intern todd

Blackwing isn’t going to care about Dirk’s chosen name.

Blackwing isn’t going to refer to him as Dirk Gently.

Blackwing is going to refer to him by Icarus. Or Svlad Cjelli. Or whatever other name they see fit.

What if Dirk starts to forget he’s even Dirk at all. What if his chosen name becomes a hopeless memory. What if in hearing Todd shout “Dirk” when he finally gets out, he momentarily forgets that is even him, because he’s only ever heard that name in dreams for the last goodness knows how many weeks, months.

What if he struggles to introduce himself again because they implanted the idea into him that he is no more than their project.


probs not very original esp for these birds but I’m WEAK for wing tatts & had to put my own spin on it!!! VOILA, half-tatt, half-soulmark because I die for that trope LMAO but if you’re not into that, just pretend they got matching ones to go with their red ink n__n



                                A DIRK GENTLY PLAYLIST

let it happen - tame impala -  international feel - todd rundgren -  taken for a ride - tally hall -best friend - foster the people - touch tone telephone - lemon demon - infinitesimal - mother mother - the blue wrath - i monster - when he died - lemon demon -  never meant to know - tally hall -goats in trees - foster the people -tessellate - alt j - swim and sleep (like a shark) - umo - fix it together - fleece - nothing that has happened so far has been anything we could control - tame impala - two weeks - grizzly bear -  daydream in blue - i monster - on my mind - fleece - constants are changing - boards of canada

farah: i need to go back to the spring estate. all my stuff is there. my clothes, my guns

dirk, eyeing todd’s clothes on farah: you look good!

TomTord Week Day 2 - Saloonatics  

- - - - - - - -

               Sheriff Thompson is a raging alcohol and everyone in this town knows it. He may claim he needs the drink to shoot, but it’s just because without it he gets the shakes. He also turns into a complete tyrant if he doesn’t get his fix, which is something few have seen and no one wants to deal with.

               “Hey barkeep!” the sheriff slurs, half slumped onto the bar. “Gimme another whiskey!”

               The bartender looks over from wiping down glasses to give him a skeptical look. “Think you’ve had enough, don’t you?”

               The arm darting out to grab him by the collar shouldn’t be surprising, but he flinches anyway. The sheriff’s visible eye is narrowed and burning a hole into his face. “Give. It. To. Me.”

               Todd sighs and reaches up, gently prying Thompson’s fingers off before adjusting his shirt. Thompson’s arm falls onto the counter and stays there, apparently no longer worth the effort of holding it up. The sheriff stares at it like it’s somehow offended him. It might be a cute sight if it weren’t so damn sad. “Think that’s enough for one night, sheriff.”

               “I! I’ll-mm-” Thompson sways a bit and belches before shoving a finger in the bartender’s face. “I’ll throw you in jail!”

               He receives a pitying look in return and a pat on the hand. “How about you get some rest and worry about the jailin’ tomorrow, okay?” he asks softly, knowing full well that’s never going to happen. Someone had to tend to the saloon, after-all.

               Thompson’s half-laying on the counter by this point, his eyes unfocused and head slowly bobbing. Todd looks around the empty saloon for a moment. It’s late, everyone else in the town is long asleep by now. Resigned to his fate, he walks around the bar and tries to hoist the sheriff off his barstool. He’s half dead weight, half drunken failing, and overall a huge pain in the ass. Todd did not sign on for this nonsense when he agreed to move to this town.

               “’m not a baby, stupid!” The childish insult is quickly followed by Thompson tripping over his own feet.

               Todd catches him easily, and wraps his arm around his waist, slinging the sheriff’s arm around his shoulder to bear his weight. “Let’s get you home.”

               Getting flopped down unceremoniously on his bed apparently causes Sheriff Thompson to put up the best glare he can muster in his drunken state, but the bartender pays him no mind, choosing instead to balance the sheriff’s hat haphazardly on an end table and tug off his boots to throw them at the foot of the bed. He’s about to walk out, eager to get himself to sleep when he’s stopped by a hand on his arm. “Why you bein’ so nice to me?” Thompson demands.

               “I’m just lookin’ out for ya, Sheriff.” Todd replies easily.

               Thompson snorts, flopping back down. “’s stupid.”

               “Rightly so,” Todd agrees, trying to walk away again only to find arms wrapped around his waist and a nose nuzzling against his spine. How the drunken man manages to move that fast will always be a mystery.

               He gets pulled down onto the bed, Thompson now nuzzling against his neck and chin, causing gooseflesh to blossom across Todd’s skin. “Stay,” the sheriff whispers.

               It’d be a lie to say the sheriff isn’t an attractive man, but Todd tries his darnedest to ignore it nonetheless. “Not sure that’d be appropriate.”

               It earns him a half-laugh and another snort. “Ain’t nothin’ I care about.”

               Heat explodes across Todd’s face when Thompson starts pressing gentle kisses to his neck and shoulders. He means to protest further but somehow ends up underneath the man on the bed. He pushes weakly at Thompson’s shoulders, trying very hard to ignore the tightness raising in his pants. The kisses are gradually turning into soft nips and licks against his exposed skin. “S-sheriff, I, uh,” he has to bit his lip to stifle a groan. “I think that’s enough.”

               Thompson’s head snaps up from his ministrations, and his visible eye is blazing again. “Why?” he grits. Before Todd can gather a coherent enough reply, the sheriff’s expression melts and his head flops down onto Todd’s chest with a muttered, “’m sorry.”

               He starts hiccups a couple of times, and Todd internally curses knowing his fate is sealed. He wraps his arms around the trembling man, awkwardly patting his shoulders. Thompson squeezes him tight and starts sobbing. The bartender sighs once more and runs his fingers through Thompson’s mussed up hair, which seems to finally calm him.

               This isn’t the strangest thing to ever happen in this bandit-ridden town, but it’s certainly out of the ordinary. Not so much carrying the sheriff home of course, just… Everything else. Sleep doesn’t come easily, but once it does he’s pretty sure it’s the most restful he’s had in a fortnight or two.

               “What the hell?” Not the nicest morning greeting, but probably well-warranted given the current situation.

               “Ah, you’re awake.”

               “The hell you doin’ in my bed?” He doesn’t necessarily sound angry, which is a blessing. Confusion can be a bit of curveball though.

               Todd looks up into what he realizes is a wide, terrified eye and speaks as gently as he can. “You wanted me to stay?”

               A blush blooms across the sheriff’s cheeks, which he tries to hide by turning around, but it doesn’t work so well once it reaches his ears. “The hell you talkin’ about? Get out’ve here!”

               Smiling softly, Todd sits up fully and leans forward to rest a chin on his hand. “Sure that’s what you want?”

               “I’ll nab you for tresspassin’ on my property!” his voice is a little shaky and he still won’t turn around.

               “No you won’t,” Todd replies confidently, not offering any argument.

               There’s a long pause. “I need a damn drink.”

               “No you don’t.” His smiles growing wider, turning into a full-on grin when Thompson finally turns around with a scowl on his face.

               “Yeah? What do I need then?” he snips.

               “You need,” Todd starts, reaching out a hand. Thompson starts at it a moment before reluctantly stepping closer. “To come back to bed.”

               The blush is still dusting his cheeks and it’s probably the cutest thing the barkeep’s ever seen. Thompson stares at him seriously for a moment before putting one knee on the mattress, then the other, eventually crawling his way up onto the bed fully. Todd eagerly wraps him up on his arms.

               “I did somethin’ stupid last night didn’t I?” Thompson finally asks, a hint of shame coloring his words.

               “Ain’t nothin’ stupider than we’re about to do anyway,” Todd grins, which earns him a dumbfounded look. He drinks it in for a moment before leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of Thompson’s mouth. “What? I wasn’t about to take advantage of you like that, sheriff. You’re sober now, though.”

               It takes a moment but soon an answering smile spreads across Sheriff Thompson’s face and he leans forward, recapturing the bartender’s lips. This was going to be a good day.



From Gaslight to Blithe Spirit, Dame Angela Lansbury’s acting career has spanned over a total of eight different decades, with her 90th birthday approaching this October 16. Whether you know her as Cabot Cove’s crime-solving murder mystery novelist, the voice behind “Bosom Buddies” or a Grammy-winning anthropomorphic singing teapot, there’s a good chance that Lansbury has touched your life at one point or another.

Lansbury took home an Honorary Academy Award in 2013, and over the years, she was received five Tony Awards, six Golden Globe Awards, an Olivier Award, eighteen Emmy Award nominations and three additional Academy Award nominations. On stage, she has dazzled audiences in Mame, Gypsy, Sweeney Todd and Dear World, and on the big screen, she has appeared in The Picture of Dorian Grey, The Manchurian Candidate and Bedknobs and Broomsticks. Her voice can be heard in the animated films The Last Unicorn, Beauty and the Beast and Anastasia, and oh, let’s not forget how she spent 12 seasons catching criminals on Murder, She Wrote.

Today marks the third annual International Angela Lansbury Appreciation Day, and it should be recognized this holiday inspired the entire CELEBRATE WOMEN project. Yes, that’s right! The sincerity surrounding a simple hashtag known as #FANSBURY made this all possible, and at this moment, we’d like to thank you all for following, reading and celebrating along with us.


Daft Punk | Electroma Soundtrack + iPhone
다프트펑크 | 일렉트로마 사운드트랙 + 아이폰

01: todd rungren - international feel
02: brian eno - in dark trees
03: curtis mayfield - billy jack
04: gregorio allegri / a sei voci - miserere mei, deus
05: sébastien tellier - universe
06: joseph haydn - string quartet in e flat major, op. 64, no. 6
07: linda perhacs - if you were my man
08: frédéric chopin - prelude in e minor, op. 2, no. 4
09: jackson c. frank - dialogue (i want to be alone)

  • what she says: im fine
  • what she means: Todd Brotzman and Dirk Gently have formed such a strong bond over the course of a few days. Though Todd seems to be attracted to Farah, it is clear his true feelings are directed towards Dirk. Even his sister, Amanda Brotzman, seems to support this theory. Though Dirk may seem happy-go-lucky at times, where Todd is more skeptical of the 'holistic' aspect of the show, it is clear they complement eachother and fit perfectly together. It is clear that Dirk feels something for Todd, but is reluctant to acknowledge it to himself for fear of upsetting both Todd and Farah, whom he seems to be attracted to. Todd himself seems to feel the same for Dirk, but due to what we call 'internalized homophobia', Todd Brotzman refuses to acknowledge his feelings, though they are there.

Electroma firmly states its mythology despite citing no date, no time and no place but by giving it’s audience coded visual cues in order to ground itself. Set out before the two outsider-heroes is a stark, sunny day in the Californian desert, quiet at first except for the rumble of the car engine . However the opening strains of Todd Rundgren’s International Feel (1973) then punctuate the air, and an accompanying panning shot out from the duo in their car mimics the establishing credits of any given film in the road movie genre of the 1970’s; 1969’s Easy Rider, Steven Spielberg’s Duel (1971) or Badlands (1973) spring to mind. International Feel is an intentional, loaded choice from Bangalter and De Homem-Christo, who hand picked the film’s soundtrack from their personal collections. The song comes from Rundgren’s ambitious album A Wizard, A True Star which perfectly encapsulates the early, cosmic vibe of the 1970’s.  It successfully plants the opening scene and therefore Electroma as a whole – as it sets the tone here after – in the realm of 1970’s Film aesthetics, drawing from the audience’s prior knowledge and ability to pull from a visual library to assign meaning to the imagery before them. Jonathan Bignell in Media Semiotics argues that,

“Cinema uses codes and conventions of representation, so that the audience actively constructs meaning by reference to codes which structure mythic meanings.” 

 By creating this universe around a carefully selected mythology, communicated to the audience via a constant stream of coded imagery, Bangalter and De Homem-Christo are then free to play with the narrative element of the film. Building upon the aforementioned aspect of outsider-hero and the imagery of their robotic alter egos, it is clear that Electroma is deeply personal to the pair, as the story is laced with tones of acquiring acceptance from society and a two-against-the-world mentality. Though stronger in it’s visual readings, the film plays upon aspects of the Society of the Spectacle as the two hero characters find themselves both existing within the spectacle, and harbouring a need for escape. In a climatic moment after rejection from the public following a masking of their robotic helmets in poorly re-created human features, Bangalter’s silver alter-ego stares at the remains of the melted mask in a gas-station bathroom mirror , trapped between two identities; his outside appearance, akin to his gold partner and the people who populate their world, and the grotesque, human face that he undeniably wishes for instead. In an interview with Stop Smiling Magazine in October 2008, Bangalter notes,

“Electroma’s story is very close to us, and the characters that we’ve built around this micro-myth.”  

Given that their alter egos – one silver robot and one gold robot – were specifically chosen as the main characters in the film, it is abundantly clear that Bangalter and De Homem-Christo have intended the story to be a reflection of their own lives, told through a manipulation of visual cues that construct their chosen mythology.

- Delusion and Myth, 2014 (my thesis for Bachelor of Fine Arts, Honours)