As of February 2025, Airman is a book without a fandom, no people to appreciate this wonderful story. I will be posting incorrect quotes, theories, thoughts, art if I can acquire any, memes, asks, and anything else related. Please help me on my quest to get this book a fan base.
Feel free to submit ideas, questions art or anything else you can think of, the only rule is that it must relate back to Airman
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From his unexpected birth in a hot air balloon to his fairytale alliance with the young Princess of the Saltee Islands, it seems fate is always smiling on him.
Then, one dark night, his life is devastated by an evil and cruel plot which removes him from everything he has ever valued. As a wicked and scheming tyrant attempts to fulfil his dictatorial dreams, Conor has his own plans. The only way to escape from his dank and miserable island prison without losing his life is by air, but can his wild ideas save him or will they prove to be his final downfall?
(I do not claim any art used on this page unless specified otherwise, all credits to original owners)
I'm adding Airman to my re-reading list immediately! I loved this book when I was a kid but have only read it once. The bits that my memory's held on to still inspire my writing to this day
Excellent!!
It is definitely a wonderful book make sure to contribute to the fandom!!
Well, this is less a head canon, more a theory (A Colfer Theory). My belief is that all of Eoin Colfer’s main stories (Airman, W.A.R.P, Artemis Fowl, Fowl Twins and Supernaturalist) are all part of the same universe. Specifically, they’re all about extraordinary members of the same family.
But I’m not saying they’re all Fowl’s, I’m saying they’re all from Angeline’s side of the family.
Spoilers for much of Eoin Colfer’s books. Go read them. They’re really good.
Oh my gosh, this is such a good theory. Like the pipeline from Conor to the Fowl family is so real. and now that you got me thinking about it, Angeline is so much like Catherine if Catherine were a bit less collected and calm. And we know that Angeline isn’t dumb by any measure, just less composed than her edgy little crime family. It makes so much sense that she’s a Broekhart. I will admit that I haven’t read. W.A.R.P. Yet but now I’m so excited too because I need to see this timeline in action.
Do you think that Nick and Victor were lovers (‘cause I do 👀)
Honestly, no I don’t. Nick was said to be deeply in love with his wife when she passed. There is a scene in the prologue where he completely zones out of the conversation after he habitually relates the topic back to her. Also I feel that as Isabella grew up he dedicated all his time to her, his experiments, and the kingdom. I doubt he ever fell in love with anyone again.
Victor on the other hand is definitely on the loose side, but he specifically states that he chose to be a bachelor as he doesn’t want to be tied down with love, but that point is definitely up to interpretation because he totally could’ve been just trying to save face since Conor is a little brat and mentioned (very spitefully might I add) that he was single at 40. but I am inclined to believe him at least partially since he seems to be the type to enjoy throwing himself into his work completely. Also, I doubt he would appreciate being tethered anywhere. Specifically relating back to King Nicholas, I don’t think he would have gone for him, Victor is kind of constantly talking about women when he’s not discussing flying machines or the art of sword fighting and dancing. (and he only talks about those things when he’s not talking about champagne) but the description of Victor‘s love life in the book is definitely a lot more flexible than Nick’s.
So to summarize, I do not agree with your headcannon since I feel that it doesn’t work unless Nicholas is entirely over his deceased wife, which I don’t think he overcomes before his own death. But I can totally see why you think that is plausible. Especially with how good their character interactions and chemistry are. 
Thank you so much for your ask!!!!
A quick note for everybody about headcannons and this blog. (since this is the first ask of this type!) I will never be upset about someone’s headcannon nor will I trash on it, but I will not lie about my opinion since there’s not much of a point in answering an optional question with a lie. The only times a headcannon will ever be trashed is if it’s completely toxic, hurtful, or disgusting. And I will only answer something that fits that description if it is a genuine problem that needs to be addressed. So please, if I don’t agree with your head cannon understand that I put genuine thought into your idea and greatly appreciate your opinion. And I will always make sure I explain my reasoning behind a disagreement. I will also explain my reasoning behind agreements or alternate ideas. If I upset anyone in someway, please private message me and we can totally work it out.
Back on the Little Saltee, Conor fell into the habit of practically attaching himself to any sort of warmth or comfort he could find. Huddling up to the little hole in the wall to savor the tiny amount of sun that occasionally break through, sometimes he would even stick a small diamond in there to collect a tiny amount of heat so he could press it to his face. Conversing with the friendliest guards he could find. Using bits of hair and string he found to patch up his clothing and blankets. Sleeping on top of his clothing so it would be warm in the morning. Even asking for some guards to tap the ends of their cigars into his hands so he could cradle the hot ashes for a moment. Filing a seashell into a comb to brush the snarls out of his hair. Once he even gave a guard one of his diamonds to heat his slop before it was delivered, unfortunately it was only slightly warm by the time it arrived in the lunatic wing, but it had still been a lovely birthday present.
But the day that had been the warmest during his entire stay on the Little Saltee, was the day he took the ink.
The Rams had a small area dedicated to their meetings and initiations in a hollowed out part of the mine that required swimming under a stone passage to access, Conor nearly inquired about the amount of oxygen in the space, but he was answered by the sight of several cracks in the rock that a slight breeze wormed through.
As he sat in a circle of a dozen of the burly men that made up the Battering Rams, Conor gently held his folded shirt, looking wearily at Otto Malarkey for any sort of reassurance The tattoo artist was an older man, but wether he was 40 or 60, Conor could not tell. The man moved with slow and intentional grace, prepping the homemade ink and sharpening the needles on a coarse stone. Conor watched this process with great interest, completely fascinated by each step. After the tattooist finished cleaning the needles with the flame of a small candle he pushed the back end into to a smoothed and polished stick. “Stay still boy.” The artist grunted around his freshly lit cigar, thick, fragrant smoke filling the little cave as he loaded the needle with ink.
Poor Conor, he really did make an excellent effort, but as the first tap against the stick forced the needle under his skin, Conor tensed his arm and flinched further into the needle. A short cry came from the boy as the sharp object jammed into the delicate muscles just beneath his skin. An uproarious, deafening laughter ripped through the cave. Malarkey slapped his knee, lighting his neighbors cigarette with his own as they watched the tattooist scold Finn. The boy wiped away the few tears that had managed to escape from his eyes, and bit his lip as he listened to the surly old man berate him, for a moment Otto was worried that Conor would back out, or worse, start crying. But he was pleasantly surprised when Connor threw back his head and barked out a laugh that undoubtedly hurt like hell when the old man yanked the needle out of his arm where it had embedded itself quite firmly. The old man prodded at the purple bruise that had quickly formed on Conor’s arm. “I thought Otto said you were a smart one” the tattooist criticized through his thick Irish accent. “Funny,” Conor said through gritted teeth as he readied his arm again. “He told me the same thing about you.”
The next several ‘taps’ of the needle went straight through to his bone.
Nearly 2 hours filled with loud conversation, crass jokes, and painful jabs from the tattooing needle went by. Despite the searing pain and near constant jokes at his expense, Conor felt relief, and an odd sense of comfort. He had found unexpected safety and kindness in the most vicious corner of the miserable place called Little Saltee. That’s not to say these sheep were in any way docile, the moment the artist was done he slapped the tattoo so hard that Conor thought he would pass out, he almost yelped, but the punch that came from the next Ram knocked the wind out of him before he could make any sound. The pain became worse as each man tried to show up the one before in the brutal final step of the initiation. for a brief moment Conor thought the Rams were trying to kill him, but when he looked to Malarkey the big man winked and slapped a handful of sand into the fresh tattoo. “Fair enough” Conor thought miserably.
 After each man had had their turn tormenting the boy, someone shoved a lit, half smoked, cigar in his hand and poured the rest of the bottle of whatever mystery alcohol they had been sharing between them onto Conor’s bloody pulp of a shoulder. He let out a sharp hiss as the liquid sterilized the wound. Malarkey threw his hand over Connor’s shoulder, getting in one last slap with the motion before he pulled the young man into his armpit “WELCOME TO THE BATTERING RAMS BROTHER!!!” he roared, causing a ground shaking chorus of hoots hollers, and cheers to sound through the cave. Conor’s blood boiled with excitement within his veins, as he raised his fist and joined in on the chaos. But in the back of his mind, he had found comfort in the presence of his brothers.
Do you think Eoin Colfer will ever make a second Air man book?
Nah, it makes pretty much no money and he clearly has forgotten about it. So I think that it will take a massive surge in popularity for him to ever care about it again.
Linus, gently playing with Sean next to the staircase: “You are a lot more pleasant than your brother, yes you are!”
Conor: Trying so hard to be quiet because he’s gotten himself tangled upside down on the banisters in his parachute after Linus told him to not open the prototype yet.
Sean: Actively watching Conor flail like a bird in a net while he chews on a wax record that Linus most certainly doesn’t know about.
After Conor’s death we know Declan absolutely broke. Everybody was worried about him, his personality was just so different after that horrible night. Really, nobody could blame him, his best friend? Gone, murdered by someone he trusted dearly, someone he chose to place in charge of his only son. The only comfort he had was that his son died a hero… it wasn’t much, but it was something.
In the years that passed Cathrine noticed a strange new habit form in her husband. Before, he had refused to disturb any of Conor’s belongings, to the point of refusing to wipe the dust off his books. But one morning while she was methodically opening all the windows in the house in preparation to sweep, she noticed that one of Conor’s model gliders had been cleaned.
This particular model of his had been very close to gliding right into the ocean after it overshot the island. Luckily for Conor and Victor, King Nicholas had been excitedly observing and dove into the icy waters the moment he suspected danger to the craft and had caught it just before it met its doom. The memory was a fond one, so close to her heart that she could barely recall that day without it breaking.
A few months later, after multiple items have been discovered cleaned and slightly moved, Catherine found that Conor’s room had been completely dusted, and many of his model gliders had been moved and placed as carefully as can be back in position. Several weeks passed, all filled with this strange new behavior from her husband. Nothing ever came of this odd habit of his where he examined his son’s things on a daily basis and attempted to put them back in place as perfectly as possible. But one day, something different happened.
Catherine could hardly contain her sobs when she found the clumsy model glider that her beloved Conor could have outdone before he could even spell his first name. It was a small, pieced together craft that had been carved out of a single block of wood and put together with shoe nails and glue. A crude replica of the first model that had been cleaned.
There were obvious marks where the knife had cut too deep and the creator had sized down the entire project as a result. Choppy, splintered corners where there should have been rounded edges. A wood stain that had been applied too thick in some areas. Small bloody specks where a mistake had been made. The amount of love and care that had so obviously poured into it was apparent as Catherine closely observed her husband’s creation with tears pricking the corners of her eyes. He had been so broken all these years. Maybe he was finally starting to piece himself back together.
Months passed and more and more of these carved models began to show up. Each one improving on the last, becoming more intricate and detailed. Declan eventually stopped hiding this new habit and soon it wasn’t uncommon for him to come home after a long day to kiss his wife while she prepared dinner then sit down at the table with a heavy sigh to read the day’s reports and records while he methodically whittled a new model. He had even started making wooden toys for the baby that was soon to arrive. Cathrine couldn’t help but grin whenever she saw the duo of birch cygnets attached to a delicate, yet sturdy, mother swan with intricately carved details.
A separate, larger swan had also been started, the shape of its neck perfectly formed to hug the other’s neck. The first three swans all had had flat, smoothed out undersides so that when they were pulled over a carpet, it seemed as if they were gliding across water. She couldn’t help but wonder if the last swan would be as intricate and cared for as the first three. She certainly hoped so.
Maybe Cathrine’s family was healing, just in time for it to start growing.
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Reasoning:
Declan was shown to be completely broken after Conor’s death. It stated several times that his personality went for a joyful, loving, compassionate father and husband. To a cold, stoic soldier who could barely be bothered to smile at his wife occasionally.
But I can’t help, but feel like news of the baby gave him some sort of new hope and closure in his life. I feel like if Conor had reappeared even one year after his ‘death’ Declan would’ve had a considerably harder time accepting the fact. He might have to come home to a dusty bedroom and a father, who was still deeply mourning his death.
While it was shown that Declan and Conor had a very good relationship, they had very few shared interests, which led to them spending more time apart since Declan couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea of flight, and Conor couldn’t get his head out of the clouds. making model gliders and airplanes might’ve been his way of attempting to reconnect with the memory of his son before his new child arrived. 
When Conor returned from university, Isabella threw a ball. It’s was not an extremely large event, but a good portion of the Great Saltee was invited, several of the Battering Rams were also welcomed at Conor‘s request. After Isabella had performed all of her pleasantries, and the band began shifting their songs, Conor asked her to dance. Catherine and Declan were absolutely overjoyed to see their son relaxing enough to ask Isabella to dance. He had always been such a gentleman, Victor had taught him well enough to be the perfect suitor to any lady of royal descent. But maybe they should’ve stopped him.
As the song became more lively, people slowed their dancing to stare at the Broekhart boy and the queen’s outlandish display. Conor was leading Isabella in a fast paced Waltz that left her skirts spinning around her ankles without a single hint of shame on his face. The queen however, was struggling to maintain eye contact between her barely hidden giggles. A flurry of excited whispers broke out amongst the ballroom. The voices ranging from extremely amused to mildly appalled, to downright mortified.
Yes, Victor Vigney, the brilliant scientist, the man with limitless charisma, master of social etiquette, notorious French womanizer… had been the one to teach Conor how to dance.
Otto Malarkey wiped a tear of admiration from his eyes as he stood next to the horrified/amused Broekhart parents. “Oh the Viennese Waltz, such a lovely dance” Linus Wynter stroked his beard thoughtfully “A Viennese Waltz you say?” He chuckled to himself, “That blasted Saltee kiss must have burned away his last drop of shame!” Declan massaged the bridge of his nose. “Our son is a debauchee Catharine!”
“Our son, Declan, is the reason Victor will never truly die”
Most people would give Conor a break that night. His social skills were obviously messed up from being on the little Saltee for so long, maybe just this once it’s fine to be such a scoundrel at a Royal Ball. After all, Conor was such a polite boy growing up, and he’s been through so much. He deserves his mistakes. But a select few people totally know that Connor is just like this. Victor was his mentor after all..
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Background and reasoning:
Back in the 1700s and 1800s the Waltz was considered obscene and inappropriate due to the proximity between partners it required. The Viennese Waltz, originating in Austria which became popular (for something so inappropriate) in France, was a whole different animal. It’s faster more complex and was wildly more inappropriate in public opinion back then. it was slightly more acceptable for young married couples to perform at a private ball. To put this in perspective, this is like that one scene in spy kids 2 where Juni asks the presidents daughter to dance, but the same level of inappropriate as if they were older teens and decided that it would be a good idea to do a Bachata style dance.
Both Conor and Isabella were taught by Victor at some point, Conor 100% asked Victor how to impress girls at least once. and before anyone says anything about Isabella. Can you genuinely say she wouldn’t have made one of her friends practice the dance with her? She was a hopeless romantic and a headstrong teenage girl, of course she was going to learn a saucy dance for the express purpose of laughing with her friends about it. Also, Otto totally loves modern trends, have you seen his hair? and he’s not a member of polite society so he doesn’t care how inappropriate something might be.
Declan and Catherine are definitely tense around Conor’s new friends, but Catherine would welcome them with open arms, regardless of her feelings.
