for once, they were sure Snow wouldn’t find them! “This is actually kind of comfortable,” Vee giggled softly, his voice barely above a whisper. Meanwhile, Kit pressed a hand over his mouth to stifle his own laugh, his shoulders shaking as he struggled to keep quiet. For some reason, he felt extra giggly right now—probably the thrill of the game or maybe the absurdity of how easy it had been to fool Snow so far.

Snow, on the other hand, was having a dreadful time. It had been at least four rounds of hide-and-seek, and each time Snow would wander aimlessly through the house, calling out for them, only to give up and ask for a time-out. To be fair, the house was massive—too big, even for someone with Snow’s determination. But Snow’s utter inability to find them just made it all the more fun for Vee and Kit.

Now, you might be wondering: how did they end up here in the first place?

Well…

It had started as a simple plan. Vee and Kit had wanted to spend the afternoon relaxing outside, maybe playing a game or just enjoying the sunshine. Unfortunately, the weather had other plans. Out of nowhere, rain began pouring down in heavy sheets. It was rare—so rare, in fact, that the last time it rained, Oji had been planting seeds in the garden and came back inside with water dripping and his colors literally melting off.

“It’s raining. What do we do now?” Vee pouted, pressing his face against the windowpane. His breath fogged up the glass as he stared gloomily at the storm outside. Beside him, Kit sighed, scratching the back of his head. He’d been looking forward to playing outside too.

“This is so dumb. Out of all days, it rains now?” Vee whined, dragging his feet as he walked to the couch and flopped down dramatically. Kit followed, plopping into the single armchair nearby with a groan.

For a moment, they just sat there, stewing in their disappointment, until Vee suddenly perked up. “What about hide-and-seek?” he suggested, sitting upright with a gleam of excitement in his eyes. “The house is big enough for it!”

Kit blinked. “But… it’s just the two of us,” he mumbled, scratching his cheek. “Wouldn’t that be kind of boring?”

Before Vee could respond, they heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps coming from the kitchen. Turning their heads, they spotted Snow emerging, his hair mussed and sticking out at odd angles like he’d just rolled out of bed. He rubbed at his eyes groggily, looking half-asleep.

“Snow!” Vee shot up from the couch so quickly that Snow flinched, startled by the younger one’s sudden burst of energy. Whatever sleepiness remained was wiped away by Vee’s enthusiasm. “Play hide-and-seek with us!” Vee practically shrieked, his voice bright and insistent.

Snow hesitated, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “Uh…” he muttered, looking helplessly at Kit, as if hoping for backup. But Kit looked just as excited as Vee, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“I’m not good at hiding,” Snow finally admitted, his voice low and reluctant.

Vee and Kit exchanged a look, their expressions lighting up with mischief. Then, they turned back to Snow, their eyes glinting.

“Who said you’re going to be a hider?” Vee asked, a sly grin spreading across his face.

And that’s how they ended up here.

Snow really was terrible at hide-and-seek. He was always in the wrong rooms, searching in all the least likely places. Hiding was undeniably fun, but there wasn’t much action when the seeker was so bad at the game. Every now and then, Snow would call out, “Time out!” because he was taking too long to find them, and the sheer size of the house wasn’t helping.

“He’s really bad at this game,” Vee whispered, his voice barely audible. He was wedged tightly between two canvas stands inside the closet, his knees pulled up to his chest.

Kit, crouched behind the large shelves on the other side of the closet, stifled a giggle. “Hehe, he really is,” he murmured, his voice shaking with suppressed laughter.

Suddenly, a loud crack of thunder tore through the air, so powerful that it seemed to shake the entire house. The ground beneath them seemed to tremble as if the storm itself had reached inside. Both Vee and Kit froze, their laughter dying instantly in their throats. Outside the closet, there was a loud snap—something heavy, maybe a branch, had fallen nearby.

The two boys exchanged wide-eyed glances in the dim light.

“Did… the power go out?” Vee murmured, his voice trembling as he cautiously stepped away from the canvas stands. His eyes darted around nervously, searching for some explanation in the dimness. Kit, on edge as well, rose to his feet, his own unease palpable. There hadn’t been any thunder earlier, and the house was supposed to run on an endless supply of energy. The notion that a storm could knock out the power seemed… improbable.

“U-uhm,” Kit stammered, pushing the closet door open just a crack, his hand gripping the edge tightly. The living room beyond was cloaked in darkness, its usual warmth drained entirely. Through the windows, faint sparks of light flickered from the distant lightning, but it wasn’t enough to illuminate much. Shadows stretched unnervingly across the room. The air felt heavier now, oppressive.

Vee inched closer to Kit, his fingers clutching at Kit’s sleeve like a lifeline. “It’s… so dark…” Vee whispered, his voice barely audible. His pale face was faintly illuminated by the sporadic flashes of lightning outside, making his wide, fearful eyes all the more striking.

Suddenly, a deafening boom of thunder crashed through the silence, and both of them flinched violently.

“Should we… should we go find Snow? Do you think he’s still looking for us?” Vee asked, glancing nervously at Kit as they hesitantly stepped out of the closet. Their movements were slow, deliberate, as if the darkness itself might lunge at them. They headed toward the kitchen, the idea of finding Snow their only anchor of hope. Somehow, they couldn’t stop imagining that Snow was stuck somewhere—maybe on the third floor—just as scared as they were.

“What if he’s… afraid too?” Kit muttered, his voice shaky. He clenched his fists tightly, willing himself to stay composed. I can do this, he thought, though his racing heart betrayed him. I’m a cursor, damn it! I was a god once! But no matter how much he tried to recall his former strength, the oppressive darkness seemed to strip him of all confidence.

A sudden metallic clanking sound pierced the silence, echoing through the house like a warning. It was sharp, deliberate—like metal striking metal. Both Kit and Vee froze mid-step, their breath caught in their throats. The noise wasn’t coming from the kitchen. It was closer. Much closer.

They strained their eyes, trying to pierce the shadowy veil in front of them. A flicker of movement made their hearts leap into their throats. There, in the distance, a silhouette shifted—slowly, ominously. Then, as if the darkness itself had come alive, a pair of glowing red eyes blinked into existence, staring directly at them.

Vee’s grip on Kit’s sleeve tightened painfully. Neither of them could move, their legs locked in terror.

And then—

“Are you two—”

The voice was familiar, but neither Vee nor Kit gave it a chance to register. With a blood-curdling scream that could rival any banshee, the two bolted back to the closet, scrambling over each other in their panic. They slammed the door shut behind them with such force that the sound reverberated through the house.

Snow, now fully revealed in the flickering light, stood motionless in the hallway. His red eyes dimmed as his normal appearance flickered back into view under the glow of the overhead bulb. He looked down at himself, confused.

“What the…” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to piece together what just happened. The faint hum of the house’s systems restarting buzzed in the background, the lights flickering back to life.

He glanced toward the closet door, where muffled, panicked whispers and the occasional squeak of fear could still be heard.

“...Seriously?” Snow sighed, shaking his head.

[chickenkurage]

“Nickname…. Descent? No originality at all *sigh*” (The Alan Association x The DJ Association Short Fic)

Summary: ATG!DJ finally gets his nickname, Snow is a little confused at the lack of originality. What does this mean?

Tag: Humor/Comedy

*~*

Kit: Cursor Alan

Vee: Teen Alan

Feathers: Duck Alan

Noogai: Artificial Intelligence Alan

Snow: Creator Stickman Alan

Oji: Farmer Alan

Ascent: Ascension to Godhood Alan

Des: Ascension to Godhood DJ

Crown: King of Minecraft DJ

*~*

As Snow stepped into the living room, the first thing that caught his eye was an explosion of purple feathers scattered across the floor. Vee was sneezing violently in the corner, while Kit was gleefully rolling around in the mess, completely unbothered. Noogai and Oji were frantically (calmly on Noogai’s part, he always seemed so cool headed, this is no different) trying to stop Kit from spreading the feathers even further, though their efforts seemed futile.

Snow didn’t need to think too hard to figure out where the feathers had come from. Turning his head, he spotted Feathers lounging comfortably in Vee’s chair—the one Vee typically used when painting. The canvas was gone, probably moved to Vee’s room earlier, leaving the chair conspicuously vacant for Feathers to claim.

Feathers didn’t look the least bit guilty. In fact, he seemed amused, his little beady duck eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched Oji scold Kit, who was still happily tossing feathers into the air. Snow sighed to himself. He should probably tell them to switch off the ceiling fan before the situation got even worse.

Before he could say anything, Feathers glanced up at him and winked.

Snow stared at him for a moment, feeling a pang of disbelief. Was this really supposed to be another version of himself? He couldn’t fathom how that could be true. Snow prided himself on his meekness and reserved nature—he’d never act like this.

“Uhm,” Snow muttered under his breath. Deciding it wasn’t worth the effort, he quietly exited the house, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Not that anyone inside seemed to notice his departure. That wasn’t unusual, though. Snow had grown accustomed to being overlooked, and honestly, he didn’t mind. Conversations were never his strong suit anyway.

Outside, Snow paused on the porch. His gaze landed on a familiar figure—a DJ, wearing a white coat—standing in front of their house. He was watering the flowers on the porch with a hose, his movements slow and deliberate. Snow tilted his head. This wasn’t unusual for this particular DJ, but still, it was a curious sight.

As if sensing Snow’s eyes on him, the DJ turned toward him. Snow wasn’t sure how he always managed to do that. It was uncanny.

For a moment, Snow considered slipping away unnoticed, heading toward the picnic table where pots of flowers were neatly arranged. But before he could retreat, the DJ waved at him energetically.

“Good morning!” the DJ called out, his voice cheerful. Snow sighed internally. Now he had to talk to him.

Reluctantly, Snow approached. The flowers in the bed were thoroughly soaked, practically drowning in water. Snow couldn’t help but point it out. “You’re drowning them.”

The DJ blinked at the flowers before hurriedly turning off the water. He scratched his already messy hair, looking sheepish. “I thought… that’s how you’re supposed to do it?”

Snow decided against explaining how overwatering could kill the plants. He wasn’t in the mood for a lesson on gardening. Instead, he stayed quiet, letting the DJ fill the silence.

“Actually,” the DJ began, his tone slightly nervous, “I wanted to tell you something. I finally got myself a nickname!” He smiled awkwardly as he rolled the hose back onto its holder. Then, turning to Snow, he added, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

Snow perked up at that. Finally, he wouldn’t have to keep mentally referring to him as just “the DJ wearing a white coat.” It would make things far less confusing. Though it isn’t as confusing as it should be, as the other DJs already have their own nicknames. Snow just hadn’t met all of them yet.

“What is it?” Snow asked, curiosity piqued.

The DJ grinned nervously. “Descent.”

Snow blinked. “Descent?” he echoed, unsure if he’d heard correctly.

Descent—if that was really what he wanted to go by—nodded, looking slightly uneasy. “Is… is it bad?”

Snow hesitated, rubbing his cheek thoughtfully. “Uhm…” He didn’t want to crush the DJ’s enthusiasm, but the name felt a little… unoriginal. Still, he didn’t say that out loud. Instead, he offered, “How about Des?”

Descent’s face lit up at the suggestion, his nervousness melting away. “That sounds nice,” he said, clasping his hands together as though Snow had just saved him from inevitable ridicule.

“Yeah, it does,” Snow agreed. Then, after a pause, he added, “Did you base it on your counterpart? Ascent, yes?”

Des winced slightly, shrugging. “I guess? Do you think it’s bad?”

Snow resisted the urge to ask why his opinion mattered so much. Instead, he shook his head. “It’s not bad. Just… make sure it’s something that reflects who you are. A name you won’t regret later.” He sighed, thinking back to his own name. At least it wasn’t something as ridiculous as “Whitey.” What was he, a dog?

Des chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I like Des. It feels more like me. Thanks for helping me out.”

“No problem,” Snow replied. Then, glancing at the drenched flowers, he added, “Oh, and maybe think about using a watering can next time. That way, you won’t drown them.”

Des paled. “So I really did drown them?”

Snow’s gaze shifted to the pitiful sunflowers, their petals drooping under the weight of the excess water. He looked back at Des. “A little,” he lied, though the damage was clearly worse than he let on. They’d probably need to replace the plants entirely. He made a mental note to ask Crown about getting a new set of sunflowers.

Des crouched down, poking one of the wilted flowers delicately. “Are they still salvageable?”

Snow didn’t answer, choosing to stay silent. Sometimes, silence was the kindest response..

*~*

Fun fact: Des (ATG DJ) wasn't exactly "unoriginal" he just wants to be connected to Ascent (ATG Alan), therefore named himself Descent!

Another Fun Fact: Crown (KOM DJ) is the leader of the DJ Association like how Kit is to the Alan Association!

[chickenkurage]

“Get a new nickname!” (The DJ Association Short Fic)

Summary: Teen!DJ wants to be called Gamerboy as his nickname. Crown is not amused. Des tries to help and ultimately fails.

Tag: Humor/Comedy

*~*

Crown: King of Minecraft DJ

Des: Ascension to Godhood DJ

Harv: Farmer DJ

Deej: Teen DJ

*~*

“Absolutely not!” Crown nearly shrieked, his voice teetering on the edge of exasperation as his fingers twitched, tempted to rip the paper in his hands to shreds. Across from him, Deej, the teenager responsible for this madness, pouted dramatically, arms crossed like he was moments away from throwing a tantrum.

“Why can’t you just settle with ‘Deej’?” Des chimed in, clearly unsure how to diffuse the escalating tension.

Deej let out a theatrical sigh, the kind a disappointed parent might make when scolding a child. Des barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“‘Deej’ is so generic! It’s what my Alan calls me! You guys have cool ass nicknames, and I’m stuck with that?” Deej argued, his voice rising with indignation.

“Language,” Harv added lazily from his spot on the couch. He was lounging comfortably, boots still on, leaving a trail of dirt across the floor.

“I can curse however I want—I’m almost sixteen!” Deej whined, shooting Harv a defiant look. Harv, unimpressed, adjusted his glasses, which glinted ominously under the light, and turned his gaze back to the ceiling.

Crown pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience hanging by a thread. “Alright, let’s get back on track. I am not letting you make a mistake like this.” His voice was sharp as he grabbed Deej’s shoulder, giving him a light shake for emphasis.

Deej stared at him, wide-eyed, before turning to Des for backup. Des shrugged, unhelpfully. “It is kind of cringe,” he mumbled, avoiding Deej’s glare.

Deej’s jaw dropped in mock offense as he stepped back, his hands clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “Cringe? Only a loser would say that!” he gasped, his voice dripping with melodrama. He turned back to Crown, his expression pleading. “Crown, come oooooon, let me name myself ‘Gamerboy’!” He dragged out the last word as he grabbed Crown’s arm, shaking it with increasing desperation.

At the side, Des stiffened. “‘Loser’?” he repeated quietly, his expression darkening as if his soul had just been sucked out.

“I said what I said,” Deej retorted, oblivious to the damage he’d inflicted.

Crown groaned, shaking his head. “No! No way. I am not letting you fool me again!” His tone was firm, though there was a hint of weariness as if this wasn’t the first time he’d had to deal with one of Deej’s harebrained schemes.

“I wasn’t trying to fool you! Come on!” Deej whined, his voice rising in pitch.

Crown scoffed, crossing his arms as Des rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Technically, you were,” Des muttered. “I don’t even want to think about it. We almost blew up the kitchen!”

Crown winced at the memory, and even Deej’s enthusiasm faltered slightly. Des paled, clearly reliving the disaster. “Do you remember? You wanted to bake cookies, and somehow we set the entire kitchen on fire.”

Deej pouted. “Who knew none of us could bake?”

“I can! You’re the one who thought it was a good idea to use gasoline on the stove,” Des deadpanned.

Deej flushed, poking his cheek sheepishly. “I didn’t think it would be that bad… ehe,” he mumbled, flashing Des a grin that was far too cute for someone who’d nearly caused a house fire.

“No,” Crown said firmly, cutting through the conversation. “Still no. Your name stays as ‘Deej.’ End of story.”

Deej let out a dramatic groan, dropping to his knees and clinging to Crown’s leg like a shipwrecked sailor clinging to driftwood. “Not until you let me change my name!”

Crown tried to shake him off, his frustration mounting. “Let go! Hey! I said, let go!”

“Not until you say yes!” Deej whined, his grip tightening.

From his spot on the couch, Harv glanced up, watching the chaos unfold with mild amusement. “Rough day?” he asked casually, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Des leaned against the back of the couch, looking utterly drained. “Rough week,” he replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

Harv snorted, his shoulders shaking with laughter as he clapped Des on the back. “You should consider resigning as Crown’s assistant if you want to keep yourself young.”

Des shot him a deadpan look. “You’re too laid back,” he muttered.

“And you’re too uptight,” Harv countered, elbowing him in the ribs with a grin.

Meanwhile, Crown was still trying to pry Deej off his leg, muttering a string of curses under his breath as Deej clung on for dear life.

[chickenkurage]

“I want an assistant!!!” (The Alan Assocation Short Fic)

Summary: Kit hears that Crown has his own assistant, now he wants one as well. If only someone was interested in helping him…

Tag/s: Humor/Comedy

*~*

Kit: Cursor Alan

Vee: Teen Alan

Feathers: Duck Alan

Noogai: Artificial Intelligence Alan

Snow: Creator Stickman Alan

Oji: Farmer Alan

Ascent: Ascension to Godhood Alan

Crown: King of Minecraft DJ

*~*

Kit isn’t very sure about most things in his life—but one thing he is absolutely sure of? None of the Alans are even remotely interested in becoming his assistant. Not one. He tells himself he doesn’t take it to heart—really, he doesn’t!

But… oh, he’s so jealous of Crown. Crown, who apparently managed to snag an assistant on his very first day here. It’s unfair—so unfair—on Kit’s part! He’s been here for months! How had it never occurred to him to get an assistant? (Though, admittedly, Kit doesn’t think of much at all most of the time…)

The moment Kit heard about Crown’s assistant, he wasted no time. He hurriedly doodled a flyer—complete with uneven lines and some questionable spelling—and plastered it all over the house. Every wall, every corner, every possible surface. He was determined to make sure that everyone knew what he wanted. After all, it wasn’t like they saw each other every day, so he had to be proactive.

But that had been days ago. Some of the flyers had already been taken down. Apparently, sticking one inside the microwave was a health hazard—or so Oji had claimed. Kit privately thought that sticking a fork in the toaster was probably a bigger hazard, but he’d still caught Snow trying to do that more than once. Still, his flyers were disappearing, and no one had applied.

Until tonight. It seemed like an angel had descended in the dead of night to answer his prayers. That angel… was Ascent.

Kit was dozing on the couch in the living room when he heard the distinct sound of paper tearing behind him. He jolted awake, blinking groggily. Had he fallen asleep waiting for everyone to come back? The house was quiet, as usual. Everyone must have been busy again.

“What’s this?” a familiar voice asked, breaking the silence.

Kit turned, still rubbing his eyes, to see Ascent standing beside him. Even in the dim light, his mismatched eyes glowed faintly, eerily. They’d scared Vee once, but after getting to know Ascent, the three of them had started hanging out together regularly.

Kit perked up immediately, his grogginess forgotten. “It’s an application to be my assistant!” he exclaimed, springing to his feet and towering over the smaller man. His excitement was palpable.

Ascent looked at the flyer, then at Kit, and then gently reached out to pat Kit on the head. “I see. An assistant, huh? For what?”

Kit pouted, wringing his hands together like a guilty child. “I was just so confused about how Crown manages to do things so fast! And then he told me it’s because he has an assistant. An assistant! I should’ve thought of it sooner! Being the leader is so hard!” he whined, though he quickly broke into a happy giggle when Ascent petted him again.

Ascent continued to study the flyer, his expression unreadable. “I assume you already have applicants, then? Since you posted these everywhere.”

Kit’s pout deepened, his lips trembling in a way that made him look like a dejected kitten. Ascent, almost absentmindedly, scratched his head again. If Kit had a tail, it would’ve been wagging furiously.

“No one wants to be my assistant,” Kit admitted with a pitiful sniffle. “Oji’s too busy with his little pineapple children, and Noogai’s busy helping his DJ. He said DJ’s leg is bothering him, so he’s having trouble walking. Vee’s drowning in schoolwork, and Feather—well, Feather’s a duck. He can’t exactly help me with wings! And as for Snow… I’d be too nervous to ask him. He gets stressed out so easily!”

Before Ascent could respond, Kit lunged forward and wrapped him in a tight hug, burying his face in Ascent’s shoulder. Somehow, the hug wasn’t enough to break any bones, though Ascent still let out a strained groan.

“I… see,” Ascent said after a moment, his voice slightly strained as he patted Kit’s back in an attempt to get him to let go. Eventually, Kit released him, and Ascent dusted off his coat.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Ascent asked, handing the crumpled flyer back. He tilted his head slightly as Kit stared at him with wide, pleading eyes.

“You want to help me?” Kit gasped, his voice trembling with excitement. He looked so happy that he might burst into tears.

Ascent’s brow twitched faintly, but he nodded. “I suppose so. It seems like you’re having a hard time.”

Kit’s expression flickered, his lips pulling into another small pout. “Well… I’ve learned to deal with it, but it’s just so unfair that Crown already has an assistant. I should have one too…”

Ascent watched him quietly, his mismatched eyes steady. Kit stared back, his eyes impossibly big, filled with hope and desperation.

The silence stretched between them until Ascent finally let out a quiet sigh. “Fine. I’ll apply to be your assistant.”

Kit’s eyes widened so much that they seemed to sparkle. He let out a loud, joyous yell and began hopping excitedly. “Yes, yes, yes! Thank you, Ascent! You’re the best!” He threw himself into another hug—this one much tighter, a bone-crushing embrace that left Ascent groaning softly in discomfort. Still, he didn’t push Kit away. It seemed like Kit needed this.

Ascent sighed internally, already bracing himself for what he’d gotten into.

*~*

Fun Fact: Crown's (KOM DJ) assistant is Des (ATG DJ). But neither Kit nor Ascent knows that as Des tends to work behind the curtains and refuse to tell anyone he's Crown's assistant.

Fun Fun Fact: When coming to the Association world, both Vee and his DJ go together! You can say it's their way of hanging out as the both of them are always so busy with their schoolwork <3

[chickenkurage]

“Turns out, you aren’t so perfect” (The DJ Association Short Fic)

Summary: Harv finds out Des’s fear.

Tag/s: Humor/Comedy

*~*

Harv: Farmer DJ

Des: Ascension to Godhood DJ

*~*

"Watering doesn’t necessarily mean you have to drown them," Harv commented, his voice carrying a note of amusement as he glanced at Des. The latter stood awkwardly to the side, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish expression. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of oversized gardening gloves hung loosely on his hands, making him look even more out of place.

Harv crouched down and carefully pulled a wilted flower from the soil, holding it up as if to inspect the damage. With a quick motion, he gestured for Des to bring the trash bag closer. Des hurried to comply, fumbling slightly as Harv dropped the limp flower into the bag.

"Sorry," Des mumbled, his voice low, tinged with embarrassment.

Harv only snorted, shaking his head as he waved the apology away. "It’s alright. You’ll learn," he replied with a small grin before turning back to the garden bed. He dug into the soil, his movements methodical as he extracted another dead flower and dropped it into the bag.

Des stood over him, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His gloved hands hovered uncertainly above the soil, unsure of where to start. He finally crouched down, mimicking Harv’s posture but hesitated again.

Harv resisted the urge to laugh, glancing up at him. It was rare to see Des look so out of his element. Ever since he’d arrived here, Des had been the type to dive into everything headfirst, tackling tasks alongside Crown with a competence that left little room for doubt. He carried himself with an air of effortless capability, as though there wasn’t a single thing he couldn’t handle. But now, seeing him so unsure—hovering over the soil like it might bite him—was a surprising yet oddly amusing sight.

“It’s harder than it looks, huh?" Des finally admitted, his voice breaking the silence as he poked at the dirt with a gloved finger.

Harv chuckled softly. "How about this," he said, motioning toward a set of potted sunflowers resting nearby. "I’ll handle the digging, and you can help me replant these once we’re done. Deal?"

Des frowned, clearly reluctant to back down from the challenge, but after a moment of deliberation, he nodded and shuffled back to give Harv space.

Harv worked with unhurried precision, taking his time so Des could observe. His hands moved confidently as he loosened the soil and tugged at the flower’s roots. "If the plant’s alive, you’d want to loosen the soil with water first," Harv explained, snapping off a few dead roots and tossing them into the trash bag. "But since it’s already dead, you can just do this."

"I see," Des murmured, leaning in closer.

Harv was about to continue when he noticed the soil shift unexpectedly. He froze for a moment, puzzled, before spotting the source of the movement—a small, light-brown worm wriggling its way to the surface. He let out a soft snort of laughter, amused by the little creature’s dramatic escape.

Behind him, he heard Des stir, his curiosity evidently piqued. "What’s wrong?" Des asked, peering over Harv’s shoulder.

Harv bent down and picked up the worm, letting it squirm in his palm. He turned to show it to Des, a grin spreading across his face. "A worm!" he announced, clearly delighted by the discovery.

Des stared at the wriggling creature with wide eyes, his expression unreadable at first.

"I didn’t think a worm would even exist here," Harv said as he watched the worm twist and curl in his hand. "Not even a bird shows up in the sky, and yet here it is." With a playful smirk, he extended his hand toward Des, letting the worm inch closer.

Des took a step back immediately, his face remaining oddly blank, though his skin was visibly paling.

"W-Worm," Des stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Harv blinked in surprise, lowering his hand. "You okay?" he asked, his tone softening as he placed a reassuring hand on Des’s shoulder.

Des turned away, hugging himself as if to ward off some unseen chill. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, but when he finally turned back, his voice sounded hollow, like the life had been drained out of him. "I... I hate worms."

Harv’s eyebrows shot up, and he fought the urge to laugh outright. "You hate worms?" he asked, his lips twitching with barely-contained amusement.

Des nodded stiffly, his shoulders tense. "I can’t stand them," he muttered, his voice trembling slightly.

Harv gave in to a quiet chuckle and dropped the worm back into the soil. "Alright, alright, no more worms," he said.

But the moment the worm hit the dirt, Des let out a sharp shriek and scrambled to his feet. His movements were frantic as he stumbled backward, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to put distance between himself and the tiny creature.

"A-Ah, wait!" Harv called after him, holding out a hand, but it was too late. Des was already retreating, his face pale as a ghost, before he turned on his heel and bolted toward the house.

Harv watched him go, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "Well," he muttered to himself, "guess I found something he’s not good at."

The worm wriggled innocently in the dirt, completely unaware of the chaos it had caused.