#dghda fic

[clockworkcheetah]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

THE TIMELOOP FIC

Todd Brotzman centric - rated M - chapter 1 of ?

[agent-p-writes]

Theodora - Dora to the fewer and fewer people who think they know her; Theo to the actual friends she's long since lost; Dot to one confused grandmother who passed seven years ago today; and Todd to her kid sister, who's spent the past five years wishing Theo had gone, too - so to more or less everyone, Theodora - is having a shit day.

First, her car got wrecked. Her shitty, shitty landlord, who gets paid an extortion fee already, when Theo hasn’t said a word about the fraying wires or the faulty plumbing or the rats she’s definitely seen, more than once, eating the packages before they get stolen from the front hall - her landlord wrecked her car. And didn’t just wreck it, either - took a tire iron and beat the living daylights out of it, like Theo’s car was the one who’d driven him to a life of drugs and petty crime. 

Then she got fired. Well, then she saw - she saw - she still doesn’t know what the fuck she saw, except a lot of blood, and a body that - wasn’t right - and then she was stumbling down the hallway, a lot less punk in real life than she wanted to admit. And after - maybe because of, she’s not really sure what was going on in Hector’s head, and never will be again, she guesses - then she got fired.

Following which, she had to take the bus. Which, yeah, support public transit, but she’s pretty sure the people who say that never had to spend thirty extra seconds digging the final quarter for the bus fare out of the last pocket she checked because her wallet has a hole in it and that’s definitely why she’s broke, not because of bad luck and worse choices.

And now someone’s climbing in her window.

She opens the door and her first thought is, it’s a girl. Then she thinks, of course it’s a girl, girls can burgle apartments just as well as guys, and actually they’re probably better at it, because when you see a girl in your china cabinet, your first thought isn’t, oh my god call the police, it’s, why is there a manic pixie dream girl in my kitchen. Because she is - a manic pixie dream girl, that is. With her reddish-blonde hair and her wide grayish-blue eyes and a yellow jacket that screams, I live in primary colors. She’s even wearing a tie. 

“Hiiiii,” she says.

Theo throws a shoe at her.

There follows a frankly embarrassing half-catfight, half… ninja something? Theo’s not really sure what the other girl is going for, though it’s pretty on par for the manic pixie thing. Theo gets in one good punch (alright, maybe more of a slap) so her honor is safe or whatever. The chick is stronger than she expected, actually. Under that jacket Theo expected noodle waif arms, but she’s feeling biceps, which is confusing, to say the least.

“Stop it - jesus - with the - push!” the chick says, managing to shove Theo a few steps away, out of her own kitchen (and there goes her microwave, rip frozen burritos). “What the hell, man?”

“You, what the hell? No! Me, what the hell!” Theo says. “How did you get in here?”

“The window, obviously,” she says, and Theo is going to respond to that but before she can take a breath the girl goes on, “Do you attack everyone who comes in here? Seems like a weird thing to do, but live and let live –”

“You can’t just break into my apart–”

“Well, clearly I can, I mean, I just did –”

“I’ll call the poli - hey!”

Theo’s attempted threat, which is definitely totally going to happen, just like the times she called the police on her drug dealing landlord and her shitty boss and, who knows, maybe even the police themselves, after that interrogation this afternoon, is undercut by the girl grabbing Theo’s hand like some kind of manic pixie palm reader. It has reached Theo’s attention by now that the burglar is also British, because of course she is. British, weirdly strong, possibly (definitely) a criminal, possessed of deranged fashion sense - what’s not to love here?

“I’m trying to decide if you’re a clue –”

“-- put that down –”

“-- an accomplice… or an assistant.”

“Who are you - what is this?”

“Have you noticed an acceleration of strangeness in your life as of late? Perhaps a series of intense or extraordinary events, which, as of now, seem unconnected, with the exception of each being separately bizarre?”

Theo would love to say that she has tuned out during all of this - that she is preparing to grab her shoe again, or maybe a knife, and chase out whoever the fuck this is. She’s claimed her hand back, at least. 

But. 

“Perhaps every day before now has, for the most part, been humdrum and inane, your life a mundane, unvarying slog through unfulfilling jobs, shallow depression,and boring, boring sex?”

“Well –” Theo blurts out, because that emphasis can’t have been necessary –

“And then suddenly, today, everything changed, and your life became a swirl of interesting activity?”

Interesting, Theo thinks. Interesting. Blood and bite marks and torsos and sawed-in-half pianos and a lottery ticket and herself –

But how could she possibly know –

The chick’s face breaks into a slow, broad smile. “An assistant,” she says. “I knew it!”

She slaps Theo on the shoulder and crosses the room, leaving Theo feeling like getting steamrolled, or whacked in the stomach with Dorian’s baseball bat. “Oh - my name is Darcy Gray, I’m a detective, I live here now, and…” She plops down on Theo’s couch, makes an approving noise, and finishes, “I’ll be sleeping here tonight.”

Yeah… 

…no.

“You’re a terrible assistant,” the girl calls through the door, Theo having managed to throw her out without any more ninja-whatever. Theo leans against the door and sighs. The weight of the day settles down on her all at once. She’s fired. Her car’s busted. She needs a new lock on her window, and maybe a microwave, and some self defense lessons, too, why not. Maybe she’ll win the fucking lottery. She very determinedly does not pull the lottery ticket out from where it’s been burning a hole in her pocket all afternoon.

She needs a drink. She needs a shower. She needs…

Have you noticed an acceleration of strangeness in your life as of late?

…to stop thinking about tall girls with crisp vowels and ice-cream-patterned ties and auburn hair way too smooth for someone who’d just climbed in a window. She moves away from the door, stomping loudly so Darla-whatever knows she’s not about to be let back in.

Darcy Gray.

She can’t even pretend she’s forgotten.

Theo has had enough false starts to know a little about beginnings. She can feel one creeping up on her. She’d love to say she’s fighting it back with all she’s worth, but she’s not worth much, and she’s just proven she can’t fight. 

She plops down on the couch from which Darcy Gray, Detective, was recently ejected. Assistant, she thinks, as her eyes drift closed. Theodora Watson. Sure. Why the hell not.

And then, suddenly, today, everything changed, and your life became a swirl of interesting activity…

Interesting, she will very soon realize, is barely the start.

[wizardinahole]

Upon meeting Dirk Gently for the first time, most people quickly form the same opinion, that he is impossible. The uncanny way in which people always find themselves in the right place at the right time around him, his eclectic set of knowledge and his unsettling intuition all seem, frankly, impossible. Of course, if you spend enough time around him you learn that the truth is the exact opposite. In fact, his whole thing, the way he works, the cases he solves, all centre around things being, well, possible. And while he often finds himself tangled up in the supernatural, the scientifically impossible, no sequence of events, is ever left unexplained.

Todd knew this. He also knew that Dirk had an affinity for lime milkshakes (something he would never understand) and music that was aimed at any demographic other than whatever Dirk could possibly be lumped into. The last thing Todd knew, that seemed relevant right now, was that Dirk was about to walk through the front door. What he was not expecting was the blood and dirt that he was covered in. “Well, that,” huffed Dirk “was a bureaucratic nightmare.” Todd took a second to process this.

“Only you could experience a ‘bureaucratic nightmare’ and end up covered in blood. Wait no, whose blood is that?”

“It’s not mine, don’t worry” Dirk flopped face first onto the couch.

“Is it… human?”

“Todd, I need your advice. As my assistant, what would you recommend when someone is horribly tired and absolutely famished, should they, theoretically, eat or sleep.”

Todd sighed. “I think, in this purely hypothetical situation, this person should take a shower because *they’re covered in blood*!”.

“Well Todd, I think you’re making a very bold assumption that this hypothetical premise that I have presented you with is actually about me. However, I do think in this case you may be correct.” Todd stood there, looking at the bedraggled man on the couch. Who, notably, did not make any move to actually get up and have a shower. “I’ve encountered an issue with your plan Todd. I don’t really want to get up.”

Todd smiled and walked around the couch. “Well, I guess I’d better do something to help with that then” he said. Dirk turned his head to look up at him, a question forming on his lips, but he didn’t get to ask it before Todd attacked. He went right for Dirk’s stomach which was now facing upwards.

“Todd!” Dirk Squealed, as Todd tickled him and jumped out of the way of his kicking legs. “How could you attack someone while they’re this vulnerable, honestly! I thought better of you!” and he crossed his arms defiantly. Todd bent down and scooped Dirk up, grinning. Dirk finally gave in and gave a feeble smile. He wrapped his arms around Todd’s neck and buried his face in his shoulder. Todd carried him up the stairs, his hair was soft despite the filth, and he was warm, his breath tickling Todd’s neck.

Todd placed Dirk on the bed. “Have shower. I’ll make omelettes.” Todd was at the door when Dirk said his name. He turned and saw Dirk sitting cross-legged on the bed, smiling. Todd looked into his eyes, there was a warmth there, a gratefulness that Todd had never seen in anyone before without feeling a pang of guilt. Dirk looked at Todd as if all he ever needed was to have him by his side and he would be ok, no matter what.

“I’m really glad you know,” Dirk said, “that everything connected in a way that kept us together.”

Todd smiled “I owe the universe one this time, don’t I?”

[littlestoneinspace]

My dearest person

For fic

[lightupthenigth]

Hey I did something for once! I participated in @dghdabigbang along with the lovely writer @clockworkcheetah !!!

Go read her fic!! It’s great!!

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[lavinialost]

“Boop!”

One moment, Todd’s dozing, one earbud in his ear blasting Soundgarden at max volume. The next, without warning, a hand firmly plants itself smack dab in the middle of his forehead with a resounding thwack.

His eyes fly open, the nap he’d been trying to finagle at his desk in the middle of a workday thoroughly interrupted, to find Dirk standing over him, grinning like an idiot. Todd pulls the earbud out of his ear, the tinny hum of Black Hole Sun still barely audible.

“Wh– what the fuck was that?” 

He presses a hand over where the skin of his forehead is smarting, still trying to process what had just happened.

“A boop, Todd, obviously. I booped you. You have been booped.”

“You just–? I was–? What were you–? I just–?” Todd stutters, trying to come up with the right sequence of words to express the potent cocktail of abrupt shock, burgeoning annoyance, and utter bewilderment flooding his brain in response to being hit on the head for no reason. “Why?”

“Well, you see, I spent the morning observing our beloved shat’s behavior–”

“Please stop calling her that.”

“But that’s what she is,” Dirk protests. “She’s a shark and a cat: ergo, shat.”

“She has a name that we all voted and agreed on that isn’t… shat.”

For the record, it’s Cecilia, not that Dirk ever uses it. 

“Yes, well, semantics aside, I spent a significant portion of my morning conducting an observational study on her behavior, and came to the conclusion that, when in a playful mood and faced with a familiar individual whose undivided attention she desires, she performs what I have expertly dubbed a ‘boop’.”

Todd’s experienced– he’s not going to call it ‘booping’, he’s still got some pride remaining– whatever this is from the agency’s adopted shark-cat many times before. She’ll drape herself across the nearest occupied desk and bat at its occupant with her paws until she’s gotten what she’s wanted. But while (as long as she’s not using her claws) the shark-cat’s attempts at diversion are endearing at best and distracting at worst, Dirk’s attempt to emulate her had been downright painful.

“Don’t do it again,” Todd says shortly. With any luck, Dirk will actually listen. 

“Of course you wouldn’t appreciate it,” he frowns. “I should have guessed, since you’re a self-professed dog person for some indiscernible reason.”

“I promise you, there’s not a single person on Earth who would appreciate being hit on the head, dog person or not.”

As if summoned by the universe itself, Cecilia picks this moment to join the argument, jumping up onto Todd’s desk and flopping down next to his arm, purring, totally unaware of the chaos she’s wrought on the agency today. 

“Well, the shat agrees with me, doesn’t she?”

Cecilia flicks the tip of her tail and bumps her forehead against Dirk’s hand. Traitor. This is why Todd prefers dogs. 

“Now, where’s Farah gone off to?”

“Bad idea,” Todd warns.

“I don’t know what you mean, it’s an excellent idea. I’m sure she’ll appreciate my foray into feline methods of affection much more than you did.”

“Dude, I’m warning you–”

“And I don’t want to hear it. She’s in the interrogation room, right?”

Whatever Todd says isn’t going to matter; Dirk’s obviously not listening to him. Mustering up all the judgment he has in him (spoiler: it’s a lot), he stares Dirk down with flat condemnation in one final attempt to dissuade him.

“Right?” Dirk tries again, totally unaffected.

Todd sighs and gives in. “Whatever, it’s your funeral, man.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

Dirk practically skips out of the room, hurtling headlong into what Todd’s sure is certain death. 

Whatever happens, it’s out of Todd’s hands now. He sits back in his chair, arms crossed, and waits.

Sure enough, Dirk’s voice rings out from the next room moments later.

“Boop!”

Thwack.

And then, from the other room, there’s a startled cry, the all-too-familiar crashing sound of a table collapsing under the sudden weight of a fully grown adult, and a brief moment of stunned silence broken by muffled, distressed groaning.

Todd winces. That sounded painful.

“Dirk, what the hell was that?!” comes Farah’s exasperated cry, echoing sharply down the hall.

Well, Todd thinks, putting his single headphone back in and resting his head back down against his desk, he had tried to warn Dirk.

[frenchfriedgiraffe]

soo…. ive written a fic.

do you like weird, offbeat comedy with a side of “what the fuck did i just read?” check out the fic i wrote for the @dghdabigbang. featuring dirk and todd doing insane things, plus trees, and more trees. and even more trees

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

and also this fic has ART thank you to the wondeful @jules-al-c for illustrating a beautiful piece which i highly recommend you check out!!!

[goatyoat]

AAA OMG ITS HERE

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Hiii!!! Goaty coming to you for the first time as a WRITER for a dghda Bang!!! I've had this AU swimming in my head for over 2 years now and this was just the kick i needed to finally write it. Thank you so much to the folks over at @dghdabigbang for continuing to plan and host these events! I was paired with the wonderful, @irelah whose art will be posted later. (i will reblog it with fervor you will not miss it) (i will also link it in the fic)