#aboutdirkmeta

[bastardsunlight]

➜ Dirk

What sort of things does your muse keep in their pockets on any given day?

//That is.... a fantastic question to ask about Dirk. Well, there might be keys, but also funny-looking rocks, spare change, a paperclip, chewing gum packets, apple seeds, probably--and a rabbit’s foot, once. 

Send a symbol for a headcanon about my muse.

[bastardsunlight]

HC dump Dirk

Raised primarily by Black Wing, Dirk has little concept of gender dichotomy in the realm of clothing/colors/arbitrary shit like that. He wears bright colors because he likes them. It is not a statement against the social norms; he looks good in them and appreciates them. Project Icarus’s cell was not brightly colored, either, so upon escape, he immediately adopts a strong affinity for garish shades.

Dirk’s hair is naturally red. He dyed it darker because he thought he would try something new, same as anyone else.

He is incapable of growing facial hair, or hair on any part of his body, save his head. It is unclear whether this is due to experimentation or that he’s simply an elf. Mysteries abound.

Dirk uses Bert’s Bees chapstick. He is partial to pomegranate, though he’s never had a pomegranate. He thinks he would like them, probably.

He does not know his birthday, so he celebrates it on the anniversary of the day he escaped Black Wing—how he remembers this is beyond him, but he remembers it all right. He has no idea how old he is, however, but very much enjoys the concept of cake and presents. Dirk thinks everyone should enjoy cake and presence, so when Todd’s birthday rolls around, he insists upon it and, in general, Todd humors him.

His skinny body does not hide some secret strength or super power. He is simple a causality psychic with the habit of getting himself in over his head. If not for Todd and Farrah, he would likely be very, very dead. His favorite word/phrase is endoplasmic reticulum.

[bastardsunlight]

>load blackwing file: projecticarus_svladcjelli_01 Here are some thoughts about my spazzy psychic boy-o

Dirk is an absolute slut for the holidays, Christmas in particular. The morning after thanksgiving (he’s at least got the decency to wait), he pulls out all the stops and decks his apartment, top to bottom, with Christmas stuff—tinsel, lights, wreaths, a nativity scene, the works. The place smells of cinnamon, ginger, pine needles and he always gets the biggest, fullest tree he can fit (with room for the 7 angels that go at the top, one for every day of the week). He’s an early riser, so by the time anyone might show up at his place, it’s as if it was never not Christmas-y.

He has a Christmas movie marathon every year. The collection stays hidden with the decorations, until it’s time to pull them out, the Friday after thanksgiving. He bakes ginger bread (and is actually NOT awful at this), drinks eggnog and wears awful, ugly, chunky Christmas sweaters with reckless abandon. There IS a mistletoe above the doorway to his small kitchen, but it’s optional, because Dirk understands better than most what it’s like to be forced into things.

Christmas was the only time, during his captivity in Black Wing, that the tests would stop. Riggins would bring the young Svlad presents and things felt almost normal. He clung to these times, holding them in his mind to keep him going when things were at their darkest. These memories persist, of course, so the tradition has continued. Now that he has his own place and his own life, Dirk goes over the top, making sure everything is completely covered in Christmas joy (fake snow and all). Instead of a single day, now he gets a month!