#not because he's shallow let me be clear dirk is a lot of things but shallow isn't one of them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

protecticarus · 3 years

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hi i love all you're prompt fills! everytime i read them they brighten my day. could you write one where dirk wakes up in the hospital in season 1 and assumes he's back in blackwing?

hi! thank you so much, it makes me very happy to hear that! i hope this one lives up to the expectation too! x

oh and happy new year everyone!

needless to say, this one’s got me back on my regular angst train. all aboard!

possible tw: anxiety/discussion of panic attacks + descriptions of physical pain

Dirk had been woken up in many unpleasant ways during the course of his life, but this throbbing in his shoulder was new. It started off as a part of his dream, Dirk’s focus suddenly directed at the pain in his shoulder right as the Queen was about to knight him as a thank you for his heroic work. Eventually the pain became strong enough to wake him and he realized it wasn’t a dream, but a very real, very painful wound.

Before Dirk even got his eyes open, he was already swearing up a storm because of the pain in his shoulder. His colorful stream of cuss words was cut off as soon as he finally got his eyes open.

He was in what seemed to be a hospital room. Only problem was, he couldn’t for the life of him remember why. Unlike the intense pain in his shoulder, the steady beeping of the machine attached to him and the smell of chemicals was very much familiar to Dirk. Waking up in the hospital wing of Blackwing was a regular occurrence during his childhood.

As soon as the familiar beeping and smell registered in Dirk’s mind, his breath hitched. Of course. It made sense. The fresh wound, the gap in his memory, the hospital room?

It was Blackwing.

He was back.

Dirk tried to think of what the last thing he remembered was, but he knew it was a wasted effort. The drugs Blackwing used on their subjects were known to wipe out memories quite far back. Dirk knew there was a chance he’d never remember how they’d managed to capture him this time, though clearly it had included an injury to his shoulder.

The only thing keeping Dirk from going into a full blown panic attack was his shoulder, which kept getting more painful the longer he was awake. The stubborn, now sharply stinging pain kept him firmly in the realm of reality, while his erratic breathing threatnened to plunge him into a hazy state of anxiety.

“Calm down.” Dirk told himself. “Stay. Calm. It’s fine. You’ve been here before. You made it through before. Everything is fine.” He chanted, almost angrily. “Oh bollocks, it’s not fine, it’s all shit.” He added finally.

Suddenly Dirk could hear footsteps outside of his room. Even though it seemed impossible, his breathing got even more shallow and fast. Whatever little quiet moment he’d had to come to terms with his recapture was clearly coming to an end. Someone was coming and it was officially back to experiments and Project Icarus for him.

Dirk willed himself not to cry. He would not give them that satisfaction. No way would he let them know just how excruciatingly heavy his heart felt right now. They would not get to know about the panic he was currently battling to keep inside.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door finally opened and a short, dark skinned older woman walked in. Dirk didn’t recognize her, but then again, it had been several years since he was last in Blackwing.

“Ah, look who’s awake!” Said the woman.

Dirk didn’t reply. Why should he extend any sort of politeness to any employee of Blackwing.

“You okay over there? You’re breathing kinda funny.” The woman said as she walked over to the machine beeping on by Dirk’s bed.

Dirk remained silent, his eyes trained on the woman’s back as she looked at the monitor.

“How are you feeling, kid? Any pain?” She asked.

Dirk’s eyes were practically watering because of the pain in his shoulder, but he knew better than to trust anyone at Blackwing to jump at the chance to allieviate his pain.

“Oh, hun, you’re in a lot of pain aren’t you? You should’ve called for me! That’s what the button’s for!” She said and pointed at the little remote laying next to Dirk in his bed. “No matter. Let’s just get some painkillers into you, mister.”

After a few minutes Dirk couldn’t help but let out a relieved sigh as the pain finally subsided a little bit. He had half expected the woman to pretend to help him instead of actually doing it.

Since Dirk’s brain was somewhat cleared of the overwhelming pain, he felt a little braver.

“How did I end up here?” Dirk asked. It didn’t matter how they’d gotten to him, not really, the result was the same miserable life as Icarus, but he was curious nonetheless.

“Oh that handsome detective drove you up! He made sure you were in good hands before quickly taking off again. Lucky you, unlucky me, if you know what I mean.” She explained and winked.

Dirk blinked a few times. He couldn’t figure out who the woman meant by ‘that handsome detective.’ What reason did anyone in Blackwing have to pretend to be a regular detective at Blackwing?

“I’m- Uh, what exactly happened to my shoulder?” Dirk asked next.

“Oh boy, you got quite a few memories knocked out of you, huh?” The woman replied. “Well, you rolled in with two whole harpoons sticking right of ya. Wasn’t pretty, let me tell you. But no worries, you’re all fixed up now! I’m not gonna lie, it’s still gonna hurt like hell, but you’ll live.”

Dirk was beginning to wonder if he was still dreaming. Harpoons? What the hell was she t- Wait. Harpoons. The bald men. The machine. Estevez. Todd. Oh God.

“I’m... I’m not in Blackwing, am I?” Dirk asked, a flicker of hope lighting in his chest.

It was the woman’s turn to look baffled. “Honey, I don’t know what that is, but you’re at a hospital in Seattle, USA. On Earth.” She replied.

“I’m in Seattle.” Dirk repeated.

“Bingo.” Said the woman.

Dirk let out a genuine laugh, which was quickly cut off by his shoulder reminding him of his current predicament.

“You were a bit confused there, weren’t ya?” Asked the woman.

Dirk sighed. “Yes, I believe I was. I apologize for my manners, I thought... Well, it doesn’t matter. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss...?” He said.

“You can call me Nichelle, honey.” She replied warmly.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Nichelle. Thank you for the drugs.” He said.

Nichelle laughed. “My pleasure, kid. Now, let’s take a look at that shoulder of yours, shall we?”

As Nurse Nichelle - of a Seattle hospital, not Blackwing - thoroughly checked Dirk’s injury and then applied fresh bandages, Dirk found himself talking through the whole procedure. It was almost like talking kept his mind off his surroundings. He knew he wasn’t in fact in Blackwing, but if he focused on the sounds, smells and pain instead of talking, it would be too easy to forget that fact.

As soon as Nichelle left the room, Dirk felt anxiety creeping back in. He hated hospitals. The sooner he could get out of this one, the better. Of course he had no idea where he would go from here, all he knew was just that he wanted out. Sure, he had the apartment at the Ridgely but if his last conversations with Todd were anything to go by, the former bellhop would not be happy see Dirk wandering the halls of his apartment building.

Later than he would have liked, yet sooner than one might expect from a patient with two harpoon wounds in the same shoulder, Dirk was discharged. Even as he was rolled out of the hospital in a wheelchair, he kept chatting incessantly. As long as he was in the hospital, he would be on edge. Clearly the chatting wasn’t as warmly welcomed by the nurse wheeling him out as it had been by Nurse Nichelle.

As the nurse left him standing outside of the hospital, Dirk could finally feel the Blackwing related anxiety dissipate. He took a deep breath and looked at his surroundings. He felt better already.

Then he remembered everything else he had to be anxious about. Where should he go? Is there anyone he could contact that wouldn’t hang up on him? He might have not been in Blackwing after all, but were they still after him? Dirk’s head was beginning to spin again.

And then Todd showed up.

For a few hours Dirk was truly happy. He had Todd back, he had Farah and he had the plans for his detective agency - and now he had the money to make it happen too! For a while, it really seemed like Dirk’s life had gone from a nightmare to a dream in the matter of hours.

This time Dirk woke up to a pounding headache. As he struggled to force his eyes open, he was met with the sound of beeping and the smell of chemicals. When he finally managed to get his eyes to cooperate, he saw another hospital room. Except this one had one significant difference to the last one. There was no Nurse Nichelle. This time there to greet him was Hugo Friedkin.

“Wakey, wakey, Project Icarus.” Said Friedkin.

Dirk let out a shaky breath. This time there was no mistaking this room for anything other than what it was.

It was Blackwing.

He was back.

if you have any ideas for fics, send me prompts! my inbox is always open! x

#protecticarus #dirk gently #fanfiction #blackwing #angst #dghda #dirk gently’s holistic detective agency #hugo friedkin #todd brotzman #farah black #fanfic #prompt fill #project blackwing #original character #hospital #fic #my fic

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melissatreglia · 4 years

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Colder than Winter (Part 2)

(Again, this is an edit of an old RP done on this day in 2017. It was written by myself, @southerndragontamer and antisilverstorm at the time. Part 1 is located here, if you haven’t had the chance to read it yet. This part also contains a battle scene: relevant warnings apply.)

With a flash and an oddly muted sizzle, Alex arrived in the one clear spot of floor in their bedroom. They’re just about to breathe a sigh of relief when they realized Grace’s hand was no longer in their own.

“Grace?” They spun on the spot, desperately searching for a sign of their friend. But they were alone in their room.

“Grace!” They tore through the apartment checking every room. No, no, this couldn’t be happening. They had concentrated so hard. They had been so certain of every detail. Why hadn’t it worked? Why? Was it just a ploy by Dark? To keep her there? He’d seemed so concerned, but maybe it was all a ruse. The attack and everything.

Maybe they just screwed up really bad.

They stood alone in their living room, pulling at their hair, their breath uneven and shallow, their heart beating furiously. The gateway! Grace had mentioned something about the gateway. Maybe she had just ended up there? Maybe they needed to go get her back from Dark.

They were going to fix this. They had to. Whatever it took.

They burst out of their apartment and took off sprinting towards where Ulysses and I still waited, as if the hounds of Hell themselves were on their heels. It was a long run, but Alex arrived at the gateway... panting, heart racing a million miles an hour, only to find just me and Ulysses, with Grace nowhere in sight.

“Grace? Grace!” Alex shouted, falling to their knees in exhaustion. Tears started to drip down their cheeks as they gasped with stuttering breaths. “Tell me she’s here! Fuck, tell me she’s here!”

I stared at them in confusion. “No. She’s supposed to be… with you…”

I exchanged a look with Ulysses. He gazed at me evenly, his expression as grim as mine probably was.

“Looks like we’re goin’ in, after all, blue boi. Let’s saddle up.”

“I don’t even know for sure she’s there.” Alex shuddered. “I don’t even know for sure she’s...” They cut off, their throat closed at just the idea. “I fucked up. I fucked up real bad.”

They climbed unsteadily to their feet, clumsily wiping tears from their eyes. “But I guess I have to go see. This was my mistake. And I,” -- they drew their knife, the weapon sliding out silently due to a coating of holy oil -- “I’m going to do whatever it takes to fix it.”

“We’re going to fix it,” I corrected them. “The Shadow Realm’s the last place you saw her, so it’s the first place we should go.”

I stepped closer to Alex, my voice becoming what I hope is a more soothing tone. “Look, Alex. You can’t go back there alone, I can’t just sit back and cool my heels while Grace may be in danger, and we need a demon guide so we don’t get lost.

“So we go together or not at all.” I sighed, feeling bad for not being as comforting as I’d like to be during this time.

But that was the problem: time. Or, more to the point, not having any.

“I can’t say the help isn’t appreciated.” Though they were speaking to me, Alex’s eyes remained fixed on the portal in front of us. “But if Dark wasn’t just being a manipulative asshole, then it’s a war zone in there right now. An I-don’t-know-how-we-survive kind of war zone. But if you’re certain...”

I turned to Ulysses. “Is the gateway ready to reopen?”

My demon companion frowned. “It should be… right abouuut… now.”

There’s a loud CRACK as the portal reopens. I nearly jumped out of my damn skin at the sound. “It didn’t make that sound last time!”

“Well, the last time, a Hellgod opened it,” Ulysses replied in a moderately annoyed tone.

“But it’ll be safe, right?”

“As safe as a trans-dimensional rip in the space-time continuum can possibly be.”

“Joy.” I offered my hand to Alex. “You ready, kiddo?”

They hesitantly took my hand, “Yeah. Let’s fucking do this thing.”

Ulysses took my other hand, and we stepped into it together.

It’s the same vertigo-inducing sensation as before, and Alex grabbed my hand tighter as up and down became vague concepts.

But they landed with their knife out in front of them, fighting back the twisting of their stomach, ready to take on otherworldly horrors. But we were greeted only by the same unending darkness.

Our eyes went to the horizon, or where the horizon should be, searching for Dark’s ostentatious manor.

---------------------------------

For a moment, Grace just stood there stunned and hurt. Alex left me? Why? Did I do something wrong? No wait, maybe the coin only worked with one person... She shook herself out of her shock and looked at Dark. And paled at the anger she saw in His now pupilless obsidian eyes, an anger that could slaughter millions. But she wasn’t afraid, at least, not for herself. Oh Alex, my friend, I’m so sorry. But you ticked off the wrong Hellgod.

Dark looked angry enough to start breathing fire as He stepped away from her. His vessel cracked and this bone chilling, earth shaking roar of anger made her stumble slightly, almost falling to her knees.

“They had one task, a task they had set for themselves. To protect you. This is unacceptable. They have failed… and for that, they will die.”

She froze. His voice reverberated in her head, static and ringing in her ears. No! I don’t want Alex to die because of a mistake! Grace took a breath, holding onto any courage she had and walked over to the enraged Hellgod. She grabbed His hand and looked Him in the eye.

“Dark, I know your angry, furious at what just happened. I am too... but I don’t think Alex left me willingly. You saw how protective they were of me till now. That isn’t something you just fake, and they were the only one with a hold on the coin. I wasn’t, I just had their hand. I wasn’t touching the coin at all. And we may have thought of different places as well. Please don’t kill them for something that isn’t their fault.”

“The coin would have taken you both, so long as you held onto each other and thought of the same place.”

He looked Grace in the eye. “I do not wish to be harsh with you, My love. But I ask you: Did I or did I not give clear instructions? And did you or did you not state exactly where it was you wanted to go?”

He took one of her hands in both of His. “My Grace, you weren’t in danger before, but you are now. You will be nothing more than prey to the other creatures of this Realm, if you stay for too long. And that… is because of Me.

“I will do everything in My power to ensure your safety. But your safety would not be in question now, had your self-appointed protector played their part.”

She nodded.

“Yes Dark, You did give clear instructions. And yes, I told Alex where I wanted us to end up. However, Alex was scared. I could feel them shaking and mortals don’t always think clearly in fear. They may have thought of a location they associated with safety as a response to their fear, instead of the location I said in case they couldn’t remember it clearly. If I know Alex as well as I think I do-and I do-They are most likely frantic right now in worry for me and on their way back here to help, if they can make a second trip.” She smiled at Him gently, chocolate brown eyes warm, setting her other hand atop their joined ones .

“My King, I was in danger the moment I revealed how I felt toward You. None of this I blame on You, Dark.” She leaned up slightly on her tiptoes and kissed Him sweetly a moment. “I trust You Dark, My King.”

Dark sighed and gently ran a hand through Grace’s hair. “I will do all I can to ensure that your trust in Me is never unwarranted.

“I will spare your friend’s life… but only because you asked.”

I’m so giving you a Gibbs-smack when you get back here, Alex, she thought, sighing softly as He stroked her hair. She smiled soft and grateful at Him.

“I believe You, My King. A seven-nation army couldn’t hold You back when Your loved ones are in danger. Now until the Calvary gets here what can I do? Can I still borrow one of Anti’s knives?”

Meg ran back into the library, bearing arms like a member of a post-apocalyptic survivalist militia. “Everybody in the house has a weapon now, Daddy.”

“Grace will need one as well, for self-defense,” Dark replied. “One hopes it will not come to that, however.”

Grace nodded, gently squeezing His arm. “I hope not either, but better safe than sorry.”

Meg rifled through the handful of blades on her person. “Hmmm. I think this one might do it.” She offered a light dirk dagger to Grace. “See how that feels in your hands, if the grip is comfy.”

“Thanks.” Grace took the dagger from her and gave it a few light swings in the air away from them, testing how it felt in her hand. She nodded. “Yeah, it's comfy. I like this one.”

“Very good.” Dark then turned to Meg. “I will need you to guard Grace. Do whatever you feel is necessary to ensure that she remains unharmed.”

Meg gave a minute nod. “Yes, sir.”

Dark pivoted on His heel and strode out the door. “Let’s go.”

Grace momentarily placed the dagger in her belt and started doing up her hair. “I need something to tie this up with, it's a battle hazard otherwise.”

Meg ripped a band of cloth from the waist area of her shirt, and stepped behind Grace to pull the woman’s hair up. “I know this isn’t much, but we don’t have a lot of time before shit hits the fan.”

Meg worked quickly, tying Grace’s hair up in a bun. “Less to grab than a ponytail,” she said, then headed for the door. “Come on, you don’t want to miss the action.”

Dark eased to the front line of the small group that was the manor’s defenders. The rumbling sound increased, and everyone’s nerves were stretched bowstring tight. Then the enemy appeared from the darkness.

It was a horde bearing down on them. The rumble they had heard earlier was, in fact, the horde’s footsteps as they surged forward.

Dark glanced over to Anti, and nodded. Anti gave a nod in return, and it was clear that more had been shared between the two males than a simple glance.

Dark’s little patchwork group of defenders met the oncoming horde head-on, the sounds of the clash between the two sides ranging from angry roars to shrill screams, to the clank of metal on metal or the slick wet sound of rending flesh.

Meg was at Grace’s side, a whirling mass of knives impaling anything that threatened to get too near.

Grace reacted as one mook got close to her other side but, doing her best to use her plus-size weight to her advantage, she slashed sideways. Black blood spurted from the wound she’d made in the demon’s torso and she could faintly see organs of some sort among it. Grace could feel the shock of what she just did but tried to block it from her mind. Do NOT panic, Grace! This is a VERY BAD time to panic!

She managed to dodge a demon that leapt at her. Meg helpfully sliced its throat open and it fell dead. The demoness whirled the blade around in her hand and stabbed at another’s eye. Fear-driven sweat dripped on Grace’s face. Meg was clearly the better fighter, but Grace was also doing her best simply to stay alive.

Dark could be seen amid the tightest clutch of the horde, sweeping away His opponents with the deadly precision of a buzzsaw. At least, that’s what I saw when we got there.

I wrenched the sawed-off shotgun from my back and loaded it with rock salt rounds, ready to fire.

“Looks like we’re fashionably late to the party, guys,” I pitched my voice over the raging battle, so Ulysses and Alex could hear me. “I’ll give you cover fire, you kick ‘em in the ass!”

When I fired the first round, I heard Grace shout, “Took y’all long enough!” I found myself chuckling, in spite of the seriousness of the situation.

Alex dove into the fray, with only one goal in mind: making it to Grace. But they never quite got there.

They knew where to aim, back and neck, under the arm close to the ribcage, kidneys to wound, back of the knee to incapacitate. But the non-human physiology of our enemies complicated matters, and the battle was pure hell. Bloody, close quarters, across a flat ground soaked in blood, and beginning to pile up with guts and corpses.

I was far enough away that I didn’t have to worry about being in the thick of it. But I was far luckier than my friends, in that regard. I didn’t give the demons a chance to get too close to me, either, loading and firing rock salt rounds as fast as I could.

I didn’t see what took Alex down. I don’t think they did either. A nasty set of claws, definitely, as Alex was wounded by a slash all down their back from shoulder to hip.

“Get Alex outta there!” I shouted at Ulysses, as Alex went down.

Bless the boy. Because the second the coast was clear, he draped Alex in a fireman’s carry, taking our half-conscious friend far enough away from the battle.

I stepped back a few steps further and hunkered down protectively beside Alex, reloading and continuing to fire rock salt at the demons who were busy trying to kill Dark’s crew.

Dark Himself was still kicking some serious ass out there, moving in a deadly ballet as if He were Neo in the Matrix. Showoff. For a split second, I was tempted to fire a round at Him too, purely out of spite. But I quickly realised just how dumb that would be. Better the devil you know, after all.

“Alex, you gotta stay with me,” I said to my friend, not entirely sure they can hear me. But I couldn’t let them pass out from the shock and pain. That would be all kinds of bad at the moment. “You gotta pull yourself out of it. You can’t sleep until this is over, then you can sleep all you need to. Okay?”

Alex mumbled something in response about a witch king and demons not being as cool as oliphants. It didn’t make a whole ton of sense, but at least it let me know Alex was alive -- albeit not all there at the moment.

I heard Grace scream for Alex, before something jumped on her, clamping down against her calf. Grace’s scream turned to one of pain, and Ulysses dove back in to retrieve her. She stabbed blindly at the creature trying to gnaw at her, and I got a shot off at the creature’s body. But it was Meg who made the killing blow, sliding her blade under the creature’s jaw and forcing it to let go of our friend, before slicing open the creature’s throat.

Meg’s eyes were black with fury as she shoved the dead demon-thing away, helping Grace up and handing her over to Ulysses. “Alex. I gotta make sure they’re okay,” Grace said, in between pants. Ulysses obliged, pulling her out of the fight and over towards me.

“Hey, Miss Melissa, thanks for looking after us,” Grace said, clearly exhausted, and smiled weakly at me. She crawled over to Alex’s side. “Hey gardener, don’t die on me. I still have to smack you for not listening. Got it?”

Alex mumbled, “No. Not gardener… Rohan. And captain? Guardian? The citadel. It doesn’t fall, right? We win. Don’t want to miss the coronation.”

I heard Grace laugh in relief. Apparently, if Alex could make Lord of the Rings references, then maybe it wasn’t that bad, after all. “Alex, I’m not going anywhere,” Grace said. “It’s okay.”

A sudden ripple passed through me. Not a shiver of cold, or of fear, but of forethought.

Dark’s True Form. I can see it. Or the closest approximation my human mind can comprehend. It hasn’t happened yet. But it will soon.

He’s about to drop His vessel.

I immediately laid my shotgun on the ground and shielded the eyes of my wounded friends. “Guys, you don’t want to see this. Trust me.”

Grace jumped at my sudden movement, but obediently shut her eyes. She gently squeezed Alex’s hand. “Shut them, Merry. This won’t be pretty.”

“No, no, I’m not going to sleep. I can’t, Grace… I don’t want to go.” Alex’s mumbles were frantic.

On the battlefield, with a sizable amount of their enemies still present, Dark knew He couldn’t keep this up while still bound to His vessel.

He had heard Grace’s cry of pain, and that only fueled the fire in Him now. He stepped back as quickly as He could to a relatively untouched spot. Oily smoke shot from His vessel’s mouth then, as the body dropped lifelessly to the floor, the smoke coalesces.

His True Form emerged, talons splayed and wings bent but still beating in this supernatural darkness. His many eyes glared with undisguised fury, and His roar both pierced the air and made what passed for ground here tremble.

I heard Alex’s shriek of fear and pain.

The remaining demons taste fear for the first time as they looked upon this Leviathan, absorbed the inherent wrongness of it. A thing that even these demons do not fully understand. A thing that should not exist in this, or any, world.

But it does. By the gods, it does. And if any were merciful, they might spare a few lives to carry the tale of what had happened. But there is only one god present to hear their prayers and pleading… and He is not inclined to be merciful tonight.

He tore through the ranks of the horde without hesitation, His strength no longer bound by the limitations of human flesh.

He can also hear the thoughts of those around Him, the fear of both friends and enemies… and relief from one person. Dark, you’re alright. Good. Give these intruders no mercy, My King.

Dark heard that thought and snarled in pleasure at it. He continued to mow the pitiful demons down, until the only survivors were the ones who fought on His side for this evening.

The damage done, His bloodlust sated, He returned to His restrictive but familiar vessel. The empty body is once again the container for His essence, and the filter for Him to communicate with lesser beings.

Though He had not considered Grace a lower being for some time now. She is the exception that proves the rule.

He sat up, cracked His neck and shifted the joints from their atrophied state, then stood. Smoothing down His jacket once again, He made His way over to the small clutch of humans and demons.

I reluctantly got out of His way as He lifted Grace into His arms, bridal style, being careful of her wounded leg. Neither of us were willing nor able to let her go, but for different reasons.

“D-Dark don’t!,” Grace protested. “I-I’m heavy and You’re probably tired from the fight.”

“Nonsense,” I heard Dark say to Grace. “You are a feather, dearest.”

I rolled my eyes. Boy, He’s really laying it on thick, isn’t He?

“The term, ‘feather light’ isn’t something usually directed at me. For obvious reasons,” Grace said, clearing her throat. It was obvious she was trying to wipe away some familiar negative thoughts, even as she spoke. But she relented, laying her head on His shoulder.

Meg looked up at her father. “We have to get them out of here. This is no place for a couple of injured humans.”

Dark nodded. “Agreed. Let us proceed to the gateway.”

“Grace,” Alex murmured. “Don’t trust him. He’s a bad man, Grace. A bad, bad man. Melissa. Tell her. He’s a bad man. Shifty, missing shadow motherfucker. I don’t like him.”

Alex’s nervous mutterings pulled me out of my introspective state. “Alex,” I told them softly, close to their ear so no one else can eavesdrop. “It’s okay. I’ll handle it.”

“‘s not okay,” Alex slurred, trying desperately to stay awake. “She trusts him. Can’t…can’t do that. Grace. Melissa. You gotta watch her. She’s gone, I can’t. Wasn’t good enough. It’s empty, just like it always is.” But the fight is eventually gone from them, as the pain of their wounds becomes too much. “Damned nasty-ass spider.”

“Shh. Alex. You can rest now. You’re off-duty and I’m on the job.” I continued to whisper gentle and calming words to them. “It will turn out alright. I’ve got this.” I then turned to Ulysses. “Do you have enough energy to carry Alex through the gateway?”

Ulysses nodded. “I’ll manage.”

Grace looked at at Meg from her position in Dark’s arms. “Thanks for backing me up. You were a badass.”

Meg smiled and gave a slight nod, but otherwise said nothing.

The way through the portal was no different than the previous trip through it, and we arrived back at the meeting place we had all started.

“Ulysses, Dark. If you’d set them both down, gently.” I then turned to Meg. My eyes narrowed at her, because I remember how she treated me too. “You do exactly as I say. I want them both patched up.”

I walked over to the car, and open the boot. Rifling among the other objects in there, I pulled out a first aid kit. “We just need them stable enough to get them transported to a hospital. Meg and Ulysses, you both have special demon-y senses; you can see what I can’t. So it’s up to you two.”

Meg glared at me, obviously not liking having a human order her around. She turned to Dark and He gave her an encouraging nod. She sighed and squatted down and, between her and Ulysses, the cleaning and bandaging of wounds began.

Grace winced after playing with her glasses, and taking them off revealed that the skin on the bridge of her nose was raw. Another to add to the list of wounds and abrasions to patch up, and her hand came away with a little dot of blood.

But apparently that was enough for her. She began to shiver from delayed panic, face going waxy and pale. “Oh God what did I just do?! I-I killed-” She swallowed hard. “I-I killed demons! Holy shit!” She clung to Dark fiercely, as if He were her lifeline. “Don’t-Don’t let me go, Dark, My King, My Hades.” She began to ramble a little. “I’m sorry I got hurt, but Alex is my friend! I-I couldn’t leave them! I’m sorry. Don’t be mad at Meg, please! It wasn’t her fault.”

Alex had passed out… and perhaps that was for the best. The poor dear had been delirious from the pain.

Dark shushed Grace. “It’s quite alright, My love. I won’t leave you. Not now. Not ever.”

Yeah, about that... I definitely have a few reservations.

With a saccharine sweetness, I told Dark, “I hate to break up this lovely Kodak moment, but I’d like to talk to You, Dark. Alone.”

Panic returned for Grace. “No! Please don’t, please don’t. Don’t-Don’t leave me Dark! You promised!”

“Hush, love. It will only be for a moment. I’ll come back. I promise.”

“Yeah, I’m just borrowing your boyfriend for a few minutes,” I added.

She seemed to latch onto that, finding a little comfort, and the panic subsided. She nodded shakily, and finally released her grip on Him.

The shotgun felt heavier than usual in my hands as Dark and I walked far enough away where we wouldn’t be heard.

“Seems like Grace has gotten really attached to You,” I said to him. “Is it mutual?”

“Unequivocally.”

“Good, then You’ll understand this.” I fired a round of rock salt at Him, hitting Him in the kneecap.

He hissed in pain, doubling over, then gave a short and breathless laugh. “If that was for our last meeting, you stated your case clearly enough.” He straightened up. “You know rock salt can’t kill Me.”

“Oh, I know. But it sure stings like a bitch, doesn’t it?”

“Perhaps then, you’d care to explain why you shot Me?”

“It’s like this, Big Guy,” I finally told Him. “You hurt Grace or anyone else I care about, physically or psychologically, I’ll pump You so full of rock salt, You’ll be crappin’ Margaritas for a month. We clear?”

“I understand completely.”

“Good. You can go on then. Your girlfriend’s waiting.”

We returned to see a calmer Grace chatting with Meg about her injuries, watching as she and Ulysses worked. “How bad are they? Be honest.”

“Not great, but not that bad, either,” the demoness replied. “And you’ll probably be on crutches for awhile.”

“Will I lose it you think? I know the damned thing tore into it like a dog with a toy.” Grace winced. “And it hurts. A lot.”

“As long as we get you to a hospital, you’ll be fine,” Ulysses said. “You should both be fine.”

She breathed another sigh of relief. She turned then, perking up as she saw Dark and myself returning. Grace smiled at us, despite the pain.

“With what I just overheard, I believe we need to get you both medical attention.” Dark bent down and picked her up again. Once more Grace clung to Him. “Meg, you will carry Alex, and do be gentle with them. Wouldn’t want to waste your hard work now, would we?”

Meg nodded once and set Alex over her shoulder in a fireman's carry. Dark looked down at the woman in His arms.

“Now hold onto Me, dearest Grace. This may not be pleasant.” She nodded and shut her eyes... then the two demons start to move very quickly, away from me. Almost like they were in a really fast car with the windows down, but Grace was already half passed-out.

I sighed and began to pack away my first aid kit and the weapons into the car. This was definitely one for the books.

---------------------------------

When Grace came to, she was in the hospital. It was a familiar feeling, though not quite in the same context. Her leg was tightly bandaged and slightly elevated. She could hear a heart monitor beeping, but it wasn’t hers. It was from the bed beside her own.

Sitting up, she looked over and saw Alex in the other bed. Grace teared up at the sight of her friend. They looked a little pale, bandages all over their chest and stomach but were still breathing evenly. She looked at the heart monitor attached to them and was relieved that it didn’t waver.

She whispered so as not to wake them. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Alex. You really had me worried there. And I hope you’re ready to get smacked upside the head when you’re better, for not listening to me earlier. Then I’ll hug the stuffing out of you for coming back for me, despite the danger.” She laughed softly and laid back in the bed.

What a night this was, I dined with the Devil, in his own home nonetheless! I met His kids and they like me so far. And I got my first kiss. Then as if that wasn’t enough, I fought and killed demons! Oh I know no one will believe this. But maybe my new scar will help with that.

She turned over as best she could.

Alex was right. I shouldn’t trust Him. He’s a master manipulator, a seducer. He psychologically tortures people, for Pete’s sake! But I do trust Him because, despite that. He’s honorable in His own way, honest, loyal, funny, kind and caring to those He protects. It’s stupid, and probably insane, but I trust Him.

And… this isn’t a schoolgirl’s crush. I think… I think I’m a little in love with Him. Heaven help me.

Deciding to try and get sleep, she whispered, “Good night, Alex. Sleep well. Hope you feel better come morning.”

Her eyes flicked to a dark corner of the room. She wasn’t sure if He was actually there or if she was dreaming it, but she decided it didn’t really matter. Maybe He’d hear her anyway. “Good night, Dark.”

Grace fell asleep with a soft smile on her face.

#markiplier fanfiction #darkiplier fanfiction #darkiplier #dark x grace #christmas theme #holiday fic #from an old rp #december 2017 #throwback #fan fiction #my collaborations #author insert #tw: violence #tw: gore #tw: injury

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july-angel · 5 years

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Gamzee redemption arc and Dirk; The dickfuck that was given to female character plot lines (Part two to Candy > Meat)

This actually doesn’t have as much to do with the first post, but it is about something important that I brought up in it that needs it’s own post.

Gamzee’s redemption arc is well handled, or badly handled depending on how you want to look at it. Gamzee, made very clear by the end of Candy, doesn’t fucking deserve to be redeemed. However, it’s not because you simply cannot be forgiven for the bad things you do, but it is because, Gamzee hasn’t actually done anything to deserve forgiveness. You see, Gamzee brings up his past and talks about how he never had a chance to become a better person. However, while it is a reason, it is not an excuse. Hussie I think is making fun of fans who excuse terrible people’s actions based on some sad past or hard ship. It’s not that those things cannot be causes, but forgiveness must be earned. Gamzee simply resumes being a terrible shitty person. He’s irresponsible and only uses people for his own gain. Hell, he builds this whole religious platform off of handing out forgiveness to people without real proof that they do anything to change.

That’s where Dirk comes in. I cannot say what Andrew Hussie is going to do. However, I hope that Dirk gets the chance to be forgiven, but not because of some tragic past or mental illness, but because he works to earn his forgiveness. I hope he makes the necessary change to become a better person. I hope he work to try to undo the damage that he’s done and that he seeks to be different.

I think people who look at the Gamzee stuff are looking at it wrong. Okay, yeah, maybe he is saying fuck Gamzee stans, but he’s saying fuck Gamzee stans who forgive his terrible actions without expecting him to be any better.

So I’m going to move on to talk about things I fucking hated about this epilogue: - low-key, it has a much more shallow view of it’s female characters. I think that as a whole, their female characters were either given a back seat, or not given as much opportunity to delve into the psyche as the male characters. The only exception was maybe Terezi.

- Characters who got less attention: Rose, Kanaya. Rose and kanaya didn’t really get as much depth, and it’s hard to say much more, because we just didn’t get that much of it, beyond two scenes. One where Rose is thanking John for the route he took that allowed Rose to be happy with Kanaya. And the other where Dirk is literally mind fucking Kanaya into convincing her that Rose doesn’t love her. Dick.

-Characters who got a lot less development than I saw potential for: Jade, Jane. I have so much to say, but I want to keep this one brief to hammer in the point. Jade is a very lonely person, one of the lonelier people arguably and she has honestly and actually been strung along by Dave a lot. That’s not fair. But they only briefly touch upon it, I mean, it really only comes up in reference to Davekat and how it affects that ship. And then there’s really nothing else to her, except to be a shell to Calliope. That’s not fair. My girl deserves more. On to Jane. I mean shit. I know that she loves capitalism and shit, but they literally hint to us that she’s not an evil person. We just never get to see it. See, being a xenophobe, doesn’t necessarily make her the shittiest worst monster of this universe. And What I mean by that, is, it’s referenced multiple times in Candy that she is capable of being better. She leaves the wedding alone, she doesn’t interfere when John visits Roxy and his son, and she let’s Tavros and Jake out when they want out. Now those are just things that you should do in my mind, but every time one of those things happen, John is literally scared that Jane will try to fuck up these things. And she just doesn’t and she’s said to not be evil, just a person making just horrific decisions. However, it’s never actually really dug into and I think that’s really sad. We never get to actually see her as a real fleshed out character. And I think the biggest assassination of her character was during he dad’s death. Her emotions during the death of her father are ham handled and I think a lot of potential was trampled upon, simply because we never really get to be with her in her head. They use it as a plot point to get from point a to b. She’s not a good character, but neither is Dirk and we still get to see into his head so much, he’s literally the narrator in one of the epilogues.

- Roxy and Calliope are both non-binary characters, but I feel like we also don’t get as much insight into their heads as well. But I don’t even know where to start there. I mean Calliope is just gone for most of this. Like why? And i get that roxy isn’t even supposed to be real in Candy, and also is supposed to be completely elusive to dirk so... But still there’s something fucked up about it and I hope we get more of them.

- Sollux and Aradia??????? WHAT WAS THAT?????? I MEAN WHAT? I? What???? I wanted more of them, I’m greedy I know, but like still. That was a sad amount of both of them. And they seem like they are just watching some light TV watching their friends get fucked over.

-Jake getting molested by Jane into a whole relationship had me blech.

- John not talking to his dad one last time.

Anyways those are all the brain cells I have right now. So, Maybe i’ll go back and edit this, maybe I won’t I’m kind of trash

#homestuck #epilogue #dirk #discourse #kanaya #rose #roxy #jade #jane #calliope #spoilers

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chasesthelight · 7 years

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crawl out through the fallout [1/5]

[AO3] [Fallout: New Vegas AU, 4,431 words, slow build Dirk/Todd]

“Dude, that’s not how it works.”

“What do you mean?” His smile drops off slightly and his eyebrows furrow together.

“Your case is me, right? I can’t help you solve my own murder. That’s just not how it works.”

PART 1: AIN’T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD?

The air is warm and surprisingly still. The last bits of colour have long since drained from the sky, leaving only a dark blue void above. It’s an evening in late October, and five men are standing in a graveyard. As morbid as it sounds, this marks the end of a journey, a long journey spanning almost the entire west coast, a lot of money, and a lot of dead people along the way. It was the end of this quest, but also the beginning of something greater. It’s a evening in late October and five men gather in a graveyard not to pay their respects, but to bury a man. To them, it was the end of an era and to their credit, it was. What happened that night would change everything, but fate deals the cards as she chooses. What happened that night would change everything, but not necessarily in the way they intended.

“You got what you were after, so pay up.”

“You're crying in the rain, pally.”

The first thing Todd notices when he wakes up is the god awful ache in his neck. The second thing Todd notices when he wakes up is that his hands are bound. His immediate reaction is to start yelling, but he realises someone’s taped duct tape over his mouth while he was unconscious. Any cries for help fizzle out before they can ever leave his mouth. Even with blurry vision, he can make out three figures standing in front of him. Two of them are in typical raider gear, but the guy in the middle is wearing a fur coat. Really he used the term ‘fur coat’ loosely as it was so big the guy looked like he might get swallowed up in a sea of white fur. There was a lit cigarette between his fingers, and he was furiously whispering to one of the goons. None of them have noticed that he’s woken up yet. Todd kept tugging on the rope restraints on his wrists, trying to see if there was any give to them, if he could break them or slip out of them.

“Guess who's waking up over here?”

He tenses up almost immediately, his next breath lodging somewhere in his throat. He slowly looks up at the three men, trying to make his movements as small as possible. The man in the fur coat took a hit from the cigarette before dropping it into the dirt, extinguishing the embers with the sole of his shoe. “Time to cash out.”

Todd thinks it was somewhere around that moment that he realized the gravity of the situation he was in. Most likely because this was when his brain started yelling at him Oh my god you’re gonna die, these guys are gonna kill you, you’re gonna die, you’re gonna die. He kept struggling with the restraints, this time with intensifying urgency.

“Would you get it over with?”

“Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face, but I ain't a fink, dig?”

The man in the fur coat takes a step closer to Todd who freezes again. The two make eye contact and the man slips a hand into his coat. He pulls out a poker chip, painted an unusual platinum colour. It glints softly, illuminating the embossed details of a roulette wheel on the face of the chip. Shit, he has the platinum chip. Todd makes a desperate attempt to try and grab it despite the aforementioned bound hands but his legs are too weak and refuse to move when he asks them to. All he manages to do is just kick up dust, irritating the back of his nose. Just great, Todd. You’ve already been kidnapped, tied up, got the sole item you were meant to deliver stolen and now face certain death, and now also you can’t sneeze because you’ve got duct tape over your mouth you goddamn idiot.

“You've made your last delivery kid.” The man in the fur coat has an accent that Todd can’t place on anywhere that he’s been before. He’s certainly not from around this part of the wasteland, maybe from the east coast. He places the platinum chip back into his coat (Todd contines to kick himself mentally for losing it) but his hand stays there, searching for something else. Please don’t be a gun please don’t be a gun please don’t be a gun.

“Sorry you got twisted up in this scene.” He draws a 9mm pistol out from the coat, metal gleaming in the lantern light. Shit. Of course he has a gun, his brain continues to berate him, how else did you think they were gonna kill you? Despite that the man in the fur coat was apologizing, there wasn’t a hint of sincerity. He sounded more like he was apologizing to a sick animal before he put it out of its misery. The two raider goons seem to shift around when he pulled out the gun, whether due to anticipation or uneasiness, Todd wasn’t sure. He tries one last attempt to get out of the restraints and make a run for it but to no avail. It appeared that the universe wasn’t going to let him get out of this one.

He was always aware that he was gonna die. Not in the way that he consciously knew his own mortality and that everyone dies at some point. Todd knew that his death would go something along the lines of this. He was never gonna die just of old age, having lived a complete and fulfilled life. He would bleed out after losing an arm or a leg in a fight with a deathclaw, he would mouth off to a Legion soldier or NCR ranger at the wrong time, he would step too close to a trip mine he never saw on the road. He would have his delivery stolen, his job ruined, and his corpse left in a shallow grave. Despite the fact he had no control over his own inevitable demise, he hoped that the final moments of his life would be memorable. Rewarding, even. He glanced up, past the man and his raider goons, out towards the horizon. He could make out a cluster of neon lights in the distance, a halo of light pollution against the night sky. The New Vegas Strip glowing in all its glory, an eternal testament of a world saved from nuclear fire. He had never visited the Strip, but the sight of it filled him with a warm glowing nostalgia. The knowledge that it had lasted this long and continued to last, even if he wasn’t, was oddly comforting in this turn of disconcerting events. Todd thought of his sister, and hoped that she would forgive him for this.

The man in the fur coat points the pistol at him, aiming directly for Todd’s forehead.

“Truth is… the game was rigged from the start.”

The next thing he remembers is light, white light. His ears are ringing, the reverb echoing back and forth. He’s not really sure of much aside from that there’s something solid underneath him. He blinks once, blinks again, but his eyes won’t focus on anything. Light just keeps pouring in with no form or shape and it hurts like this is the first time he’s opened his eyes. He closes his eyes, trying to shake off the ringing. When his vision finally manages to clear, he’s staring up at a dingy ceiling with a fan softly whirring. Now that the blurriness and the buzzing was gone, he becomes acutely aware of the excruciating headache right at the front of his head. Kind of felt like he had been shot in the head. Hang on…

“Well, you’re awake. How about that.”

Todd turns around, trying to find the source of the voice, but in doing so his vision just blurs again and the headache flares up. A hand grabs his shoulder, centers him upright. The world aligns itself again to reveal a man sitting in a rickety chair in front of him. His hair is white and balding, the creases in his features a testament to the number of years he’s seen. Todd thinks of his parents, how close they might be in age to this man. The thought strikes a solitary chord in his chest, a old feeling he buried so long ago he’s forgotten the name of it. He decides to ignore it for now and focus on the physical, the mattress creaking under his weight, the scratchy dryness in the back of his throat.

“Woah, easy there kid. You’ve been out cold a couple of days now. Just focus on getting your bearings.”

The room they’re in is a decent size but relatively empty. The cot that Todd is sitting on is shoved up in the very corner, right next to a dusty window filtering in sunlight. Behind the old man, he can see a surgical table with some tools left on it. He can only assume that he was lying on that table recently, walking the thin line between life and whatever comes next.

“Let’s see what the damage is. How about your name? Can you tell me your name?”

The question startled him from his thoughts, so much that it took a few seconds of panic for him to remember. “It’s, uh, Todd. Todd Brotzman.”

“Huh. Can’t say that’s what I would have picked for you. But if that’s your name, that’s your name.” The old man leans back in his chair. “I’m Doc Mitchell. Welcome to Goodsprings.”

Goodsprings. Todd was familiar with the name, a small town just north of the Mojave Express head office. He had visited it a few times before on small deliveries but never stuck around for long. At least whoever those guys were who shot him didn’t dump him in the middle of nowhere.

“Now I hope you don’t mind, but I had to go rooting around there in your noggin to pull all the bits of lead out. I take pride in my needlework, but you’d better tell me if I left anything out of place.” Doc Mitchell reaches under his chair and grabs a small hand mirror, passing it over to Todd. He had been mentally preparing for his bit, but in all honesty he didn’t know what to expect when he saw his reflection. His hair, previously unruly and curled at the ends, has been hacked back severely so that he can see the damage in full unobscured view. Just off the center of his forehead, two small puckered round wounds. Small ridges indicate there was a couple stitches there but the skin was still inflamed, an angry raw pink colour. No matter what he could tell himself, Todd can’t deny how obvious they are, or the bile rising in his throat. Bullet wounds never healed, not really. He would always have these two scars on his forehead, a testament to what had happened that night. It would never be let down, that Todd Brotzman took two bullets to the head and lived. It seemed that he was tougher to kill than he thought.

He silently passes the mirror back to Mitchell. He doesn’t mention the wounds or where his hair went or how tired he looked. Mitchell seemed to pick up on the uneasiness, mumbling an offhanded comment about getting stuff that mattered right as he stood up from his chair.

“Okay. No sense in keeping you in bed anymore. Let’s see if we can get you on your feet.” Just as Todd was about to sink back in the mattress, Mitchell reached out to grab both of his hands. Todd let out a heavy breath but slowly pulled himself up off the cot onto his feet. His knees started to buckle and legs almost gave out when he loosened his grip on Mitchell, slipping forward quickly and uneasily but he stopped himself before he met the floor. Apparently in the handful of days he was bedridden, he had forgotten how to use his legs. Although that’s probably just a result of the bullets to the brain. He feels like his head’s been scrambled, put through a blender on the highest speed possible. He focuses on getting his balance and tenatively takes a step forward. He takes another, and another, until he’s no longer holding on to Mitchell and his legs aren’t completely numb. He stretches his arms out above his head, hearing his back pop. The mattress certainly wasn’t the most uncomfortable thing he’s ever slept on, but it wasn’t the nicest ever. Todd turns his head around to notice a folded set of clothes on the edge of the mattress, and his worn out leather boots sitting neatly by the foot of the cot.

“Those clothes are for you, so the locals don’t get annoyed at you for lacking modesty. Figured they were about your size too. Feel free to get dressed, then come find me, I’ll see you out.” Doc Mitchell walks out of the room, leaving Todd on his own. He quickly looks through the clothes he was given; just a thin flannel shirt and dark slacks. They were practically a perfect fit for him, oddly enough. Mitchell had mentioned he guessed the size but Todd could have mistaken these for his own clothes if they weren’t such good condition. He chalks it up to a coincidence, quickly shoves on his shoes, and wanders out of the room into a hallway. Mitchell was standing at the left end of the hallway in front of the door, carrying something in his hands. “Here. These are yours. Was all you had on you when you were brought in.” As Todd approaches him, Doc Mitchell holds out a knapsack made from worn canvas and a cowboy hat. Ah, he hadn’t lost his hat. That was nice. He was rather attached to his hat. He takes both the knapsack and the hat and immediately puts the hat on, tilting down slightly to cover the wounds on his forehead. He quickly scans through the sack’s contents; a handful of bottle caps in a plastic bag, a couple of stimpaks, a revolver, some ammo and a note. Todd checks the chamber of the revolver (empty) before pocketing it with some of the ammo and putting on the knapsack. “I hope you don’t mind but I gave the note a look. Thought it might help me find a next of kin, but it was just something about a platinum chip.”

Todd freezes up. The platinum chip. Whoever those guys were, they had stolen the platinum chip off him, the platinum chip he was meant to deliver to the Strip. He would have gotten 250 caps, one of the biggest payments he would have received in months. 250 caps was enough to repair his decaying revolver or get enough food to last him for a month. Decent food as well, not just brahmin meat that tasted like leather when cooked. Shit, he could even have bought good alcohol. Instead, here he was. No money, no delivery, nowhere to go.

“Well, if you’re headed back out there, you ought to have this.” Mitchell picked up some kind of metal gauntlet contraption off the shelf next to them, holding it out towards him. “They call it a Pip-Boy. I grew up in one of them vaults they made before the war. We all got one. Ain’t much use to me now, but you might want such a thing, after what you’ve been through. I know what it’s like, having something taken from you.” A pang of guilt shoots through Todd from the sheer sincerity in Mitchell’s tone. He had never met the man before, but Mitchell was still helping him, giving him clothes and a goddamn Pip-Boy as if saving his life wasn’t enough. The Pip-Boy was much lighter than he anticipated and fit snugly onto his forearm. The display glows dimly, struggling to life after years of disuse.

“I reckon some of the fellas at the saloon might be able to help you out. And the metal fella, Victor, who pulled you outta your grave.”

Todd clears his throat, struggling to convey his thoughts while staring at the Pip-Boy on his arm. “Thanks, Doc. You know, for patching me up, and all the extra stuff. You really didn’t have to do all this so uh, thanks, really.”

Doc Mitchell gives him a half smile. “It’s what I’m here for. Anyway, if you ever get hurt out there, you come right back. I’ll fix you up. But try not to get killed anymore.”

Todd smiles for a split second at the quip. “Wasn’t planning on it,” he mumbles under his breath before he pushes the door open and steps outside.

It’s immediately bright, brighter than he was expecting, and his eyes take a few seconds to adjust. Goodsprings is just as tiny and quiet as he remembers it. A couple of run down houses, the general store and saloon in the middle, surrounded by hills on all sides. Just a sleepy town where nothing unusual ever happened.

He had taken a few steps down off the veranda when he realised his major problem. He didn’t know what to do now. He wasn’t really expecting to still be alive after what happened that night and he had very little leads on where to go from here. Mitchell had mentioned checking the saloon and a robot who apparently pulled him out of his grave (he was trying to ignore that one for now), but Todd still had other questions. He didn’t even know why the platinum chip was so important, why those guys were after it, why they were perfectly willing to kill him for it. His employers certainly hadn’t mentioned that it was important or anything, it was supposed to be just another ordinary delivery. Certainly no mentions of impending death. He had joked about it before, but Todd had never actually thought one of his jobs would get him killed.

His feet start to move of their own accord across the town center, past the general store and saloon and paddocks of roaming bighorners. He vaguely knew the path he was taking, straight up a small hill with a barbed wire fence surrounding the summit. If he wasn’t already sweating under the morning Mojave sun, he was by the time he reached the top. Stuck to the fence was a rusted sign with peeling paint that had clearly seen better days. Goodsprings Cemetary, circa 1890.

He wasn’t sure what specifically had brought him here, to the place where he had died. He was currently standing in front of his grave, the shallow hole they dug out before executing him. The events from that night kept playing in his head, the same 2 minutes on repeat over and over always ending in the same words. The game was rigged from the start.

Todd didn’t believe in fate, not really. Fate, in any case, usually came from the barrel of a gun. Still he felt like there was some reason he had been brought back here, as if the universe was trying to tell him something. He didn’t believe in fate, but it seemed that there were bigger things planned for him still. And yet, as he stood there by his grave, for a second he felt like climbing back in.

It was the light tap on his shoulder that scares him out of his thoughts. He wildly spins around, swinging his arm in case it finds purchase on anything. It did collide with something but before he can figure out what it is, he’s stumbled backwards and fallen into the hole also known as his grave. The impact knocks all the air from his lungs and sends him into a coughing fit. The sun ends up right in his eyes and momentarily blinds him. Todd tries to get back up on his feet, acutely aware that someone else was coughing too.

“What the hell, man?”

There was a man standing in front of him. Tall and lanky, neat hair, currently cradling the side of his face (presumbly where Todd had hit him). He was wearing a blue Vault-issued jumpsuit, although the top half was unbuttoned and tied around his waist. Instead, he also had an a dress shirt, patterned tie, and a leather jacket in an obnoxious shade of mustard yellow. He was staring at Todd with a degree of hurt behind his bright blue eyes. Everything about him was peculiar.

“What, no, you what the hell? Were you spying on me?”

“I wasn’t spying on you.”

“Then why are you up here?”

“Why are you up here?”

The other man visibly stiffens up, and Todd folds his arms across his chest, giving a pointed look.

“I’m… investigating. Investigating a very top secret and serious case.”

Todd raises an eyebrow. He recognizes this guy is trying to bluff his way out of the situation and doing a terrible job.

“A case, huh?” He muses, stepping up out of the grave. “So what are you, like a detective of some kind?”

“A holistic detective, actually.” The man says, smiling. His accent is strange, nothing like Todd’s ever heard before. He wondered if it had something to do with the Vault jumpsuit he was wearing. “However, I’m not the important one in this situation.” He walks over to Todd so they’re toe to toe, making Todd consciously aware of how much shorter he is compared to this guy.

“Uh, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to figure out what role you play in this story.” He’s studying Todd’s face with a unsettling intensity. “Have you seen anything strange lately, or been at the center of any strange events? Like you knew exactly where your life was going until suddenly it’s been thrown completely off course?”

“Uh…” Todd is lowkey beginning to panic at this point, cautiously trying to take a step back in case he needs to make a run for it. Thankfully, the man has seemingly found his answer and moves out of his personal space.

“Like I said before, I’m a detective. I’m on a case.” He’s smiling again, almost beaming. “A couple days ago, there was a murder here. In the middle of the night. The body was found in the morning with no evidence of the killers.”

Oh god. Of course. Of course, of course, of course this guy is investigating the murder, his murder. Todd has to bite down on his tongue to stop himself from blurting out something dumb and regretting it.

“And now you’re here, alone, at the scene of the crime. See, it’s all very suspicious. But you are definitely involved in this, I know it.” His face lights up and he gasps, like he’s had an epiphany. “Perhaps you were the one who found the body. Do you know where the body is?”

Todd lets out a heavy sigh and nudges up the brim of his hat, revealing the two wounds on his forehead. The expression on the man’s face morphs from a smug delight to slowly dawning realisation over a couple of seconds.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

They’re both silent.

“Hang on, if you’re… if you got.... then shouldn’t you be….”

“Dead?”

“Yes.”

Todd sighs again. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

Silence again. “So how are you, you know… not dead?”

“Apparently a robot dug me out of my grave and the town doctor patched me up.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” The man sounds rather meek, trying to verbally tiptoe around the topic. Todd looks down at his feet, kicking the dirt around into the air.

“Look, don’t apologize, okay. It’s not your fault that this happened. I was just up here, I’m not even really sure why. It just felt right, like the universe was telling me to.” When he looks up again, the man is standing next to him, in the middle of wrapping an arm around his shoulder. He gives Todd a faint smile.

“Well, good news, I figured out what your role is.”

“What?”

The man jumps around in front of him, smile even wider. “You are officially my assistant.”

It takes a couple seconds for Todd to process this, but when he does it elicits a tch noise from him. “Dude, that’s not how it works.”

“What do you mean?” His smile drops off slightly and his eyebrows furrow together.

“Your case is me, right? I can’t help you solve my own murder. That’s just not how it works.”

“True. However, you are still alive. Therefore, you are a perfectly viable candidate for assistant. As well as the only candidate.”

Todd shakes his head, toeing the dirt. A lot of weird shit had happened the last few days but this guy, he was easily the weirdest thing.

“Still, that’s not the point.” The man steps in closer to Todd, just barely, but enough for Todd’s breath to get caught in his throat. “Once I take on a case, I’m intrinsically connected to it. Everything in the universe is interconnected, one thing always leads to another. I will eventually solve it by studying the patterns between causes and effects... and also just kind of doing whatever.”

“That just sounds like you’re an incredibly lazy detective.”

“Everything is connected. The clues will come together and eventually, the case will be solved.” He places a hand hesitantly on Todd’s shoulder. “I will solve it.” The man repeats at a lower octave, an affirmation between both of them. Todd chews on his bottom lip and slowly nods once.

“I’m Todd.”

“Dirk Gently. It's lovely to make your acquaintance.” The man who was now known as Dirk beamed at him and Todd did his best to half ass a smile back.

“So then, do you have any leads?”

Dirk’s smile falters. “Oh. No. I don’t.”

Of course. Todd lets out a half sigh and weaves his way around Dirk, heading back down the hill.

“Where are you going?” Dirk calls out.

“I’m gonna go talk to that robot. Figure out where those guys who shot me went.” He yells back, not stopping or turning his head to see where the other man is.

“Great plan, Todd! You’re being an excellent assistant so far.” He can hear scrambling footsteps behind him, presumably Dirk trying to catch up with him.

“I’m not your assistant!” He calls back, thinly veiling an annoyed huff. This delivery was going to be longer than he anticipated.

#dghda #dghdafic #dghda fic #brotzly #also i don't know how tags work #post apoc desert road trip shenanigans: the fic #it'll get more shippy later on i promise #ej fics

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