#dghda fic

[littlestoneinspace]

My dearest person

For fic

#dirk gently's holistic detective agency #brotzly #todd brotzman #dirk gently #dirk x todd #dghda fanart #dghda fic #dghda #sketchbook #sketch

[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.

#in honor of april fool's day and the boop-o-meter my beloved #dghda #dghda fic

[corvidiss]

idk what this is but courtesy of my brain while i was half asleep last night thinking soft things. woe, brotzly be upon ye

—

“Take control of your life, Dirk.”

Dirk looks at him. “Is that a British accent?”

“I don’t do accents.”

That’s his British accent. That’s Todd’s British accent. It’s brilliant. Brilliantly awful, that is. It’s terrible and it makes Dirk want to jump up and down on the spot lots of times. Instead, he says, “No, I love it.”

And Todd goes… sort of squishy– No, not squishy, more– soft and fuzzy round the edges, like– like a kitten, warming and healing– And then Todd steps up, puts his hands on Dirk’s shoulders and–

Right.

This is, Dirk is aware, what is called “a kiss.” And it’s–

It’s–

It’s not how he expected. Largely due to the fact that he did not expect it at all – but he’s realising, staring at the blurred, headache-close view of Todd’s face, that all those times he’s had Thoughts – of going close to Todd, and, and Being close to Todd, and– general very much Closeness – were all that time quietly keening for this.

And this is…

Well, okay, he’s seen it before, occasionally, in the background, but it’s not like he ever looked closely because that would be weird, and also weird – and it turns out, it’s not– well it’s sort of messy. Kind of. Like– like trying to put two jigsaw pieces together when they come from different boxes and the wiggly bits don’t actually match up, except the wiggly bits are soft and fleshy and–

He should stop thinking about this.

He has, he’s finding out, no idea what he’s doing. Really, really no idea what he’s doing. There aren’t instructions for this, just like there aren’t instructions for anything in any of life which is really quite stupid, actually, but this is extremely very unnavigable and indecipherable and he should get out of this and scuttle away before he makes everything go wrong, but–

Well–

Okay so the thing is. The thing is. Even with the flesh jigsaw and the Not Knowing and the Get Out warnings in his head, even with all of that, it’s, well–

Nice.

Which is weird.

But also, weirdly, not weird. It’s sort of like falling into a shockingly cold pond and then finding, under the surface, right down at the bottom, a little mossy chest of gold you lost when you were five.

Or something.

Todd disconnects himself and takes half a step back. He has an expression which is like expectation, but conditional, and wobbly.

Dirk lifts a finger, opens his mouth, and then discovers that, for once, he cannot think of anything to say.

It’s not that there isn’t anything to say. He feels like there are Many Many things he wants to say but they’re all buried in the static pond at the bottom of his mind and won’t rise high enough to translate into speakable words. So he just. Stands there.

But Todd’s face is sliding towards Fear and Regret with a side of Grilled Concern and he’s taking another step away and something in Dirk Goes Off with a familiar little twing that says This Is Bad, so he steps into the gap Todd put between them and raises a hand and… And realises he still has no idea what he’s doing. So he just sort of puts his pointy finger on the soft bit between Todd’s collar bone and ribcage, and. Smiles.

Todd (thankfully) gets the message.

#dghda #dghda fic #my writing #dirk gently's holistic detective agency #brotzly #i might finish this at some point and post it to AO3 but for now it doesn't feel finished enough to go there #there's More to be Said #question is whether I'll get round to Saying it hfvdsgvgfds

[clockworkcheetah]

my fic for the dghda reverse bang 2023 @dghdabigbang! featuring the lovely art of @psychosassicvampire it was a pleasure!

Todd brotzman/dirk gently - 2k - Rated G

#dghda #brotzly #todd brotzman #dirk gently #dghda fic #my fics #dghda reverse bang 2023 #dirk gently's holistic detective agency

[oneprotagonistshort]

fic: hopeless, breathless, burning slow

Pairing: Todd Brotzman/Dirk Gently Rating: E Words: 5274 Summary: Dirk is so rarely still that he often forgets what it feels like. Even when he’s not physically in motion, the wheels in his head never stop turning; some intrinsic part of him is always listening for the stream of creation like he’s a radio telescope waiting for a distant ping to give him somewhere new to turn his attention.

Inexplicably, sex is the only thing he’s encountered so far that can shut it all down. It’s not just calm, it’s quiet. It’s bliss. Author's Note: Don’t mind me, this is just a horny little treatise on how Dirk experiences stillness, trust, inner peace, and getting railed so hard he forgets his own name. Emphasis on “horny.”

A million thanks to @r-dtoblack for the beta, the way you immediately responded "YEAH" when I asked was beyond validating. I also cannot have an author's note on a Dirk Gently fic without acknowledging that deep down all of this is so @mangoamango will think I'm cool. read on ao3

#dirk gently's holistic detective agency #dghda #brotzly #dghda fic #not me out here finishing the random pwp instead of any of my big projects #if you recognize the title I fucking see you

[generalized-incompetence]

“Hey, Dirk,” says Tina, sniggering, “you ever heard of this movie Goncharov?”

Dirk drops a stack of five plates.

“Oh, no,” he says.

(Read on AO3 here)

Tina runs for the nearest broom as Dirk runs for the nearest computer. By the time the plate shards are swept up, Dirk has opened about sixty tabs. “This can’t be happening,” he says, clicking on five more links. “It’s not possible.”

“Mm,” says Tina, “seems around you, just about anything’s possible.”

“But Goncharov,” says Dirk, desperately. “It doesn’t exist.”

“Well, duh,” Tina shrugs. “It’s an internet joke. Crowdsourcing a made-up movie. There’s a pret-ty hot love triangle, too - wanna see?”

“No!” says Dirk, flinging up his hands. “It does exist, it just - it shouldn’t. It can’t, not anymore. I already solved that one.”

Tina stops looking for fanart. “Wait,” she says, “Goncharov is a case?”

—

“The mind wipe,” Dirk announces, half an hour later, “has failed.”

Tina, Farah, and Todd blink at him. “What mind wipe?” says Todd finally.

“The Goncharov mind wipe,” says Dirk. “It’s wearing off. Oh, I told Thor it wouldn’t last!”

“Thor?” says Farah.

“Wearing off?” says Todd.

“Wait, so there’s real footage of the hot love triangle?” says Tina.

“Focus!” says Dirk. “This is important! Clearly, the repressed memories are already bleeding through - if this spreads, who knows what will happen!”

“Not us,” says Todd, “since you haven’t told us anything about it.”

Dirk glares at him. “It’s very simple,” he says. “Loki, god of mischief, weaseled his way into a theatrical re-release of Martin Scorsese’s most famous mafia movie, in an attempt to spread his mind-controlling message to a wider audience - and also possibly for a chance to star alongside famed actor Robert DeNiro, though I have to say, Loki’s acting chops were nowhere near as professional –”

“Loki is in Goncharov?” says Tina, bouncing up and down. “Who is he? Not Andrey? Oh - Katya?”

“Er,” says Dirk, “frozen… Steve?”

“Ice pick Joe?!” says Tina.

“Wait - back up,” says Farah, getting off the couch and heading for one of the six whiteboards scattered around the agency (Dirk refuses to erase any “essential records,” which includes Mona’s doodles, Farah’s grocery lists, Todd’s drunk-after-midnight song lyrics, and Dirk’s confusing string walls, so in lieu of reuse, they just keep buying more). “Mind-controlling message? About - what, exactly?”

“World domination,” says Dirk. “What else?”

“What, like, make way for our mythological Norse overlords?” says Todd.

“Todd,” says Dirk, “the art of mind control is that of subtle insinuation. The smallest nudge to a person’s most seemingly innocuous impulse might one day bring about Ragnarok itself. The pathways of the human brain are far beyond any of us to begin to fathom.”

Todd exchanges glances with Tina. “So…” he says.

“So “Make way for our mythological Norse overlords” was embedded in the credits, yes,” says Dirk.

Farah pauses halfway through busily scribbling a semi-coherent list of Dirk’s far-from-coherent retelling. “If it’s just the credits,” she says, “couldn’t you replace that segment? Instead of mind-wiping the entire human race?”

“Yeah, who watches the credits, anyway?” says Tina. “Farah, you don’t count, no one else cares about the back-up apprentice costume designer.”

“Yes, that was my suggestion,” says Dirk, “but I was, er, overruled. Thor doesn’t generally go in for half-measures, in my experience.”

“And how extensive is that experience?” says Tina.

“We’re getting off-track,” says Dirk quickly. “The important thing is, the mind-wipe wore off. And if everyone suddenly remembers Goncharov, they’ll also remember the credits. And if they remember the credits…”

“Make way for Loki,” says Todd gloomily.

Everyone stares at the whiteboard.

“Okay,” says Farah, clapping her hands together, “so all we have to do is find Thor, find the mind-wipe technology, debug the mind-wipe technology so it works this time, figure out how to deploy it correctly, and get Thor to mind-wipe the entire human race a second time, before everyone remembers Goncharov and Loki comes back. If he’s not back already.”

Everyone stares at Farah.

The doorbell rings, and then the door bursts open. “DIRK GENTLY!” roars a voice. “Hail and well met!”

—

“You broke the mind wipe box?” says Dirk, aghast.

Thor squirms on the couch. Thor is the only one on the couch, because he takes up most of the couch. Farah is still by the whiteboard, and Todd and Tina are standing by Dirk, completely failing not to stare.

“I didn’t break it!” Thor protests. “I simply - misplaced it. Onto a chair. Which I then sat on. Which was, honestly, far worse for me than for that box, given all the unpleasantly sharp components.”

Todd shakes his head and wishes Thor didn’t sound so much like Dirk, with a deeper voice and a slightly different accent. It’s hurting his brain. He tries and fails to stop looking at Thor’s bare arms. They take up an unfair amount of his field of view.

“Thor,” says Dirk, putting his hands on his hips, “we’ve talked about this. You must be more careful where you sit.”

“Again,” says Thor, “I did not know that hat was valuable.”

“It was cursed!” Dirk squawks.

“Can everyone focus!” says Farah. “Thor, do you have the box with you?”

Thor shifts slightly and pulls out a mangled cube. It looks like a movie prop that, well, someone has sat on. The translucent blue sides are faded and dusty, and wires are poking out of the middle.

“...Sorry,” says Thor.

Tina squints at the box. “You’re tellin’ me this thing is why I forgot the boat scene?” she says. “I dressed up as the boat scene for Halloween!”

“...You were a boat?” says Todd.

“I was six,” says Tina, “and in retrospect, the homoerotic overtones went way over my head. Cool costume, though.”

Farah, meanwhile, examines the box. “This isn’t too bad,” she says. “It should definitely be fixable. Probably. Almost certainly.”

“If only we still had Patrick’s lab,” Dirk sighs.

Farah’s eyes twitch sideways. “Well…” she says.

The door opens again. “Farah!” yells Lydia. “Have you heard of this movie Goncharov?”

—

“Of course I can fix it,” says Lydia.

Everyone sits forward on their respective couch, couch armrests, chairs, or, in Dirk’s case, table. “You can?” says Thor.

“Yeah,” Lydia shrugs. “This is all 80s tech - it’s built to last. These transistors are comically huge. If you want, I can swap it out for new stuff - might take a little longer, but it’d be, like, credit card sized.”

“Could you really?” says Dirk. “Is this one of those Boring Law things?”

“Whatever’s fastest,” says Farah, before Dirk can fall down another endless hole of knowledge he’ll forget till his next case. “Lydia, do you have everything you need here?”

“Yeah, it’s all at my bench. Give me a sec.”

Lydia takes off towards the workbench Farah set up two months into Lydia’s Belize stay, and the rest of them sit back to wait. Dirk hums something under his breath. Farah goes back to writing on the whiteboard.

“So,” says Tina to Thor, after a moment of silence, “did you two ever…”

“I’ll order a pizza,” says Todd, shooting up.

—

Todd barely gets back off the phone before Lydia returns with the repaired device.

“That’s it?” says Tina, frowning at the cube.

“It’s an ancient artifact of my people,” says Thor.

“Which you sat on,” says Dirk.

“Something I learned from my dad,” says Lydia, “is that sometimes the smallest things cause the most problems. Even when the tech is ancient. Maybe especially then.”

She sets the cube on the table and taps something on the side. A blue glow creeps up the sides. The cube begins to pulse faintly, seeming to draw space in around it. It’s mesmerizing, in an unsettling sort of way.

“...Yeah, I hate that,” says Tina.

Dirk shudders. “Thor, can you…” he says.

Thor places one large hand over the cube, cutting off the hypnotic light. “I shall need a higher vantage point,” he says. “Wait for my signal.” He’s out the door before anyone can say anything else, to possibly everyone’s relief. A second later, there’s a flash of lightning, and a resounding boom of thunder, and everyone jumps as though they’ve been shocked.

“Well!” says Dirk, shaking himself and standing up. “That was… a thing.”

“Wait - that’s it?” says Todd. “We met Thor, and now he’s just… gone?”

“Yes, that’s how he generally operates,” says Dirk over his shoulder. “It’s part of the reason we… well.”

“Part of the reason you what?” says Tina.

“Popcorn, anyone?” says Dirk.

“Popcorn?” says Farah. “Why?”

“Why, for the movie, of course,” says Dirk, then pauses. “Er. I think.”

“No, there was a movie,” says Todd. “Wasn’t there? Something about - um - shit.”

Tina props her legs up on the table. “Hey, Far,” she says, “what’s up with your handwriting today? That whiteboard’s a mess.”

Farah looks at the whiteboard, where a whole square of notes has gotten completely smudged. “...Huh,” she says. “Must’ve slipped.”

“Pizza’s here,” says Lydia from the doorway, where none of them heard a knock.

“Pizza!” exclaims Dirk, and everyone entirely forgets what they were ever worried about.

(And somewhere, deep underground, Loki sighs and logs offline, thwarted again from his latest and nearly successful plan to escape at last.)

#i am SO sorry everyone this came out of nowhere and i haven't proofread it At All and i know i'm like four months behind the bit but #i couldn't NOT write it in fact it wrote itself so. i know i am often like 'this is the stupidest thing i have ever written' but this is #ACTUALLY the stupidest thing i have ever written but it went in directions i Did Not Expect in its short length so i hope u enjoy it too <3 #dghda #dghda fic #dirk gently's holistic detective agency #dirk gently #todd brotzman #lydia spring #farah black #tina tevetino #goncharov #my fic #(also for the record this is Sandman Loki who's underground waiting for ragnarok except instead of getting his liver eaten he's #chilling on tumblr which may be an equal amt of torture idk.)

[firebloodmayhemred]

This is my art for the DGHDA Bang 2023! I was paired with the wonderful @sonichtheheghodge who's writing a fic where the gang plays dnd, and I had so much fun drawing this concept.

Check out the fic here, https://archiveofourown.org/works/48496255/chapters/122327758 it updates this week!

#dghda bang 2023 #dghda #dirk gentlys holistic detective agency #dghda big bang #dghda art #dghda fanart #dghda fic #my art #dghdabigbang

[mystical-writings]

I've decided that what I need right now is to become obsessed with Dirk Gently again. It's simply time to restart that trainwreck

#dirk gently's holistic detective agency #dirk gently #maybe I'll finally finish my fanfiction too #dghda #dghda fic

[wolfswitcheryanimations]

An artwork I did for @filthy-lil-bugger for their fic, "call it a hunch", for the @dghdabigbang !

Here's a link!

#dghda #dirk gently's holistic detective agency #dghda fic #dirk gently #dghda big bang #art #dghda fanart #artists on tumblr

[littlestoneinspace]

Sketches for fic

#brotzly #todd brotzman #dirk gently #dirk x todd #dghda fanart #dghda #dghda fic #sketch #dirk gently's holistic detective agency

[lavinialost]

happy belated valentine’s day!!!!! here’s part two of my reverse bang fic for @dghdabigbang 💛💖❤️💙🧡💚💕🤍 tags have been appropriately updated to reflect the new chapter!

BUT WAIT THERE’S STILL MORE!!!! @ramdotexe has MORE ART that you should go check out/like/reblog!!!

#dghda #dghda fic #(kamala harris voice) we did it joe!!! #it only took me….. a month 😭 #now i can finally be crucified for reverse bang crimes

[capriciouslyterminal]

Hi! Is there somewhere we can read the novel you wrote about the Rowdy 3?

Hi! Yes! The Dirk Gently fic I am (honestly) the most proud of in my entire fic-writing stint. It's on Archive of Our Own (so you'll need an account there to read it) and here's the link to A Road Song in Quartet That Smells like a Trio. Thank you so much for asking!!

And, as a taster, the intro!

The last bar out of this town south of nowhere is more creak than wood with more static than music pouring out of the sun-bleached jukebox when he walks in. The quality of the music only gets worse as he appears like something walking straight out of a crossroads. Shaking the dust off his boots, the Hell from his hands. 

He hasn’t eaten in a week and that means he’s still got his head on straight but things around him, things in the air, go a bit peculiar-like. Sound bends to get away from him like tiny schools of fish scattering before something dark and slow moving, puffs of smoke thread in opposite directions to let him pass, and poor Johnny Cash’s already washed out voice goes slow and stumbling like he’s playing straight from the grave.

But at least the place is empty enough that Martin can actually take a seat at the bar and tap his cigarette in the ashtray without his metaphysical stomach growling (his actual stomach doesn’t do much). The lone woman wiping down the counter stays at the other side of the room, seems perfectly content with the fact that he’s not ordering a drink, and has eyes that say she’s stared into this same empty night outside this same shithole town enough times that her feelings are a fetid puddle at her feet. 

Eating tonight would be like drinking piss through a straw. And there’s comfort in that. Hunger sits beside him, panting like an unchained dog, but it turns up its nose up at the menu tonight. 

And for a man-shaped thing like Martin that’s peace.

#dirk gently #dirk gently's holistic detective agency #dirk gently's holistic detective agency fic #The Rowdy 3 #dghda #dghda fic #The Rowdy 3 fic #my writing #oh you mean my magnum opus? The thing I'm proudest of? #A fic that made me cry while writing it and cry when it receives comments? #That fic? #I want to hand it to everyone I know #I am constantly waiting to talk about it

[corvidiss]

Greetings, Dirk Gently fandom; I bring you great news! A saviour has been born!

Introducing: a searchable DGHDA scene index!

-

What is it?

It's a way to categorise and search for every single scene in the show.

You can sort by character, tone, season, activity level, etc, and the spreadsheet will automatically give you all the scenes that match your search with a link to their start and end times on YouTube!

Why?

The original intention of this was for fic writers – as the writing equivalent of a folder of reference images. But it has as many applications as you can think of for it!

How?

Four days of me hyperfocusing on spreadsheet formulae. Worth it.

-

But!!! There's a Problem!

See, I've set the whole thing up, with formatting and formulae and so on – but, at present, there isn't actually anything in it.

There's something like 900 scenes in the whole show.

So: I'm asking for your help!

I've got a document linked below explaining everything involved, but in short: if we produce a community effort and divide the episodes between us, the whole thing will be filled out and functional much more quickly!

There's no pressure to do anything you don't feel up for, so don't feel like you have to input loads to take part! And if you don't take part at all for any reason, that's also completely fine. Your presence in the fandom is always enough <3

If you do feel up for anything, your help will be greatly appreciated!!

Interested? Read the document and get in touch!!

The Guide Document:

The Spreadsheet:

(The sheet is view-only at the moment for safety. Read the document and get in touch with me if you'd like to help out!)

-

P.S. We've got an active DGHDA discord server if you'd like to hang out and discuss anything DGHDA related! The guys there have been vital to this spreadsheet's production so far, and are wonderful to be around; come join us if you want to! Here's the link - DM me somewhere if it's expired!

#dghda #dirk gently's holistic detective agency #fanfic related #dghda fic #writing resources #tw big text #tw bold text #'There isn't actually anything in it' is now not technically true because we've got some wonderful people inputting already!! #but you get the gist #also sorry about the biblical wording at the top

[clockworkcheetah]

the proposal fic! aka todd is dumb for almost 7k words

todd brotzman/dirk gently - 6.8k - rated T

#dghda #brotzly #todd brotzman #dirk gently #dirk gently's holistic detective agency #dghda fic #gentlyman #my fics #this is 70% todd being dumb and angsting 25% snuggling and 5% ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[oneprotagonistshort]

also a Dirk Gently WIP whenever just for kicks. from the ongoing Forces Unseen sequel

-

“Holy shit,” Todd said, hearing Dirk come in through the door he’d left propped open. “Did you know we can see the Washington Monument from here?”

Dirk joined him at the window and wrapped an arm around his middle from behind. He was suddenly feeling a bit clingy, like he was going to need to front load all the cuddles he could get, which was abjectly ridiculous. Todd had never shied away from that, if anything it was Dirk who’d been jumpy lately about tender little moments like this. Still, Dirk couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d be wanting more of this later but might not be able to get it. He hooked his chin over Todd’s shoulder and squinted out the window, not sure what Todd was referring to. 

“The bloke on the penny’s house?” he asked, not seeing it. “I don’t think he lives in DC anymore, Todd.”

“What?” Todd asked, pulling back a little to look at him before pointing at a large lit-up obelisk surrounded by illuminated American flags. “No, that. I’ve only ever seen it in movies, National Treasure didn’t prepare me for the real thing.”

“Ohhh,” Dirk said, comprehension dawning as he held Todd close to his front. “You mean the giant pencil statue.”

“The giant—Dirk, that’s the Washington Monument. As in George Washington? It doesn’t even look like a pencil.”

“Doesn’t look much like George Washington either,” Dirk mused, and whatever retort Todd had been about to fire back was interrupted by the sharp trill of Dirk’s phone. 

#dghda fic #dghda #dirk gently's holistic detective agency #if anyone wants to come be the hype squad for this fic I would appreciate it lol #it's been sitting at 25% complete for like six months #I got the initial idea in December 2021 and started writing it in earnest in May 2022 #I still have 2.5 parts and an epilogue to go #this is why I don't post WIPs btw lmao #it has never taken me this long to write something I care about so much #it's a proposal fic and I LITERALLY GOT ENGAGED in the time it's taking to write #we're thinking of setting the date for fall 2025 and so help me god I will finish this fic before then #I set this fic in DC because I'd just moved here and wanted to use it as an excuse to explore and do cool shit like write on-location #and I'm literally leaving DC next month #I can see the giant pencil statue from where I walk my dog BUT NOT FOR LONG #get it together Briana

[generalized-incompetence]

“I give up,” says Todd. “I can’t do this.”

“Me, too,” says Farah on the other end of the line. “This is impossible.”

“What were we thinking,” says Todd.

“I have no idea,” says Farah.

“This is way too much.”

“How does anyone do it.”

Todd stares in despair at the Valentine’s chocolates in front of him, six shelves high and two rows deep. “Valentine’s Day,” he says, “sucks.”

(Read on AO3 here)

Farah sighs heavily for about the fifth time in the past ten minutes. It is both of their first non-single Valentine’s Day ever, and they are both panicking about it, for unrelated reasons. Farah is panicking because she’s always panicking, even though Todd has told her twelve times that Farah could show up on Tina’s porch with half a Snickers and Tina would probably propose. Todd is panicking because he’s a used gum wad of a human being, and he is trying not to be, and part of that involves celebrating Valentine’s Day like a thoughtful boyfriend who can do normal things like buy chocolate without wanting to set himself on fire.

“I don’t know what you’re worried about,” says Farah, in a tone that comes off as accusing. “Whatever you choose will turn out to be exactly what Dirk needed.”

“Your girlfriend is an empath!” says Todd. “She won’t even care about the chocolate, she’ll just get, like, love vibes –”

“Stress vibes,” Farah mutters.

Todd throws up his arm and accidentally knocks off a soccer-patterned box, setting off a domino effect with the boxes of Reese’s nearby (does Dirk like peanut butter?) (does Dirk even like chocolate?) (shouldn’t he know this?). “She’ll like anything you get her,” he says, attempting to restack the boxes, talk to Farah, and have a minor freak-out about whether Dirk has a secret peanut allergy, all at the same time. “I promise.”

“Even Valentine’s Ding-Dongs?” says Farah with deep skepticism. “Actually, never mind, she would love Valentine’s Ding-Dongs. She would think that’s hilarious. I would never hear the end of Valentine’s Ding-Dongs.”

“Then get her the Valentine’s Ding-Dongs,” says Todd, who has somehow also managed to topple a whole box of pink teddy bears.

“I can’t get her Valentine’s Ding-Dongs!” says Farah in near-hysteria.

Todd settles the last of the teddy bears back on the shelf. “This is stupid,” he says. “We’re being stupid. Tina would eat anything here.”

“So would Dirk!” says Farah.

“Maybe your store is better than mine,” says Todd, frowning at a box that says “Love ya!” in what looks like Comic Sans.

“I really, really doubt that,” says Farah.

Todd wanders past a shelf of dog-patterned boxes, a shelf of cat-patterned boxes, and a shelf of confused holiday boxes bearing everything from American flags to St. Patrick’s Day shamrocks. He could choose about seventeen things Tina would love, starting with a chocolate Ken doll and ending with the “Love Ya!” comic sans. All of them would probably kill Dirk. Farah definitely knows all of Dirk’s nut allergies, and has compiled them into binders, while Todd is out here manslaughtering his boyfriend on the most romantic day of the year. “What if,” he says, “we swap?”

“Swap stores?” says Farah.

“No, swap people. Like, you buy something for Dirk, and I’ll buy something for Tina.”

He holds his breath. She hasn’t said no yet. He is sure she would, if they weren’t both so desperate, but they passed last resorts three hours ago and are rapidly running out the overtime clock.

“It’s not,” she says slowly, “the worst idea.”

“They don’t have to know,” says Todd. “We can even get cards.”

“Oh my god, I forgot about cards,” says Farah.

Todd waits while Farah mutters to herself on the other end. He hears her moving around, presumably towards the cards aisle, and then a sharp intake of breath and an increase of muttering. He is pretty sure the cards aisle took a good fifteen years off his own life.

“Okay,” says Farah. “Fine. Let’s swap.”

—

“Todd!” says Dirk, a few hours later. “This is perfect!”

They're at Todd's apartment, because Todd's attempt to make romantic dinner reservations fell victim to a fixed dinner menu of over $100 per person. Todd has also failed to buy flowers, since the chocolate fiasco took so long that the florist closed, and between panicking about the flowers, panicking about the restaurant, panicking about the chocolates, and panicking about his hair, for some reason, he also forgot to write a card.

It is, in other words, a disaster. And it has every sign of getting worse.

Todd attempts to lean over the sofa and see what Farah bought (and wrapped, and labelled) without making it obvious that he has no idea what it is. He got Tina a teddy bear with heart-shaped sunglasses and a bottle of wine with the most neon label he could find. He did not wrap it. Dirk gave him a solid chocolate guitar, and also some hand cream, which he hasn’t explained.

“Um, glad you like it,” Todd says.

Dirk tosses the rest of the paper aside and starts tearing at the plastic. Farah has selected a box of truffles (assorted) that promises flavors like habanero, dragonfruit, and, confusingly, “blue.” It is perfect. Todd wishes he’d thought of it. He wonders what Dirk would have thought of his best option, a box of milk chocolates with a shark. Dirk is far within his rights to break up with anyone who romances him with a shark.

The plastic quickly follows the paper, along with the lid and its labels, of course. “Mmm,” says Dirk, surveying the options. “Which one is habanero, do you think? Cover my eyes, Todd, perhaps I’ll get lucky!”

Todd doesn’t deserve to cover Dirk’s eyes. He doesn’t deserve to be within six feet of Dirk. He is a squashed milk chocolate of a human being, and he has to come clean, so Dirk can break it off now. 

“Mmph! Banana,” says Dirk, who’s given up on Todd’s indecision. “Here, you try one! Open wide!”

Todd is wallowing in too much distress to respond to Dirk’s waggling eyebrows. He opens his mouth to come clean and is rewarded with a striped yellow chocolate. It’s habanero. Of course. “Dirk,” he says, his eyes streaming and his throat burning up. “I’m sorry.”

“Yes, well, you should be,” says Dirk, crossing his arms in mock indignation. “I quite wanted to try that one. Come closer, perhaps I can taste the traces –”

“No, Dirk,” says Todd, pushing Dirk away. “Listen. I didn’t buy you anything.”

Dirk frowns at him. “Of course you did, you silly thing,” he says. “It’s right here.”

“No,” says Todd. He thinks his tongue is swelling up. “Farah bought it. I couldn’t decide. I didn’t know what to get you. I’m - I’m a terrible boyfriend.”

Todd’s eyes are watering too much to see what Dirk’s face is doing. It’s an accidental mercy. At least he saved Dirk, whose spice tolerance is zero, from this wretched fate.

“Are you saying,” Dirk says, “that you panicked in the store, and you couldn’t think of a thing to get me, so you recruited a friend to help you choose your boyfriend’s gift?”

It sounds worse to hear it in Dirk’s voice. “Sorry,” Todd says again.

“Todd,” says Dirk after a second, and then bursts out laughing.

Todd wipes his eyes. Dirk is rocking back and forth with laughter. Todd rescues Farah’s chocolates from sliding off the couch and tries to decide if this laughter is real or hysterical. “What?” he demands.

“I’m a terrible boyfriend,” says Dirk. “I called Amanda. That’s where the hand cream is from, I didn’t know about it till you pulled it out.”

“Is that,” says Todd slowly, “why it says ‘for your crusty-ass cuticles’ on the bottom?”

“Does it really?” says Dirk, choking on laughter. “I’m so sorry - I probably should have checked –”

Todd sinks back against the sofa. “I hate Valentine’s Day,” he says.

“Oh, darling, don’t say that,” says Dirk, snuggling up next to him. “Look, we’ve managed to be terrible boyfriends in the exact same way - that’s romantic, isn’t it?”

“I guess,” says Todd doubtfully.

Dirk leans his head on Todd’s shoulder. “My best option,” he confides, “was a box of chocolates with a black kitten on the front. It looked rather like Hammerhead. I was hoping I’d find a shark to go along, but apparently Safeway doesn’t consider that romantic.”

Todd plays back the sentence in his head. Then he lets out a groan. “Dirk,” he says, “I almost bought you shark chocolates.”

“You found them?” Dirk yelps. “Where? Do you think they’re still there?”

They are hopeless, Todd thinks. This is hopeless. But maybe they’re the right kind of hopeless together. He pulls Dirk closer to his side. “Let’s go tomorrow,” he says. “They’ll be on sale.”

“Excellent point, darling,” says Dirk, and kisses his cheek, and Todd thinks, maybe Valentine’s isn’t so bad, after all.

#dghda #brotzly #dirk gently #todd brotzman #dirk gently's holistic detective agency #dghda fic #my fic #my favorite disasters <3