#the call of knighthood; headcanon

[confiteorims]

Notes on the new AU:

The setting is the typical fairytale type kingdom: castle, village, idyllic farmlands, creepy mysterious forest older than the kingdom that people typically try to avoid being stuck in after nightfall.

Turns out the forest is kind of a "gateway" to the faerie realm and when the sun sets the fae come out in force. People who stay in the woods after the sun sets have a high chance of never being seen again, leading to stories of the fae stealing people away. Just ignore that sometimes when people go missing there's a new boulder or strangely shaped tree or bush along the only road through the forest. Totally just a coincidence, really.

E'mrys was abandoned as a baby deep in the woods but the fae upon finding him decided to take him in since they have a soft spot for children. Due to growing up in the faerie realm and all the magic there, he's now essentially agelessly immortal.

Often going out in excursions to the mortal realm while disguised in a cloak and mask, E'mrys has become a bit of a folk legend among the kingdom as the "Faerie Knight". With stories being spread around throughout the years warning young and foolish people, and would-be heroes, to not remain in the forest once the sun begins to set. Or else they risk being stolen away by the Faerie Knight to be given to the King of the Fae as tribute.

Personally, E'mrys has never really bothered with that, instead choosing to just watch whoever is brave or foolish enough to risk the woods. Until one day his eyes are caught by a certain prince.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Symphony 🎻 | Rhaenyra Targaryen Headcanon

GOT/HOTD Masterlist

note: I wrote this because I want to be part of Rhaenyra's symphony 😩😉

Rhaenyra falling in love with a musician would look like:

The first time the Crown Princess laid on eyes on you was during her name day celebration. The king had called upon the finest performers, artists, dancers, and jesters in Westeros for the eighteenth birthday of the Kingdom's heir. You were part of a traveling music group, where you played the violin and were the lead vocalist. 

Immediately drawn to your captivating presence, Rhaenyra barely paid attention to the others in your group, and when the rest of the performers were brought on stage, her thoughts lingered with you and zoned out the rest of the celebration. Searching the grounds the moment the final performance ended to try and get another glimpse of you. When she finally did, Rhaenyra swore she'd never seen anything as beautiful as you before in her life. 

"Princess!" You abruptly stood from your chair upon realization the young lady was behind you, too emersed in the conversation with your friends until one of them cleared their throat with wide eyes and pointed over your shoulder. "My apologies I did not realize you were there." "Please, do not apologies, I should've announced myself. I was wondering if you'd be interested in talking a walk with me. I'd like to hear more about your music and travels of the country."

For an hour you strolled through the area reserved for the performers and vendors. Tents and stands on every corner. At one point you stopped to see the small animal enclosure with baby goats and cows. Rhaenyra learned you were from the Riverlands, and your family were nomadic. Traveling all over Westeros, from Dorne to Winterfell, at the request of lords and ladies to perform. The most recent journey before coming to King's Landing was High Garden to celebrate the knighthood of Lord Tyrell's son.

There was an evident spark between you two. You felt it. Rhaenyra felt it. The warmth in your chest spread each time you made eye contact, her cheeks flushed when you complimented her. She hung onto every word you spoke, and in return you observed her body language. When someone interrupted, there was visible annoyance where she pretty much pleaded with whoever to leave with her eyes, and dismissed them with a, "Yes of course, tell my father I'll only be a moment."

When the celebration came to an end and it was time for the dinner, the princess asked you to join her table. Of course you were surprised, and a little nervous, "My Princess, my thanks to you for the generous off, but I fear that would be inappropriate. I am employed by your father, not a guest." "Nonsense, you are my guest. I've said it--and it is my name day after all so it shall be upheld. Join me so we can continue our conversation." How could you say no after that?

When the day rolled to the next, you and your group were set to leave after breaking your fast, but as you loaded the carriage a guard rushed with a note and informed you the Princess had requested your group to remain in King's Landing and be the permanent performers for when the Royal family hosted banquets, balls, and tourneys with the promise of payment, lodging, and all the benefits employees of the Red Keep get. 

Yeah, you all accepted that without a second thought. 

To say you didn't miss traveling would be a lie, but you enjoyed living in the Red Keep. You were given food, clothes, money, and a section of the lower levels for your friends to live. The Princess called on you regularly, to play your violin or sing ballads while she either admired you from beside or read her books. Soon you two fell into a routine. Progressing as the weeks go by to moments where you broke fast together, strolled the gardens, accompanied her on trips around the kingdoms. 

Each time you performed, Rhaenyra sat as close as she could to the stage. Staring in awe as your fingers and bow moved graciously across the violin, your beautiful voice so enchanting it'd make the Seven fall in love, echoing against the walls. Eyes full of love, finding each other's with smiles painting your face. 

Unfortunately a union between you would never be approved. Not by the court, the country, or her father--no matter how happy you made Rhaenyra. She was the Crown Princess, the heir to the Iron Throne. It was expected of her to marry a nobleman, bear children, and take her place as Queen. You'd have to remain in the shadows. A secret to the people.

Of course, rumors spread of the tales between the Princess and her close companion. Most of them diminished upon Rhaenyra's marriage to Ser Laenor---which the three of you had come to an agreement that the two would uphold their image to the Court, but in secret Rhaenyra's heart laid with you--but even then, whispers echoed the halls.

She's sneak to your quarters in the middle of the night to hear you play when she had trouble sleeping. You gifted her favorite sweets whenever you went into the city. When she felt the threat of the Greens growing as her father's conditioned worsened, you joined Rhaenyra at Dragonstone. By then your musical group had decided to part ways, many stating they wanted to return to their homes and raise their families.  

Over the course of your relationship with Rhaenyra, you wrote many songs of her and your life together. She'd become your muse, the inspiration for your works. Sometimes you'd sing them for an audience, but there few reserved only for her ears. 

So when the decades passed and you two were lost to the Dance of Dragons, the songs of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and her violinist lived on. Passing from generation to generation like the songs of the Conqueror and eventually Jenny of Oldstones. People live and die, but music is immortal. And you had immortalized the beauty and love of Rhaenyra through your art. Making her part of a symphony. 

[paradife-loft]

welp, I continue to learn about the world and the people in it by means of violence and murder 😢

Knight Artorias continues to be one of my absolute favorite boss fights

"victim of the Abyss" is the sexiest description one can read on a soul in this entire game by far

decided midway through fighting him that I wanted to go for a no-healing kill, mostly to prolong the experience and see if I could, and: success!! I can and did!

[vanillablankcanvas]

Part 2 Trolls Headcanons/ Theories/ Thoughts/ Ideas

Part1 Part3 Part4 Part5 Part6 Part7 Part8 Part9 Part10

Trolls - letting another troll touch your hair is a very huge sign of trust.

All the brothers definitely hold doors open for the ladies and then close it on John Dory.

Clay - receives special recognition alongside Viva for protecting the Putt Putt Trolls. (Knighthood? Trollstopia's official CFO?)

Clay - has a stupidly complicated coffee order

Clay - plans to move the Hole N Fun between Pop Village and Bergen Town. Imagine the business!

Bruce - absolutely gets into the trashiest reality TV shows. "If Alejandro doesn't confess his love in this episode I will flip this table"

Bruce - makes Troll cuisine for his kids

Bruce - there aren't any Troll sized clothing stores around so Bruce sometimes has to make his own clothes.

Bruce - has considered getting his kids hug time bracelets

Viva - does not knock on doors and absolutely will walk straight in when someone is changing clothes

Viva - snorts when she laughs too hard

John Dory - freaky level spice tolerance, looks people in their teary eyes as he bites a raw ghost pepper

John Dory - says "Gotta get home to the missus" when referring to Rhonda

John Dory - narrates himself "Against all odds, the brave and handsome Troll was able to tame the ferocious beast" he says as he's washing a purring Rhonda

John Dory - the Uncle that buys Bruce's kids toys that are either loud or that make a huge mess

John Dory - didn't finish school, made sure his brothers did

Floyd - absolutely judges you for your star sign

Floyd - knows exactly how to pop away that pain is someones back/shoulder/hips. Grabs JDs shoulder "Relax John. After three. One...two.." CRACK

Floyd - moves back to Pop Village for what JD calls 'early retirement' works in a sort of wellness center that has music therapy and yoga and stuff.

[batrogers]

If you want the short version of "Which Link's pay their taxes?", here's my LU headcanons going off the excessively long post here:

Sky = He's telling people what taxes to pay because he's helping Zelda build the city on the surface and in Hylia's name, he's got way more sympathy for Gaepora now that he's had to deal with it himself.

Four = He's enjoying immensely that his grandpa handles it for him, and he has NO intention of seriously dealing with it himself if he can ever avoid it. (He has indeed been sat down and taught how, and he is fond of insisting that he is *fourteen*, you are NOT dying, stop making me do this--)

Time = Zelda gave him lands as a gift for his military service and the whole knighthood thing, but she was sensible enough to give him lands that manage themselves, so he only "owns" Lon Lon Ranch. Talon incessantly teases him about this fact that technically he owes him tax, not Zelda, and Time groans every time it comes up. (Talon just pays the Castle directly still.) Malon, when she's especially annoyed at the cows or horses on any given day, will tell him that *his* livestock are acting up, but otherwise politely does not remind him.

Wind = Tetra has never paid a harbour duty tax she could avoid, but she HAS been caught and narrowly escaped several times. There's a few ports they can't legally visit anymore because of this, and Wind finds it hysterical. (I imagine the rest of the Chain is not looking forward to bailing him out of jail if they wind up in one of those cities.)

Twilight = As a resident of Ordon village, he's not really responsible for his own taxes because they're paid by the village as a whole. Mayor Bo handles it, and he hasn't legally established himself in anyone ELSE'S census so he's free of worrying about it. Mayor Bo does bug him for money once in a while, but overall it doesn't come up.

Warriors = He's a conscript who's not really asked if its legal for him to not be a soldier anymore, but hey! He's only paying some taxes which he likes because taxes pay for his food and lodging. He's vaguely complained about it a few times and rapidly realized the others have no idea what he's talking about, so he sticks to the simple stuff: he's a Captain now! He only pays a few nominal taxes. Better than the rest deal with, right?

Legend = His uncle and grandfather both are still around and so he's safe from having to pay his own taxes for a while, although they live elsewhere. That doesn't matter, though, because as a knight's son as long as they claim they're covering him the royal family doesn't much care what he does. Ravio has definitely stated this is fantastic, and Legend has been treated to some exhausting stories about the process to rebuild Lorule. He's holding out hope his uncle lives a very long time so he's not going to be stuck dealing with it himself, thank you VERY much.

Hyrule = He's living in Castletown and working with his Zeldas at this point, so he's paying whatever's normal taxes for the city. He's a nice enough kid he probably pays other people's taxes too, and does his best to keep up with things so his Zeldas have the best chance of rebuilding possible. Definitely ducks out of any labour calls though, so he doesn't draw monsters nearby and they all know why not.

Wild = He's paying Hateno taxes like everyone else, although I imagine he's had a few extended debates with the mayor about what's the most useful thing to pay in. The mayor sometimes has a hard time processing the fact there's options, nevermind what the options ARE. Zelda would mostly like him to stop trying to plant durian in the yard.

[visarcana]

What do we know about... Cesario (Chezario)

For those who keep up with the fic; last we were somewhere around the country of Cesario (otherwise known as Chezario, which is closer to how it’s pronounced in the original). Let’s scour the artbooks and all for info about this Gaean country!

Previously in the WDWK series: Basram, Egzardia

Canon information

1. Cesario is the country that asks Van to lead their decimated vanguard to “boost the troop morale.”

The situation is, Van comes back after retrieving Hitomi (episode 24), and lands at a Cesarian military camp, in an unspecified area close(r) to the Zaibach border. The soldiers say they were humiliated as they were overwhelmed by Zaibach’s military might. The state of the camp is pitiful with many dead and many destroyed melefs. 

By the way, there are Cesario troops and leviships in Palas at the same time, so the defeated camp is definitely not all of the country’s army.

Next time we see Van, the main Alliance army is arrived but he is still with this Cesario force and separate from Allen and the others, so it seems there was a bit of camaraderie present at that point if they stayed together instead of Van joining the Asturians as usual.

The filmbook has a note saying they “value knighthood” and “take it upon themselves to spearhead the attack against Zaibach”. From this, I sort of always had a headcanon that people would know and like Van in Cesario. Like, if they like honor and chivalry, and they appreciate the young boy and his legendary guymelef enough to ask him to lead them, you just sort of know they have a fondness for a story like that and see magic in it.

2. The design of the soldiers/guymelefs

The design of the Cesarian characters looks like medieval European knights, I would even go as far as to say, actual Crusaders (not to be confused with the Crusade crew).

The settei gives us, as usual, an image of an ordinary soldier and of a general, plus the general’s name. This time, it’s Ferme (Ferume) or its variations. Easter egg, Escaflowne Compendium had a mention of “Vermeer” in the code on the subpage about characters (it was something that was not visible on the website itself), I believe it could be one of the many possible transcriptions of this guy’s name from Japanese (I don’t think there is a source for that or any other romanization though and that’s probably the reason why it was hidden from view).

By the way, the names of these generals are pretty solidly confirmed; I have found three artbook sources for them already although they are never used in the series and the whole role of the alliance generals is practically to order their troops to turn on each other. Here is the Ferme guy calling for Cesario to “use the chance to rise to lead Gaea,” please note the color scheme looks a bit different in episode 26 (pale blue instead of dark).

Anyway, back to the design. The chainmail, the cross-quartered overshirt... where does it lead? I think the answer is pretty clear this time...

First of all, it has to be said Crusades are WAY older stuff than what I found before, showing the inspiration for the designs of soldiers of Basram or Egzardia that seems to be the 17th-19th century Europe, which is coincidentally also the level of development of Gaea according to the official materials. Crusades are hundreds of years before that! Plus, there were several of them, spanning centuries.

So, finding a drawing of a Crusader that would be authentic, non-fictional, and from the same period, is way harder. Many of the illustrations from which we form the image of a crusader come from later period, especially around the romantism movement in 19th century. And these representations, especially the most common image of templars, fit our Cesarians quite well. 

With the way their head gear is constructed, I think the reference may have been some encyclopaedia depiction of knights templar. These are some of the closest examples I could find (obviously, the variation is too great and probably also was with the real people).

But just out of curiosity I took a look:at the contemporary art (14th/15th century and older), it seems way harder to detect that typical image of the crusader with that huge cross across his chest, but yeah, you can obviously often see the motif of a cross and the chain mail.

And these two are prominent even in the design of our Cesarians. The same shape is visible even on their guymelefs (title picture), and yep, on their flag.

4. The flag/coat of arms

The cross on Cesarians seems to match the design of their flag, and to me, it looks nothing more like than the sword handle/crossguard. 

This time again, we don’t have the official Sunrise image for ants but we have plenty sources of how it should look in color so I spent 3000 hours in MS Paint and there you go.

Anyway, the sword hilt would obviously match it being such a heroic and militaristic country, although it’s quite simple imagery, I like the decorative detail put in there. Any other ideas?

5. Cesario is a neighboring country to Asturia and possibly to Zaibach

I repeat myself once again, this is because we know Asturia formed an alliance with its neighboring countries (episode 23) and Cesario came to their help. But actually, this is also confirmed in the text of the Roman Artbook. 

It also strongly looks like they may share a border also with Zaibach, although the filmbooks just say they are in the vanguard in the attack against them. That was my idea without looking at the books anyway since they are attacked by them in that camp and once the main force arrives to the same place and then they practically fight to invade Zaibach already! 

There is a bit of a mystery of Zaibach general Adelphos, too, who is impatiently waiting for the orders to attack “the alliance filth” that he believes can be easily defeated. After this scene, we are shown Allen and the alliance main force still in Asturia, so it seems Adelphos could have meant these Cesarians? 

So, from all this, it would seem to me the main forces of Zaibach and the Alliance have gathered on the border between Cesario and Zaibach although it does not say explicitly that in the canon.

And what did I do with this for the fic? Well, we currently (as of chapter 16) find ourselves in Cesario. For a quick recap, Van escaped Fanelia with Hitomi, and, followed by a Zaibach squad headed out north. They got as far as Cesarian forests, where they were reunited with Crusade who had visited Fanelia shortly after their escape and started searching for them. And here is where they come across the Cesarian elite squad. 

I just sketched those characters vaguely in my head but I wanted to make them, you know, elite knights who are admirable for their strength but also kind of scary, especially to a POV character like Hitomi. Van leaves with them on their leviship that is also a pride of Cesarian army. Anyway, this elite force is also present in the questioning of the prisoners from chapter 16, again, I’m not too explicit due to POVs used, but obviously, when Van arrived to the camp up north with them, they planned their actions together and they will continue to be together for a while. 

We’ll see how much detail I’ll include about these guys in the next few chapters. Regarding Cesario itself, I imagine a pretty big country. Because I imagine Zaibach (including conquested land) as even bigger and if these guys are able to hold the candle to them, they probably aren’t little or weak either. Since we are coming up north, I imagined a lot of forests but also increasingly mountains. I also made them more technologically advanced than the medieval designs suggest; simply because they are close to Zaibach and these things tend to spill over the borders, unless you are a really isolated country. And if you’re waging a war against such an advanced enemy, technological progress becomes a matter of your survival. So yeah, after few years, these guys will not be so easily wiped out as they describe in the episode 25 scene.

The scene showed in the anime shows bare stone landscape that looks similar to what we see of Zaibach, but I decided it is just that particular area. Alliance is trying to make a breach from a different point, and the sceneries will be much different there. Bit of it was already revealed through Hitomi’s eyes when they make a stop in the Cesarian city. Allen rides to send a message to his king (I was not explicit but this is what he did there) and Crusade is refueling a bit. Hitomi makes some observations of the land and the city. 

Another bit is the camp and the mountainous border that we explore from both sides in chapter 16. I imagine pretty bleak (but beautiful) mountains and snow plains. Similar to the background of this blog, actually, one of the reasons I picked it! By the way, we will spend some more time here, so I will use Cesario as a playground some more!

[coolclaytony]

Random headcanons for Sinner's human lives:

Sir Pentious served in the British army and after an off-the-cuff act of heroism that made him (and the army, by extention) look super competent to the public, was given a fast-track promotion to general and a knighthood from the queen. But a critical tactical error on his part resulted in his first major campaign ending in horrible disaster, to such a degree that he was discharged and imprisoned. His fame vanished practically overnight and the whole ordeal has been a critical blow to his self-esteem ever since.

He died when his first deathray prototype backfired and set his zeppelin on fire whilst he was attempting to vaporize the parliament building.

Husker was a draft dodger and had a habit of letting himself into "whites only" bars and gambling dens, practically daring the proprietors to make him leave.

He had a bad habit of hitting the bottle whenever he was sad and there weren't any good magic shows to distract himself with. He died of alcohol poisoning during a particularly bad episode of binge drinking.

Niffty has had multiple boyfriends and every man she ever tried to love either left her because they couldn't handle her personality, or she murdered them for one terrible slight or another.

Her last lover gunned her down when she caught him with another woman and she tried to stab them.

Vox died when a he punched through a television screen in frustration and accidentally electrocuted himself.

Valentino lived his life much as he does in his afterlife. He was poisoned by one of his prostitutes, who put mothballs in his wine.

Velvette used her social media influnce to defame one of her critics and have her fans harrass them, resulting in their suicide.

She died of an undiagnosed food allergy. OH! Better idea, she died of Covid because she refused to wear a mask and made the especially stupid desicion to participate in an online event called "No Wash (Hands) November" while also attending a massive fashion show.

[fragaria-imagines]

For the pregnancy headcanons you could make headcanons for Merold, hallrit and tuxam when their s/o (who is in bed rest because she feel sick) call for them and reader just hugg and snuggle on him...but she take their hand and put in her belly to feel the baby kick for first time

Merold

Merold is usually known for his cheekiness and laid back attitude, he tries not to take anything too seriously, and often likes to poke at and tease people.

But when he gets the call that you were sick and bedridden, he immediately drops everything that he was doing, and tends to your needs.

It was the first time that you ever saw Merold look so serious, it was also the first time that he was doting over you so relentlessly, it was quite interesting to say the least.

Though he doesn’t always show it, he truly does care for you and the baby, and would go above and beyond to make sure that you and the baby are safe and healthy.

And while you appreciate his relentless doting, you weren’t really in the mood to rest, and would rather take this opportunity to snuggle and cuddle with him.

It took a bit convincing on your end to get Merold to relax and let loose, but once you did, he was out like a light once his head hit the pillow.

His nap was short lived, however, because as soon as he closed his eyes, you shook him until he was wide awake.

He looked at you, still half-asleep and groggily, wondering why exactly were you waking him up for?

You didn’t answer his question, instead you placed his hand on top of your stomach. He raised his eyebrows at you, wondering where you were going with this.

But before he could say anything, he felt a hard kick against his hand, you let out a gasp at the feeling of the kick.

You both stared at each other, too stunned to even speak, not expecting the baby to finally kick. Once you both regained your voices, both of you blurted out at the same time:

“Did you hear it?!”

“Heard it? I felt it!”

After the initial shock wore off, you two bursted into laughter, overwhelmed with joy that your baby was finally kicking and moving.

“They’re such a strong kicker!”

“Well of course they are! They have me as their dad after all, seems like the “strongest knight” genes are already kicking in!”

You rolled your eyes as Merold unashamedly boasted about himself, but you couldn’t help a smile from forming, as you thought of your future life with Merold and your baby.

It was scary not knowing what the future holds, but you two had each other, and that in itself makes all the scary stuff worth it.

Hallritt

New to knighthood and being new parenthood? Someone cut this poor man some slack, because it’s one thing after another.

First the seeds attack the kingdom, then he was told he wasn’t a good enough knight, and now he founds out that you’re sick? Safe to say, it’s not a good day for Hallritt.

But even with so much trial and errors that were happening, Hallritt has never been the type to give up! He would go above and beyond to ensure your and the baby’s safety, healthiness, and happiness, as well as the kingdom’s.

And even though, it may look like he did a pretty awful job at ensuring both goals, that won’t deter him from being a helping hand.

While he doesn’t like that you got sick, Hallritt is someone who likes to live in the present and think about the now. What happened in the past can’t be changed, so there’s no use in feeling upset about it.

So that’s why he does his best to make up for his incompetence and lack of attentiveness, by being there for you and taking care of you while you are sick.

Cooking, cleaning, whatever it is that you want, he would do it for you in a heartbeat. And while his eagerness to please you is very admirable and you greatly appreciate it, you draw the line when it comes to Hallritt cooking.

Not wanting to be subjected to Hallritt’s cooking for fear of food poisoning, or god forbid, he burns the house down, you politely but urgently suggested that he should take a break from his caregiver duties, and instead cuddle with you in the bed.

Hallritt shot you a toothy grin, completely oblivious that you’re more scared of his cooking than the actual sickness that you were facing, and made his way to the bed, but not before pulling a Hello Kitty mask from his pockets, and putting it on.

You raised your eyebrows at the notion, since when did he have that?

Noticing your stare, Hallritt answered in defense:

“Well I’m not trying to get sick too, you know!”

“You know I’m not contiguous, right?”

“Yeah….for now”

Grunting in disbelief, you playfully hit him with one of your pillows in faux annoyance, he of course, dodged it, before settling next to you on the bed.

The playful loud banter started to settle, until there was only comfortable silence between the two of you. You didn’t mind, even though you two were both extroverts, the times where you both just sat down and sit in silence, were one of your favorite moments. It was never awkward or stifling, but rather the opposite, peaceful and comfortable.

The silence was quickly shattered, as you groaned in pain at the sudden feeling of a sharp movement. Hallritt, immediately sat up straight at the sound of your groans, his initial happy go lucky attitude from before was replaced with a look of seriousness that you have never seen before.

“Y/N are you alright? Are you hurt? What happened?”

You could feel the sense of urgency in his voice, every word that he left his mouth was filled with so much concern and so much worry.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, it’s just that…the baby kicked…”

It was like the words that you just said were not registering at all with Hallritt, for he looked utterly dumbfounded, the serious expression that he had left as fast as it came.

“Baby…?”

And then it dawned on him.

Baby.

Your baby. His baby.

Kicked.

“Wait the baby kicked!!”

You rolled your eyes at him, wondering how did he ever pass his knight exam, but nevertheless, you took his hands and placed it on top of your belly, so he can feel it himself.

The baby kicked again, and this time he felt it, and he couldn’t have been any more happier.

Tuxam

Being the gentleman he is, Tuxam immediately went into auto-pilot mode and took drastic measures to ensure that you and the baby were healthy and safe!

From checking in with you every 10-15 minutes, bubble wrapping the house to make sure you didn’t fall, making you soup, and covering you with fifteen layers of warm blankets, it was a lot to say the least.

Tuxam’s nagging and Mama Bear tendencies aside, he truly does care about you and the baby, and would be devastated if something were to ever happen to you two.

There’s a part of him that feels partially responsible and guilty for not being attentive enough, that you ended up getting sick because of his carelessness.

And while logically, Tuxam knows that’s not the case, and that you can do everything right in the book and still get sick, he couldn’t help but feel responsible for it anyways.

After all, what kind of gentleman was he, if he’s not there to protect the person that matters the most to him?

Before he could indulge in any more self-deprecating thoughts, he felt your hand on his shoulder.

And though, Tuxam puts on a brave face and acts like everything is fine and dandy, you know him better than the facade he puts on. You know how much he beats himself over the most littlest things, and it breaks your heart every time.

“Tuxam, why don’t you come back to bed with me?”

Knowing Tuxam would never say no to you, he reluctantly obliged to your request, but he still felt that there was still so much work to be done. However, all of his worries and concerns seemed to disappear the minute his body hit the mattress, snuggling your sides, and burying his face at the crook of your neck, like he was a small child.

You giggled at the sight of him, it wasn’t everyday that he let loose and act so childlike, it was refreshing to see. You grabbed the palm of his hand, gently placing it in on top of your swollen belly, wanting to bathe in this gentle moment with your soon to be child.

Tuxam smiled at you, before he leaned over and gave a big kiss on your stomach. He felt a large kick against his lips, as he did so. Pulling back from your stomach, he stared at you in utter shock and confusion, and your expression was the same.

The wheels in his head slowly start to turn, as he realized what had just happened… the baby kicked him! The baby kicked! The baby moved!!

“Oh my god, the baby kicked!”

You snickered at his late reaction, before adding on:

“Well it does appear that way!”

But Tuxam was not listening to you, going on a long tangent about how he couldn’t believe it, and how excited he was, and how your baby would be the most healthiest and best baby ever to grace the Noir Continent.

Once he finally came down from his high, he looked back at you with a toothy grin, the excitement and pride were so apparent in his face, that it made it your heart ache in happiness.

“We’re really going to be parents Y/N…! I’m so happy…!”

[nompunhere]

Knightly Security (H/ollow K/night Vore Fic) (Illustrated)

Voretober promp- y’know what, maybe I shouldn’t even bother trying to link it back to that But it’s finally hereeeeeee! Collab with @scketchorinopop , he made art for this!!

Characters: H/egemol (going off of the maggot!H/egemol headcanon), O/grim (aka the D/ung D/efender or, more accurately to this fic, W/hite D/efender) Word Count: 6,310 Warnings: Anxiety, H/ollow K/night Spoilers, Bugs, Implied/Referenced Bug Racism(?), and Safe Soft Vore (I’d call this quarter-sized, probably). And in the same vein as the bug racism, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism(? sort of?? You’ll know what I mean if you’ve read the H/unter’s J/ournal entry on maggots) Other Notes: Yeah this was originally gonna be for Voretober 2022, either for the Bubble prompt or the Blanket one. College kinda threw that plan out the window. But hey! My cool good friend Scketch wanted to collab, so you get ✨art✨!! and also me starting to love the maggot!H/ege headcanon. it’s got Potential. now blease take this fic I can’t stand to look at it for another minute

Fic under the cut

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Hegemol was usually happy in his workshop. It was his safe space, a room filled with the tools and materials to bring his ideas to reality, a place where the maggot was free to express his ingenuity in a constructive way. The King had truly been generous in granting him this boon along with his knighthood.

At the moment, however, he couldn't find the focus to work on his creations. He was too distracted by the anxiety creeping under his skin. A room couldn't protect him from the fears that plagued his mind.

His armor was missing. No one was sure of the who, how, or why of the matter, but they at least knew when it was taken and where from. He found himself running through the details once more.

The Great Knights were reasonably certain that the set had been stolen while Hegemol was asleep in the City barracks, resting after a day of being stationed in the capital for an assignment. He had gone to bed in the room set aside for the knights or other important visitors. The Five didn't exactly like the separation, feeling like they were being treated as above all the other sentries and guards in more than just rank, but Hegemol did require the privacy that the room afforded. He did not need it getting out to the public that he was a maggot. Many theorized about what he could be, but of those guesses, few ever put forth the idea that the armored knight could possibly be "such a lowly creature," and those that did were scoffed at, regarded as delusional.

Back to the point, he had gone to bed, and though he could sleep in his armor, it was not the most comfortable, so he generally didn't if he had the choice. He'd gotten out of the suit, packed it into its space-saving form, and made sure it was within line of sight as he tucked himself under the blankets. He should've heard if someone tried to move it, or even enter the room, and yet, he didn't. Somehow, someone or something got past the locked door (or windows), took the heavy block of metal that was Hegemol's armor, and left with it, all without making a sound as he slept. It should've been too dense for a single bug to lift without immense effort. Maybe there was more than one perpetrator involved? Or perhaps magic was used? It had to have been stolen. There was no way it just- disappeared.

All these thoughts led to the tinkerer being highly distracted as he worked. He was abruptly dragged back to the present when the bracket he was welding loudly cracked. Quickly, he cut off the flame and set his blowtorch aside, peering closer at the damaged metal. He'd overdone it, the maggot realized with a groan, planting his masked face on the tabletop. That was what he got for letting his mind wander while using dangerous tools, he supposed.

He left his head on the table for a few long moments, until a quiet knock at the door made him flinch. He looked up, hesitating. The retainers knew not to come in without his express permission. If anyone was going to enter his workshop, it'd be someone who already knew his secret.

"What is it?" he called, just loud enough to be heard.

"It's me," came the response, gentle and friendly, a toned-down version of that familiar jovial tone. Hegemol made a sound of acknowledgement, and the door slowly clicked open, revealing the face of his close friend and fellow knight, Ogrim. Currently the only active knight within the walls of the White Palace, as the other three were in the City, guarding the streets and searching for the all-important tool that would allow their fifth to perform his job.

"Hello," the Defender greeted, leaning into the room, "Just checking in. My patrol brought me to this area of the halls, and I figured I should see how you're faring? Wouldn't do to let you feel abandoned when- well, I'm sure you're well aware." He gave an uncertain chuckle, tapping a claw against the doorframe and glancing into the hall. When he looked back at Hegemol, his gaze was colored with curiosity. His eyes lingered on the maggot's small form perched at the workstation, clad in only his welding gear.

The armorless knight cleared his throat and stared at the tools in front of him, prompting Ogrim to do the same. "Heh, yes, I'm- I-I'm alright. Thank you," Hegemol tried. He winced at the stutter. It was so much easier to hide it when making use of the artificial confidence the suit provided. His friend merely nodded, though he looked unconvinced. The tinkerer sighed and pulled off his welding mask to give the other a weary smile, getting one in return.

He set the mask down as Ogrim stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him with a quiet 'click.' The beetle came closer, gesturing to the bracket and other bits of metal spread over the workspace. "So, what were you working on, if I may be so bold?"

"Oh, just- some.. locking mechanisms. F-for the armor." He leaned forward to pick up the bracket once more, glaring at it with a huff and turning it over in his hands. To his side, Ogrim tilted his head, giving an inquisitive hum to prompt him to continue. Hegemol glanced at him, then back to the table. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was okay for him to go on about his work. His friend was offering him the opportunity.

"T-the suit itself should be too heavy for a bug to lift, especially when condensed as it was, but if it were unfolded, it could be moved piece by piece, or even w-worn out of the room. Only the King and I know how to unfold it—though I could teach you if you'd like—but it's theoretically n-not impossible for another bug to have f-figured out the mechanisms." He gestured to the bracket and the other metal pieces before them, the other knight following his movements with interest. "I was thinking of adding these extra locking parts, to make the set more difficult to unpack if you don't know the exact process. They would also offer more surface area for further spellwork to be inscribed, particularly if I can add pale ore to increase the efficacy of the magic. I plan to work with the King to design some that would reject anyone who isn't the proper owner or a trusted ally, w-when he has time," the maggot finished, quieting to a mumble at the end.

Meanwhile, though Ogrim was genuinely interested in what his friend had to say, he still found himself focusing on the smaller bug's state more than the words themselves. Hegemol was a lot harder to hear than normal, despite the lack of metal shell to cover his mouth—or perhaps because of it. The Defender didn't know the specifics of how the helmet worked, but he distantly recalled hearing about how it amplified sound in both directions, making it easier for the wearer to hear and to be heard. It gave Hegemol's voice a resonance that was strange to hear him without after so long.

Aside from that, the technically-smallest knight was always rather soft-spoken, but rarely to this extent. Ogrim nearly had to strain to pick out his words. His voice picked up a little as he talked about his passion, but otherwise faded to something anxious and uncertain. In fact, as the beetle watched, his body language screamed of anxiety: the constant fidgeting, the unfocused gaze, the shifting of weight on the stool. Hegemol was actually quite expressive when not covered in layers of thick metal—Ogrim just wished he could see those expressions in better circumstances.

The tinkerer looked up at his compatriot, waiting with bated breath for any sort of response to his ideas. The larger knight stared back, blinked, and after a moment, offered another bright smile. "That all sounds very impressive!"

Hegemol waited another second or two, then let out a short sigh, half disappointed and half relieved at the generic reply. "Thanks," he intoned.

Ogrim, seeing the half-hearted acceptance of his own lackluster response, tapped a claw to his chin in thought. "I do believe the idea has potential," he elaborated, moving his forelimb to rest gently on the other's shoulder, "I just can't say how much, precisely, as it's not my area of expertise. I have hope it will prove effective, though. You’re very good with this type of thing." Hegemol slowly nodded. It was then that the beetle noticed just how tense his friend was, even as he felt quite squishy under his own hard, chitinous claw. He turned it so that the sharper bits were angled firmly away from delicate skin and used the flat side to slowly rub the maggot's shoulder, keeping the pressure light while still trying to offer some sense of comfort.

His friend bore it for a few moments before shuddering and nudging the claw, signaling him to stop. The Defender quickly removed the offending limb and tilted his head in concern. "Are you sure you're alright, friend? It's not like you to shy away from contact."

"Yes, it's just," the tinkerer hunched in on himself, "when outside of my armor, every t-touch feels overwhelming, you know? I'm not used to feeling so.. exposed."

"Oh! Of course, of course, my apologies, I should've realized-"

"I-it's fine, you meant well, I know." He huffed and gestured loosely with an arm. "It's as if.. everything's so sharp, a-and cold, and defined out here. Like anything could p-pierce through me at any moment. Not that it hasn't happened before," Hegemol muttered, pulling off his welding gloves to stare at his callused hands, and the old, jagged lines that criss-crossed up his arms. The results of years of learning his craft the hard way. Ogrim hummed sympathetically at the sight. The Five all had their scars—his just came from a different source than the others'.

"I k-know I can handle myself without the armor," the maggot continued, squeezing his hands shut, "but after so long being r-reliant on it, when it's not there for me to retreat into, everything suddenly feels like so much. It's not that I've forgotten how to feel—I still c-can, through the metal, thanks to His Majesty's enchantments—but it's usually dulled. Like- like going from a shell with all setae shaved off to one freshly molted, or so I imagine. A-and usually, when I do come out, it's only for short spans, or for rest. It's just- it's all-" He fumbled for a moment before slumping with a sigh.

"No, I understand. You've explained it quite well, I think," Ogrim chuckled softly, suppressing the urge to reach for his friend again. Hegemol offered a brief tired smile in return, then went back to fidgeting with his tools, picking off lingering flecks of dirt. The beetle tilted his head at how worn-out the other seemed, noting the droop of his antennae and darkness beneath his eyes. It made sense; the tinkerer was highly distressed at the loss of his armor, and it had been missing for over a day, not to mention that he had been in his workshop almost the entire time since. The Defender found it hard to believe that he would've gotten any sleep last night. "Is there anything I can do to help, my friend?"

"Hm? Oh, uhm," Hegemol tapped at the table, contemplating, "N-nothing that I can think of, at the moment. I'll.. let you know? Though I w-wouldn't want to keep you from your duties." He paused. "Speaking of which, shouldn't you be getting back to those, soon? Not that I don't appreciate your company, b-but…"

"Ah! My patrol, yes. I should, shouldn't I?" The dung beetle rubbed his horn sheepishly. "It just feels wrong to leave you unsupported when you're struggling like this. I don't suppose the King would mind a few minutes' break too badly, would he?"

No, he'd likely be far too absorbed in his own work to notice. The maggot scrunched his face a little, then snorted at a joke he kept to himself. He wasn't certain the most loyal of the Five would take as much humor in it. "You're probably fine," he mumbled, absently scrubbing at his eyes. "And I'm not completely unsup- supported. The others are doing their best out there to help."

"Still, I feel as though there's something more I could.. do…" Hegemol looked up as Ogrim trailed off. The Defender had a thoughtful look in his eye, a claw tapping against his chin. "...I may have an idea."

"Mm?"

"It would allow me to give you comfort and respite, while still being free to perform my tasks," he continued. There was a cautious air to his voice, quite unusual for the boisterous knight.

"I'm listening." The other's hesitance made Hegemol rather nervous himself, but he was open to ideas. He got a sense that he should know where Ogrim was going with this, but whatever it was, it eluded him. His friend was rarely one to choose his words so carefully.

"What if.." The beetle clicked his forelimbs together, glancing toward the pile of prototypes in the corner of the room, then back at their creator. "I could share my armor with you, in a manner of speaking? Just until your own is found."

Okay, he knew the larger knight didn't mean that in the literal sense, but what did he mean? The answer teased frustratingly at the edge of the tinkerer's mind, just out of reach.

Seeing his smaller friend’s look of confusion and concentration, the Defender gave a quiet laugh. He could practically watch the thoughts churning behind the maggot’s eyes. Might as well make it easier on him. “I’m sure you remember a.. particular rescue tactic, that I sometimes employ? Very effective in emergencies, but unrecognized by the public, due to its, er, taboo nature?” At Hegemol’s dawning comprehension, Ogrim released the breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding. He hadn’t realized it would be so nerve-wracking to tiptoe around the subject like that! He should’ve just ripped the bandage off. It wasn’t as though he’d ever gotten to ask before, not in a casual setting such as this. Of course, he’d been planning out how to bring the idea up to Isma, but- heh, no no, that could come later. A good.. good while later. “I know it’s.. odd… but it should serve our needs quite well, I think.”

“I… ah.” The smaller knight slumped back on his seat, leaning against the table as he processed. “Could- could I have a moment to think about this?” “Of course, my friend, of course! I wouldn’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t truly want, or frighten you away from something that may help.”

Slowly, Hegemol nodded, grabbing a drill bit to fidget with off the workbench while he considered the offer. Ogrim was asking to- to eat him. His immediate instinct was a shot of fear through the chest, based upon childhood lessons specifically intended to help him avoid such a fate. Of the few things he could remember about his parents, those instances were what stuck out most—their desperate attempts to ensure his survival in a world full of predators that would take any chance they could get to sate their hunger with a maggot’s succulent flesh. Even those among Hallownest’s noble class weren’t above such desires, much as they claimed to be.

Focusing on the weight of metal in his hands, he pushed the fear down. It wasn’t a life-or-death situation. This was Ogrim. Loyal, honest Ogrim, dedicated to his friends and kingdom above all else. The knight who’d sooner make himself completely vulnerable to a terrified citizen than let them come to any harm. This was something the beetle did on an almost regular basis, protecting those in need with his own body when the situation called for it. Of course, the average Hallownestian had claws, or horns, or at the very least, a hard shell, of which Hegemol had none. He'd be entirely at the mercy of his friend's gut. Still, the Defender had experience. He knew how to do it safely.

That's not to mention, the maggot had done something similar himself, two or three times before. Only in absolutely dire situations, of course, and only when he could be certain that the citizen in need of protection was unconscious and wouldn't be waking up anytime soon. He wasn't taking the risk of letting a stranger in on his secret. Not a chance. Though, tucking them into the hollow space at the center of his armor's torso was.. not the safest, he'd admit, what with all the exposed mechanisms, the only cover from such being haphazard platforms and sheets of metal installed to make the inner workings more accessible for maintenance. Perhaps he should improve that a little, add some padding to it. It'd make it more comfortable on him for routine cleaning and repairs, at least…

He repressed a jump when Ogrim abruptly shifted, glancing toward the door. Right, he should make his decision. He tapped the table a few times, both as a means to grab attention and to expel restless energy. When the beetle turned back to him, Hegemol voiced his concerns. "So- erm. You say it would be- it would be until my armor is found, yes? But.. w-what if it isn't found? I would need to get back to working on a n-new suit."

His fellow knight gave him an understanding look. "Should that be necessary, I'll let you out to continue your work. I'll let you out whenever you ask, really! The goal is to ease your mind and allow you some rest, not to trap you. Once you feel ready, you can get right back to it. I'll even let you back in later, if the need arises," he finished with a wink.

The tinkerer obliged him with a laugh. Yeah, Ogrim would never want to hurt him. He was far too kind-hearted, not to mention a dear friend. Giving the situation one last thought, Hegemol weighed the pros and cons. There weren't all that many cons, truthfully. He would be putting his life entirely in the Defender's claws—in his stomach, even—but he knew he could trust Ogrim. And there would be little to no privacy between them, but again, he trusted his friend not to abuse that. The courtesy would extend both ways, of course. And it would be strange, and new, and scary, but isn't everything, the first time around? He couldn't have gotten this far in life without taking a few risks.

As for pros, it would be… comfortable, supposedly. Dark, warm, and soft—ideal sleeping conditions. He didn't know if he'd be able to get past the other traits that defined the inside of a digestive organ, but he supposed he'd simply have to find out. But, most importantly, he'd be shielded from the world. He would have to relinquish all control, but in exchange, he would gain full protection. The thought gave him pause. It would only be for a resting period, and then he'd be released, he reminded himself. In sleep, he would have no control either way, so he wasn't sacrificing much of anything in that regard.

In the end, it all came down to trust. Trust, and willingness to try a new experience.

Finally, Hegemol looked up, meeting Ogrim's gaze head-on, and gave a single, firm nod. The dung beetle brightened considerably. "You accept?"

This was his chance to back down. He fought off the urge to take it. Be brave, o Mighty One. "Yes."

"Excellent! And, er.. Just to clarify, you do know what, precisely, I am offering?"

The maggot nodded again, more shallowly, expression revealing little. "Y-you wish to… ingest me. And hold me harmlessly within y-your stomach while I rest. Is my understanding correct?"

The Defender leaned back a bit. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't at least somewhat looking forward to this, but it didn't seem like the time to admit that aloud. "Ah, heh, 'wish' might be a strong word for it, but, er. Essentially, yes. That's my offer. Knowing that, you'd still agree to it?"

"Mhm."

"Good, good, that's good. I just wanted to make certain you knew what you would be getting into. Now!" He grinned and clacked his claws together in a clap. "Let's get to it, shall we?"

Hegemol let out a slight huff of relief. If his friend asked him if he was sure one more time, he was almost certain he would've changed his answer. He scanned the beetle's face, considering. "So, how do we.. go about this? I'm not too familiar with the process."

"Right, right. Well, to start, we need to get you into my mouth, which- hm. That's a good question, actually! We have a couple options for that. Would you be alright with me picking you up? That would be the easiest way, I think. Otherwise, I could hold my forearms out, and you could climb onto them yourself. Oh, or we could use the table! I could rest my chin on the edge, and you could crawl in of your own volition."

Ah, another chance to lose his nerve, how lovely. Still, with how excited his fellow knight looked over having the idea, the tinkerer could hardly find it in himself to turn him down. "T-that last choice sounds, um, acceptable."

Once again reminded of his comrade's hesitance, Ogrim tried to tone down his enthusiasm. Keeping his expression and tone light, he provided directions, wanting to make it easier on the smaller bug. "Alright. Go ahead and hop up, and I'll be ready whenever you are."

The beetle backed up a little to give Hegemol room as the tinkerer moved his tools and materials out of the way, shuffling them aside to be put away properly later. That done, he pulled himself from the stool onto his workbench. Cautiously, he turned back to his friend, who had gotten to one knee and was already lowering his head onto the surface.

Gods, even at eye level, he was.. big. Big, and yet not big enough, or so it appeared. His mouth was larger than the maggot's own, yes, but their eyes were around the same scale. There couldn't have been much difference between the sizes of their heads, even. Ogrim gave him an easy grin, then everything else stopped as his maw opened wide.

Oh.

The anxious knight couldn't help the shudder that ran through him at the yawning cavern. No, Hegemol. Calm. Focus. It's just Ogrim. Just Ogrim… He steeled himself and crept closer. Those jaws could open further than he expected, honestly. He eyed the saliva starting to pool alongside the beetle's tongue with trepidation. He was hoping there'd be less of it. Leaning forward on his forelimbs, he took in the sight of the Defender's waiting mouth, shivering as humid breath washed over him, antennae flicking back. It was so still, so patient, and yet he could see all the little twitches of each muscle, held taut in anticipation. He sat back, just enough to lift his upper hands and tap them together nervously.

This didn't escape the other's notice, of course. Ogrim let his face fall into something more relaxed and reassuring. "I promise you, this is safe. I won't let you come to any harm, and certainly not from my own body."

Hegemol heaved in a breath and straightened up, rubbing his arm, brushing over his scars. "I-I know. I trust you. That's.. that's not it, e-exactly, it's just…"

"Mm?"

He huffed and blurted out his concern. "Just- are we- we sure I-I'll fit? Not that I d-don't trust your judgment, it just- i-it seems- …improbable."

The dung beetle blinked. After a moment, he put a claw to his mandibles, eyes squinted slightly in thought. "Hmm… It shouldn't be a problem! I've never ingested anyone quite your size before, true, but your, er, malleability should more than make up for that." To prove his point, he carefully pressed down on the maggot's head, watching the flesh bounce back into place as he released it. Hegemol shook himself out and nodded, eyes squeezed shut. Ogrim chuffed apologetically. "The process of getting you down might be rough, but I assure you, it should be quite comfortable once you're safely inside."

"I-I'm sure. Could- could we..?"

"Of course, friend, of course."

Once more, the maw was laid open before him. Once more, Hegemol inched forward, until his vision was almost entirely taken up by the shadowed green inside of his fellow knight's mouth. Once more, he steeled himself for what was to come. And with that, he pushed forward to immerse himself in Ogrim's depths.

Or he tried to, anyway. In reality, what happened was that he flinched back as soon as he felt mandibles scrape against the sides of his face. Sharp, sharp, far too sharp. As he crouched there, panting and staring, those perfectly innocuous chunks of chitin seemed all too threatening. He could feel lingering points of contact where they had just barely brushed against him. As the larger bug closed his mouth to tilt his head in concern, Hegemol gasped in a breath and let his eyes fall shut. Scarab mandibles aren't sharp, you blubbering fool. Where's all that courage it took to get here? He barely touched you.

"...You don't have to do this if you're not comfortable, Hege-"

"No, no," he shook his head and sat up, meeting the beetle's eyes with a determined look. "Th-that was just- instinct. I want to do this. I-I just.." Ogrim gave him a questioning look, waiting patiently. "Could," the maggot started. He huffed, frustrated with himself. "Could you.. put me in your- your mouth? I- You have experience with this, and I- I'd rather this part b-be over with."

Somehow, the Defender's voice fell to an even gentler tone. "Of course, I understand. Just relax, close your eyes if you'd like, and I'll take care of it from here."

With one final nod, Hegemol went still, his eyes falling shut as instructed. He couldn't bring himself to go entirely limp, but this would have to do. He couldn't keep himself from tensing slightly as large claws came to rest on either side of his face. Thankfully, Ogrim provided him a moment to breathe and resettle himself before gently tugging him forward. The solid chitinous appendages squeezed ever so carefully to reshape his head into something narrower. He took one more deep breath, and with that, he was finally guided into the maw of his brother in arms.

The beetle tried not to gasp as Hegemol made contact with his tongue. The taste… He wasn’t normally one for meat, but by the gods, his friend tasted divine. He couldn’t help the saliva that rushed in upon detecting such a delicacy entering his mouth, but he could at least make use of it. He promptly began to slather the maggot with fluid as soon as his head was engulfed in his jaws. The sweet, savory flesh was still highly malleable, conforming to the limits of Ogrim’s mouth, giving so easily to the ministrations of his tongue. He stayed mindful, of course. He didn’t want to startle his friend any further, let alone make him feel like a mere morsel, Wyrm forbid. No, no, of course not, he was just.. slicking him to ease the trip down, that’s all. He’d just have to make sure to clarify that once the tinkerer was settled. Along with, perhaps, a brief, tasteful compliment to his flavor. The Defender couldn’t exactly lie to his fellow knight, now could he? Especially when- ah, it seemed he was humming his enjoyment aloud. He let the low sound peter out, gave the other a short pat, and eased him further inside.

The smaller knight would've very much appreciated it if his friend could have gotten this part over with. He didn't need his thoughts spiraling out of control again before he was even fully inside. Nearly holding his breath, he hunkered down and let everything happen around him. It was difficult not to struggle, but he managed, keeping himself limp. Luckily, it seemed that the brunt of the.. tasting was over, though he couldn't help tensing as his head met the back of the throat. His antennae twitched against the damp surface. Even with his eyes squeezed shut, it was easy to feel when the flesh before him parted, opening into a yawning void that he didn’t dare gaze upon. The sparse moments before it pulled him inside seemed to last an eternity, until finally, Ogrim swallowed.

The scarab couldn't help but grin as his comrade began to slide into his gullet. He'd never gotten the chance to really enjoy the process before, especially not with anyone so squishy. Now, he could finally be slow, gentle, rather than rushing to get his charge down and out of danger. He could feel every little detail of his friend's form, taste every little subtle flavor. Every twitch and squirm was clear to him, even as he could tell how much the smaller knight was trying to keep calm, keep still. Without his input, another hum kicked up. His claws met his chest, hardly able to detect the near-formless shape past his own flesh and shell and armor, but distinctly feeling the mass pushing outward against the muscles of his esophagus. His tongue flicked out against his mandibles, seeking more of the exquisite taste. Such a wonderful little warmth, being squeezed down, down, deeper into his body.

Despite the discomfort of being shoved around like a helpless ragdoll, Hegemol was grateful that at least this part of the process was smooth and efficient. The esophageal muscles’ actions were involuntary, simply performing the job they were made for and giving him no special treatment. He was shunted downward at a steady pace. Fast, but not so much as to be disorienting. The mechanicalness of it all was almost a comfort to the tinkerer. More examples of automation and consistency became clear to him as he was pushed deeper. The regular pounding of his friend’s heart, pushing blood through the beetle’s hemocoel. Breaths drawing air through the spiracles to spread into tracheae, carrying oxygen to tissues throughout the body. Soft gurgles of the lower digestive tract processing food eaten long before his arrival. The rhythm of life was overwhelming, when heard all at once, but as he broke it down in his mind to its component parts, it became a sort of reassurance. Things still made sense, even when made up of complex organic matter rather than raw elements or simple minerals.

All this self-soothing focus was enough to occupy his attention until he was dropped unceremoniously into Ogrim’s stomach. He quickly pushed himself upright and shook himself out, scrubbing at his face with his upper set of hands. He had barely a second to orient himself before the wall behind him squeezed inward, making him gasp.

The Defender hugged himself tightly as his fellow knight was deposited safe in his belly. So soft, so warm, just barely weighing down the organ. The perfect size to make him comfortably full, while still having a fair bit of wiggle room. He wasn't sure if the maggot really was as warm as he seemed, or if it was just his own fondness and contentment making it feel that way. And the softness… With how pliant Hegemol's exterior was, it was hard to make out his outline, discern where the smaller bug ended and his own flesh began. He could only determine his friend's exact location by the movements against his inner walls. It made every shift of the limbs and flick of the antennae feel special, ephemeral, giving him a fluttery sensation as though his gut were full of lumaflies rather than a comrade. He gave another small squeeze, then loosened his hold to instead pat lightly at the hidden form. This was lovely, every bit of it. He'd have to see if Hege would ever be willing to do this again sometime.

“Make yourself at home, dear friend,” Ogrim sighed, a blissful smile on his face. “Are you alright? How is it in there? Comfortable, I hope.”

Hegemol shuddered a bit as the wall retracted. Sitting up, he looked around, not that he could see anything, exactly. His antennae waved about in the darkness. It smelled.. odd. He wouldn’t call it gross—as a maggot, he’d be hard-pressed to find much of anything disgusting—but it was certainly new. Not impossible to get used to though, given enough time. He reached out to touch the enclosing flesh. Damp. Slippery. Dragging his hand along it, he felt out the space around him. There wasn’t much. The walls kept closing in on him, rubbing against him, kneading him. He wasn’t food. There was no acid, he- he wasn’t food, it was just- the organ was investigating its new occupant, that’s all. Breathe, Hegemol. He was fine. …He’d be fine.

“..Hegemol?”

Slowly, he turned around to face the front, resting his forehead against where Ogrim’s claw was with a sigh. “I-I’m alright, yes.” He was safe, he knew. No stinging, burning, or tingling, and he was certain he’d notice a lot faster than most other bugs if there was. As for comfort… He moved a hand to rub back at the beetle’s innards. It was.. soft, yes, and warm. That was to be expected. Arthropods’ interiors tended to have far less defense than their exteriors. And there was plenty of padding to hold in heat. The walls were slick, but covered in thick fluid that clung to anything it touched. It… he couldn’t say it was unpleasant, really, not when he knew it couldn’t hurt him. Perhaps if he viewed it as a warm bath..?

“I-it will take some g-getting used to, I think, but it- it should d-do nicely.” After all, it did provide the one thing he wanted. The outside world was entirely blocked out, hidden behind layers of muscle and one of the toughest sets of armor in Hallownest. There was nothing sharp or cold or hard, deep in the dung beetle’s gut. Nothing to possibly hurt him but for the acids that could threaten to escape the walls, kept inert by Ogrim’s sheer force of will and care for his wellbeing. He knew the larger knight was experienced in this, and that his will was strong. He could trust him with his life. He was safe.

The tinkerer did one more loop of the space, trying not to shudder as the surrounding muscles brushed against his side, then settled right in the center, lying down in the pit of the stomach. He shuffled his limbs a bit, adjusting his position to root himself more firmly amongst the ever-moving tissues. At least he could be somewhat stable. The organ still kneaded and pressed at him curiously, not quite knowing what to do with him. The front wall, especially. He shut his eyes tight and tilted his head down as something rubbed at him from the outside. Ogrim’s claw, right. Rightrightright. His friend was merely checking in on him. He leaned into the show of concern, just a bit. Just to confirm that he was doing well. He appreciated knowing that the scarab wouldn’t forget about him so easily.

Ogrim rubbed his stomach, satisfied. The little engineer really hit the spot. He flushed slightly; he shouldn’t be thinking of his comrade that way. He was so delectable though, and so filling-! His breath hitched as Hegemol nuzzled(??) back at him. That’s what it felt like, anyway. He quietly chuckled at the abrupt show of affection. Always full of surprises, that bug. Though perhaps this shouldn’t have been quite so unexpected. Hegemol was plenty tactile with his fellow knights when safely concealed in his armor, after all. Maybe this was a sign that the method was working? Was the maggot feeling more confident, thanks to the experience? Thanks to him? Oh, he hoped so. He so adored being able to successfully assist others with their needs and problems, particularly those he cared for. It always left him with a sense of fulfillment.

“It’s time for me to go back to my patrol now, but you try and get some sleep, alright? I’ll wake you if there’s any news regarding your armor, or if the King requests your presence, but otherwise, you should remain undisturbed. Just let me know when you want out, or if you need anything else, and I’ll be happy to oblige.” Somewhere under the layers of his body, he felt the up-and-down movement of a nod, as well as a small vibration from Hegemol’s hum of acknowledgement a moment later. With one more good pat, he stood and began towards the door of the workshop, trying to keep his steps smooth and steady for the tinkerer’s sake. It felt as though the smaller bug was already nestled right in. The occasional shudder or shiver came through, but those were starting to die down. Hopefully they would dissipate in full within the next few minutes as the maggot adjusted.

The White Defender paused as he reached the exit, one claw on the handle. He gazed fondly downward, towards where his brother in arms currently resided. Inside, Hegemol would hear one last reassurance as his sleepless nights caught up to him. “Rest well, friend,” came the hushed murmur, “I’ll be your armor for as long as you need.”

***********************************

And there we go! Thank you to everyone who stuck around during these. massive gaps between posts;; And again, a big thank you to Scketch!! This has been fun, I'd love to work with you again sometime. Or merhaps another friend who would like to collaborate?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also also! I have been granted permission to share these other sketches as well, from earlier in the writing/art planning process:

(That last one was a little what-if scenario of Hege getting unwillingly nommed and not really having a way to effectively struggle, eheheh) (it’s not like I have a fic outline where THAT would ever happen. ahaha. ha,,, ha)

Thanks for reading! Feedback (and reblogs) are greatly appreciated, and criticism is welcome, so long as it’s constructive/respectful. Asks are open.

—————

DNI NSFW blogs, blogs that post exclusively hard and/or fatal vore, weight gain blogs, mpreg blogs, proshippers, TERFs, ace exclusionists, etc.

[slotumn]

Today's 3H worldbuilding headcanon of the day:

How do the countries in 3H insult one another? Because as we all know, establishing how different groups insult and dehumanize one another in-universe is very important to worldbuilding.

Anyway.

First and most obvious types of insults would be animal-based insults, with each nation having their associated mascot animals. Adrestia gets "vulture," Faerghus gets "rabid/rabid cats/rabid kitties," and Leicester gets "snakes in deer's skin," with the implication being snakes = reptiles = wyverns = Almyrans = Leicesterians may as well be Almyran (barbarian, heathen, etc)

Second would be food-based insults. Includes both stuff about stereotypical cuisine (whichever region has surströmming would get "rotten fish breath") and mocking about food security. Ex: "Go munch on cattle feed"

Third, mocking accents and language. I guess the extent(?) of this one depends on whether you headcanon the nations as having different languages; I do, personally. And I expect most of it would mock the vernacular tongue used by commoners, rather than the posh ones used by nobles.

Fourth, accusations of sexual degeneracy, through exaggerations and distortions. Adrestians get "daughter-pimpers," in reference to the Imperial harem. Faerghans get "page-fuckers," in reference to the whole knighthood thing. Leicesterians get "cuckolds," with the obvious implication being that Almyrans fuck their women. (Also they probably have a myriad of creative ways to call each other gay, but that's just true so)

Finally, religion-based insults, frequently tied to big historical events in the continent. The War of Heroes would be a great fodder for those in the south to call northerners "descendants of sinners/dirty blood" or something along those lines. Meanwhile, the Official Church Lore™ claiming that the Elites and Nemesis were also given their Crests and Relics by the goddess would make them call southerners "second choice" or "half-baked" for supposedly being chosen but not even having Relics. (The exact wording would be a lot ruder of course)

There are probably insults for people considered too religious as well, albeit the origins and usage would be far more recent compared to the above. "Hrym zealots/terrorists" for those from the Empire, referencing the rebellion that got the Southern Church exiled. "Rhodos zealots/terrorists" for those from the Kingdom (especially the western part), referencing all the stuff Western Church was up to during canon. I... don't think there would be an equivalent for people from the Alliance though, the Eastern Church seems too weak to foster a strain of religious extremism that is both distinctly associated with Leicester and considered a threat to other Fódlanis*. But Leicester does get hit with extra pagan/heathen and "fake believer" accusations, again due to their proximity to Almyra + Alliance lords politicking

(*"other Fódlanis" is the key phrase, Adrestians and Faerghans wouldn't care if Leicesterians did religiously-motivated attacks on Almyrans or w/e. But Western Church or Southern Church causing chaos within their own countries would be a great excuse to point fingers.)

And obviously the funniest(?) part is that if non-Fódlanis learned of all this, they'd just go "that's crazy, you guys all seem the same to us though." It's always groups that have 90% of things in common saying the nastiest shit to each other, whether that's because they can't stand the 10% difference or because they hate looking in a mirror.

[buttercuparry]

I wonder if those who outrage against "masculinized" female characters ever stop to consider that the more our society is progressing, we are moving further away from the concept of gender roles. And that what you are into and what you do is actually a personal quirk and not something that classifies you.

I mean the manliest heterosexual cis man to have ever manned can find embroidery soothing. Like his love language can be gifting his friends pretty embroidered things. It is not a question of his capacity to be "feminine"...it is a question of talent and passion.

I think when fandom characterizes Arya as this masculine coded violent girl- they just can't fathom that a young girl can ever have any other interests than those who came before her. But if it is all about aesthetics, how come Arya cooing over babies, her collecting flowers, her scrubbing floors, prepping meals etc are not considered part of it?

Here is the thing though, gushing over babies is not something that's limited to the female. Samwell ( I know I use him as an example a lot) sang lullabies to his baby brother. He loved this particular nightly ritual till his father thought it "soft" and put an end to it. Soothing babies is not being soft, it's providing them with the emotional care they need. And the only reason it seemed freakish to Randyll Tarly is because this care was being provided by his son. And that's bullshit.

I also think the matter of this supposed criticism resides in part with stereotypes of sexuality. I mean the most tradfem of the characters is headcanoned to have one hundred and one children. While a mother who lost her son in womb is deemed to forever remain infertile. Like I know Dany was cursed by Mirri Maz Duur but this is a fantasy series! Anything can happen. And even if one claims this to be a personal view on the text, linking infertility to her supposed madness is not it.

I feel like there was this checklist going on where they have stuff like: do male characters lust after these women, do these characters dress up prettily, are they attracted to men- if so then they are the definition of feminine. When unfortunately Dany passed all of these ( even the one with many gross male characters almost wanting to prey on her)- they went with the infertility- madness thing.

They can't do this with Brienne because I think Grrm has made it impossible to do so with her. She actively tried to participate in the role subscribed to her but was made fun of by those around her. So she took to knighthood. It has been abundantly made clear that she loved Renly and there is this weird push and pull between her and Jaime. And it's weird how much the scale of femininity lies not with the characters, but in the kind of association this character has with a man. And Jaime is one of the most "desireable" man of Asoiaf. Brienne not being in the way of the one who they think is embodiment of the feminine helps too I guess.

I think this is what stumps them about Arya. It doesn't matter how much she says: the woman is important too. How much she whines when people call her a boy. To them it is all about aesthetics. They go: is she wearing pretty dresses? And they answer is: her dresses are muddy because she runs around in it just as a child would do. They go: okay does she like wearing them- the answer is she never complained before. Only perhaps during her whole riverland arc because she thinks it is impractical. And to them these immediately translate into- but! But!! Sansa was said to be a lady at three. She never thought to go against that which was prescribed to her!! Demureness and subservience is what is feminine!! And also dresses, songs, dancing, embroidery are absolutely hated by Arya because these represent traditional femininity and she has internalized misogyny so she would rather fence and horse ride and wear pants as they symbolize her affinity to the masculine.

They are so so obsessed with a particular kind of beauty and if it is all soft and demure. And of course how it appeals to the male gaze ( all those edits about how beautifully sansa suffers) . Arya is targeted because she in the text is set up against someone who can be whitewashed into their idea of the feminine. Which is why there is this repeated conjecture and criticism of fancasts because how can Arya look like that ? She is afterall called horsefaced (doesn't matter if it's done by bullies) and there is nothing feminine about her ( she is too rebellious)!

This again brings in the case of Lyanna. Right now the fandom is fawning over Elia but there was a time when the most common theory was Arya inherited Lyanna's willfulness while Sansa has her aunt's beauty and femininity. Even now in bits and pieces I get to see this take because how can someone fight over one who looks like Arya.

And what does Arya look like? A pre-pubescent child. Because she is one. And with all the trying to stay alive while disguised as a boy: yeah I think personal grooming wasn't the first thing that was on her mind back then. But all these somehow reinforces her masculinity. Her having no option and turning up to the HoBaW and having to play by their rules somehow does the same. And I think last of all this is what forms the crux of it.

Arya's storyline is her own. She hasn't yet been to a place where her themes can get intertwined with a male character. Up until now her story provides a commentary that is purely her own, independent of any man. And I say this because I know how GoT was written, I see what is happening with Rhaenyra and Alicent in HoTD. I feel like in asoiaf fandom the trend is that themes discussed about women characters often end up being more about their male ship partners. Or they are completely removed from any significant action- and moved as passive pieces across the storyboard in a way that would best glorify or vilify a man.

So here is a female character who is on a journey that is solely her own. It cannot be twisted into anything relating to any man. And I think this at a subconscious level feels peculiar to them. Which is why show!Arya got butchered because to D&d Arya's rebellion got translated into " I want to be one of the boys".

And I think this is why there is also this urge to headcanon her as someone who won't be interested in romance. They don't see her admiring Gendry when he is working, the sensuality of her interaction with Jaqen in the bath house ( i know it's creepy. Grrm at times makes me want to side eye him), that Jon literally compares Ygritte to Arya. Romance to them looks unnatural on anyone who is not playing by "norms".

[confiteorims]

knocks on your door. what does your muse think about the ishgarden salt lick(s)

The first time E’mrys heard about the tradition of licking a piece of rock salt at the Ishgardian dinner table he thought it was a joke. A very disturbing and unhygienic joke but a joke nonetheless. And then he discovered it was not, in fact, a joke. That it was actually a thing Ishgardians did.

With a grimace he muttered to himself in that instant:

“Maybe Nidhogg had a point in trying to destroy this place.”

[inkstainedhandswithrings]

hi, so, there's this headcanon I've had about Gungi for a little while and seeing him in the bad batch trailer prompted me to share it :)

(btw go watch the trailer, it's SO good)

So, do we all remember that arc in tcw where Ahsoka gets captured by the Trandoshians? If not, quick recap. Basically, they capture her during a mission and drop her on this island to hunt her for sport. She meets former Jedi younglings there and they try to escape together. One of their plans is ambushing the drop ship when it comes in to bring more prey. They fail, but the prisoner on the ships just so happens to be a Wookie (Chewbacca, actually, if I remember correctly). Now that's all good and well, but you know what surprised me? Ahsoka spoke Wookie.

I mean I get that Jedi learn different languages in order to understand different species and people around the galaxy but Wookie seems awfully specific for me. We never really see her on a mission on Kashyyyk (unlike Obi-Wan who spoke the Twi'leks language and is regularly seen with Orn Free Ta and on a mission on Ryloth) or interacting with any other Wookies. Except for Gungi.

We see them interacting in the Kyber Crystal arc and it got me thinking.

Supposedly Ahsoka is nearing the end of her Padawan Training and expects to soon become a Knight. Which makes sense if you think about it. When she first became a Padawan Anakin thought she was too young, but Yoda disagreed. Despite her age she was ready to be a Padawan on a skill-based level. Throughout the show we see people saying how she's more skilled than her peers. An early knighthood is just as plausible as her early padawan training. Take the Wrong Jedi arc. by the end (at the age of 17) she was offered knighthood. she turned it down, but that's not my point

Long story short? My headcanon is that Ahsoka was scouting Gungi, hoping to make him her student when she becomes a knight and he a padawan. And I would have LOVED to see it.

Just think about it!

Ahsoka seeing this skilled youngling and immediately learning to speak Wookie so she can give him proper training.

Her watching him extra carefully during his Kyber Crystal Trial (or whatever its called)

eventually it's time for her knighthood and for Gungi to be assigned a Master and she just nags and nags and nags Obi-Wan about bringing it up in a council meeting till he finally concedes but you can't just become a knight and then immediately get a padawan ahsoka

but anakin did, Master, why am I any different? he trained me!

*sigh* I am aware, knight tano

anyway eventually they become master and padawan and suddenly Gungi has ETERNAL bragging rights, because his master is Ahsoka Tano, former student of Anakin Skywalker, part of Yodas goddamn disaster lineage

eventually he grows taller than her, but it takes a while because her montrals also still keep growing so it doesn't count, my young, inexperienced padawan and everytime Ahsoka has to interrogate a perp she is good cop and just talks all nice and calmly to them until they eventually do something incredibly disrespectful, so she calls her student for help in handling this perp. They fully expect a small togruta child to show up and suddenly this massive Wookie is just absolutely TOWERING over them

First time Mission with the rest of disaster lineage + Rex goes absolutely south and there is an endless amount of arguing, meanwhile Rex and Gungi stand off to the side like yeah its always like this kid

Rex thinks there's finally a second reasonable person there but PLOT TWIST, Gungi lives for the drama and is spilling tea with Obi-Wan in 2 days time (he also began learning Wookie as soon as Ahsoka started nagging him)

Even Rex learned the language, but SOMEHOW Anakin just,,, didn't get the memo and never learned it so everytime they're in a room together it's just,,, uh... u good bro

*responds in Wookie, telling him he's having a rough week*

nice to hear trainings going well, pal, keep it up

*stares into the camera like he's on the office*

and somehow they kill palpatine, destroy all the chips and are a disaster family till death doth them part

the end

[blood-darkened-moon]

What is your view about the characterisation of the overall Ashford family? I think they are Scots in origin, since the majority of them are red-rehaired, and likely they made their fortune on the British Empire. I have the impression that all of them had Ph.D. and were scientist, which is a rarity among European nobility.

Omg, what have you gotten me into? Don’t get me wrong, doing all the research was fun, but there is so much stuff I cloud write about here, so much stuff. Every time I thought I could see an end, new points popped up, and I had to keep it going. This is long. I hope you don’t mind. Anyway, I tried to limit this answer to speculations and useful information without drifting too much into headcanon territory.

Surname

The surname Ashford was first found in Cornwall and Devon in southern England. Later a branch of the family migrated eastward to Kent, where a town with the name Ashford can be found. There are seven places in total with the name Ashford in the UK. The surname Ashford originates from a place called Ayshford, which was located in Cornwall. Many Cornish surnames appear to be topographic surnames, which were given to people who resided near physical features such as hills, streams, churches, or types of trees. They are also characterized by a multitude of spelling variations. “Ashford” was also derived from the Old English words aesc and ford which meant a ford where ash trees grew.

Surnames became common during medieval times. English people were formerly known only by a single name. During medieval times the spelling of surnames was rarely consistent. Names were recorded as they sounded rather than adhering to any specific spelling rules. It wasn’t unusual that the same person was referred to with different spellings of their surname. Spelling variations of Ashford include Aishford, Ayshford, Aysford, Asford, Asseford, and many more.

Peerage

In the UK, five peerages or peerage divisions co-exist, the Peerage of England (titles created by the kings and queens of England before the Acts of Union in 1707), the Peerage of Scotland (titles created by the kings and queens of Scotland before 1707), the Peerage of Great Britain (titles created for the Kingdom of Great Britain between 1707 and 1801), the Peerage of Ireland (titles created for the Kingdom of Ireland before the Acts of Union in 1801, and some titles created later) and the Peerage of the United Kingdom (most titles created since 1801 to the present).

The peerages in the United Kingdom include both hereditary and lifetime peers. The latter ones form now the majority. The titles comprised in the peer system are duke/duchess, marquess/marchioness, earl/countess, viscount/viscountess, and baron/baroness, with duke being the highest and baron the lowest rank. Peers can hold more than one hereditary title by virtue of different peerages.

The title earl is equivalent to count. The difference is that “earl” is only used for counts in the UK, while “count” is used for the same rank in other countries. A female form of earl does not exist. Thus, “countess” is used as a word for both a female count and a female earl.

Peerages are created by the British monarch by either writs of summons or letters patents. The Government in the United Kingdom makes recommendations concerning who should be elevated to the peerage after external vetting by the House of Lords Appointments Commission. The initiative to award a peerage, baronetcy, or knighthood today comes from the British Prime Minister.

Typically, the title is only inherited by the direct male line and is lost if the peer has no sons. In certain peerages in the peerage of Scotland and in exceptional cases, the titles can be transferred to daughters if there isn’t a male offspring available. Other descendants can be specified in the letters patent by a special remainder. Letters patents are not absolute; they may be amended or revoked by an Act of Parliament.

Family members of British peers aren’t peers themselves. They count as commoners until they receive a title, for example, through inheritance. Though, the children have courtesy titles. The eldest son of an earl, for example, receives the courtesy title viscount, and daughters receive the title lady.

English, Irish, or British (but not Scottish) peerage can only be inherited by a legitimate born child (parents are married at the time of its birth) and not legitimated by a later marriage.

Only 18 (2.2%) of 758 hereditary peers by succession were female as of 1992. A female peer, in their own right, keeps her title after marriage. Her husband does not receive a title by marrying her. If he has a higher-ranking title, she bears both titles. The higher-ranking one is mentioned first. Her title is inherited by her eldest son or daughter if she doesn’t have sons.

Notes:

Veronica was a countess. I haven’t found cases of women receiving titles on their own during the 19th century and a few 100 years prior. (I’m not saying they don’t exist, but I haven’t found anything similar.) I only found cases of women inheriting existing titles due to the absence of male children.

Veronica’s female descendants can probably inherit the title if they don't have brothers.

Alfred and Alexia weren’t born legitimate since Alexander wasn’t married. Alfred shouldn’t have inherited the title. Maybe Alexander requested a change in the letters patent, or Alexander married the surrogate mother and got a divorce after the twins were born, or this rule doesn’t exist in the RE universe.

Harman addresses Alfred and the other Ashfords incorrectly in his letters. He wrote Sir Alfred and used Sir for the others too. Sir is used for the gentry. The correct way to address Alfred is My Lord or Dear Lord Alfred. Only in the file Butler's Letter, he addresses Alexander correctly as Lord Alexander.

Timeline for reference (calculation can be found here):

Minimum estimation/Maximum estimation [Time as the head of the Ashford family] official and unofficial estimated dates

Alexia: January 1971 – December 1998 Age: 27 Alfred: January 1971 – December 1998 [1983 – 1998] Age: 27 Alexander: 1938/1943 – (March/April 1983) or December 1998 [1968 – 1983] Age: 40/45 or 55/60 Edward: 1910/1915 – July 1968 [1958/63 – 1968] Age: 53/58 Arthur: 1875/1885 – 1958/63 [1910/1925 – 1958/63] Age: 73/88 Thomas: 1875/1885 – 1910/1925 [1900/1905 – 1910/1925] Age: 35/40 Stanley: 1840/1855 – 1900/1905 [1875/1885 – 1900/1905] Age: 50/65 Veronica: 1805/1825 – 1875/1885 [1830/1850 – 1875/1885] Age: 60/80

Veronica

As I already said in the Veronica post, I dislike the background information from DC about her because it makes no sense and raises more questions than it answers. Therefore, I will ignore the part about her being a child prodigy (let’s say Leon made this up too). As for the rest, that’s ok, and I tried to integrate it. However, good looks and charming people with your manner of speaking won’t give you titles. I tried to find out what Veronica possibly could have done to receive hers without much success. Well, human nature never changes, so I guess the answer is the same as it would be today: lots of money and powerful friends in high positions. Money is always the best option to bend existing rules. Now have some, hopefully historically less inaccurate, speculations: Women during the Victorian Era and before didn’t have many options for what to do in their lives. They were mostly limited to being a housewife and mother, plus a few other career choices that would never explain Veronica’s success. Apparently, Veronica got her title in her mid-20 or so. She was definitely young, judging by the portrait. Starting at the bottom is unlikely since it would consume too much time. She must have had a lucky start. I assume she was born into a wealthy family, probably of commoners, since she is considered the founder of the Ashford family. If she was born into a noble family, even a low-ranking one, I assume, they would be at least worth mentioning. And based on the origin of the name, I think her side of the family originated from England rather than Scotland. Maybe her father profited from industrialization or had a trading business. Trading with the colonies or sovereign Asian countries was lucrative back then.

Veronica was probably the only (living) child of her parents. Because of that, they were either unusually supportive, or they died early (when Veronica was about 16-18). I prefer the second possibility. It would also offer a way to escape her fate. Veronica must have been highly intelligent and received a good education. However, not to the extent DC described. Why should her parents send her to a university (assuming this is even possible) when she’s just going to become some rich dude’s wife and a mother? Realistically this would be what her parents expected of her during that time. With her parents gone, she was free to do what she wanted. Inheriting her family’s fortune and her father’s company is a good starting point and a plausible way to make even more money. Maybe she had innovative ideas, took the right risks, and was able to multiply the profit immensely within a few years. Meanwhile, she used her economic power to make friends in high positions and gain more political influence.

Linguistic skills are certainly helpful for manipulating people and in the trading business. She could have been one of those people who could sell you sand in the desert. And when you make your money by trading with other countries, speaking the local languages is an advantage. It makes you more independent since you don’t need an interpreter, and direct interactions could make trading easier. (It is possible that she spoke other languages as a ten-year-old child, but only a few and probably not that fluent.)

I don’t think Veronica was a scientist, nor that she graduated from a university. Before she became a countess, she must have put a lot of work into her business and building relationships. There was no time to study. And afterward, why should she go back to learning? She was successful without a degree. There is no reason to get one. Plus, her position, especially since she was a woman, must have been very fragile. “Friends” wouldn’t have hesitated to backstab her if she would have shown any signs of weakness. She must have been ready to defend her position and do what was necessary. What I can see, however, is that after she retired, Veronica became a hobby scientist and attended lectures at a university. According to DC, she was interested in mathematics and biology. Owning a trading business would be an easy way to get her hands on exotic plants and animals from around the world. It is also possible that she invested a good amount of money into a university. And maybe she was rewarded with an honorary title for her commitment.

Personality-wise, Veronica must have been very ambitious, even hungry for power. I also think she was manipulative and ruthless since otherwise, she wouldn’t stand a chance in a world that could turn against her in a second. Thus, Alexia and Veronica seem to have similar personalities, which makes sense.

It looks like her husband took her family name. Unusual, but it is possible that he wanted to upgrade his status. Therefore, I think she married after becoming a countess, and her husband stood below her. He could have been a wealthy commoner like her or a younger son from a lower-ranking noble family. Maybe he even was a scientist and from Scotland. Her son had red hair. It is likely that it came from his side of the family. I know she must have carried the gene too, but her hair was either natural brown or blond and dyed brown for the portrait. Henna became popular in Europe only in the late 19th century. But people used an extract of onion skin or chestnut leaves to dye their hair brown before that.

Stanley, Thomas and Arthur

I don’t have much to say about them. There is no information given except that they exist. They all seemed to be successful in what they were doing, but they did not achieve anything outstanding. Stanley and Thomas were the eldest sons. I think it was expected of them to continue the family business. Though times change, and I don’t know how long it went on. Maybe they sold it at one point and invested in something else, or at the latest, WW1 put an end to it. As with Veronica, I think it is more likely that they were businessmen rather than scientists. Stanley had enough time to visit and graduate from a university. I’m not so sure about Thomas. I think he began his studies, but if he finished them is another question. He was young when his father died, in his early 20s. Stanley wasn’t that old at the time of death. Maybe he was sick, or it was an accident. I assume Thomas had other more important duties for the time being and suspended his studies for a while or later decided he was doing well without a degree. And we shouldn’t forget he died relatively young. Based on my reconstructed timeline, his death (between 1910 and 1925) may be somehow related to WW1 (1914-1918). Though I don’t think he was a soldier nor that he died on the battlefield. In case he had a family, maybe they died along with him.

As for Arthur, as the younger twin, becoming the head of the family was probably unexpected. He was in his late 30s and must have already established his own career. Without many obligations regarding his family’s business, he was free to choose a job to his liking so he could have been a graduate scientist. It appeared to be ok for him that his son became a virologist. As a scientist himself, he may have had a better understanding of Edward’s passion.

Edward and Alexander

Edward was apparently a very passionate scientist. He even went to Africa for research when he was already in his 50s instead of settling into a desk job. It appears a bit weird to me that Edward was the most notable member of the Ashford family after Veronica. Besides the foundation of Umbrella and possible academic awards, he hasn’t achieved anything we know. Ok, the foundation of Umbrella was a huge success, but Edward died in the same year and pretty much had nothing from it.

I already wrote several things about Alexander. Right now, I can’t think of anything new. So I will just link the other posts here. Alexander’s personality Alexander’s relationship with Edward Alfred and Alexia’s backstory and how Alexander treated them

Ashford family – General notes

It is possible, even likely, that Veronica, Stanley, and Arthur had more children than the ones we know of since the family tree in the game only considered the family members that inherited the title. Other potential children were either female or younger male children or older male children who died at one point.

Rockfort Island belonged to the Ashford family before Umbrella started the construction of its facilities in the early 90s. The island is small and located in the South Pacific. It has no strategic value and probably no precious resources, and without a plane, it is hard to reach from the UK. I doubt that Veronica, Stanley, or Thomas acquired it. There is nothing they can do with a tiny piece of land at the other end of the world. Most likely, either Edward or Arthur, in his later years, purchased it somehow.

Forget what I said about Rockfort Island. @midori-laboratories (thank you again) has pointed out that this island could have been a coaling station for refueling HMS ships. Before the Panama Canal was opened in 1914, the routes around Cape Horn and through the Strait of Magellan were the shortest navigable waterways from Europe to the west coast of the American continent. An island as a place for refueling and stocking up supplies nearby would have been a valuable possession. So it was probably indeed Veronica who purchased Rockfort Island. I still think the Ashfords (we know of) didn’t live there or visited the island frequently before planes became publicly available. Therefore, Arthur or Edward would still be the first family members who could have spent more time in this place.

Research degrees, such as Doctor of Science and other higher doctorates, first appeared in the UK in the late 19th century. The Ph.D., like it is today, was introduced in 1917. Therefore, the first Ashford, who could have an actual Ph.D., is Edward.

Alfred and Alexia – Veronica Project

Ok, the whole cloning plot wasn’t thought through very well at the time, but I want to offer a reasonable explanation anyway. It’s almost ironic that the scientific progress in the last decades helped to make some sense of it.

I always doubted that Alfred and Alexia were monozygotic twins because they were genetically obviously different. I want to point out that Alexander never claimed this was the case. He just wrote twins. Of course, seeing them as monozygotic twins is one way to interpret the situation, but not the only one and certainly not the one that makes the most sense. I think Alfred was rather an early-stage experiment/prototype that never should have made it into the final stages or some kind of backup plan.

First, it is almost impossible that Alexia was the only Veronica clone Alexander had prepared. In scientific experiments, you never do things just once, and they work immediately. Creating a Veronica clone is a multi-step process. If you want to avoid going back to zero, if something goes wrong in the end, you prepare yourself. There are many things that could go wrong: the clone dies while it is still in a cellular stage, the surrogate mother has a miscarriage, the clone dies during or shortly after birth, the clone is sickly because of genetic defects, and so on. Alexander probably had at least 5 to 10 Veronica clones ready to go. Alexia was only one of them. And who says Alexia was the first one? She was the first successful one but maybe the second or third attempt. Who knows? Now, this does not only apply to the final product. Alexander would have needed lots of pretests and methods testing. He may have produced dozens and dozens of Veronica clones and “clone precursors” ranging from laboratory waste over ok, but not what he was looking for to suitable but unfinished clones.

Also, the more I’ve read about cloning, the less likely it appears to me that Alfred and Alexia were true Veronica clones. For cloning, you need an intact cell with a complete genome and an egg cell from a surrogate mother. The nucleus of the egg cell is removed, and the other cell is inserted. Then you need an electrical impulse to start the cell division. The latter part is partially described by Alexander. My problem is the first step: finding an intact cell with a complete genome in a mummified corpse. As I already said in another post, I doubt DNA can persevere well under these conditions. Maybe it is possible, but I think it is very, very unlikely.

There is another way to “clone” something. I got my inspiration from the cloning attempts of mammoths. One approach involves taking DNA from Asian elephants, cutting out genes, and replacing them with other genes to make the resulting animal more mammoth-like. Alexander could have used a similar approach. This would not only solve the problem described above, but it would also even tie the loose ends of the cloning plot together. After extracting as much DNA from Veronica’s corpse as possible, Alexander could have used his or Edward’s DNA as a base. Edward, who was still alive when the project started, would have been the better choice. He is more closely related to Veronica, and maybe scientific interests, virology specifically, have a genetic component. However, I wouldn’t be surprised if Alexander used his DNA, considering his slightly creepy attitude toward his ancestor. These clone hybrids are the closest thing to having children with Veronica he could get. In any case, everything Alexander had to do now would be cut out and replace the respective genes to create a Veronica/Edward (or Alexander) clone hybrid. The genetic difference between humans is less than 1%. Alexander doesn’t have to replace that many genes. And maybe the resulting hybrids were even more Veronica than Edward (or Alexander). DNA shearing must have existed in the RE universe in the 60s because this is how Alexander inserted the intelligence genes, right?

Alfred and Alexia being hybrids instead of true clones would explain the different hair colors. Veronica had brown hair, the twins had blonde hair. Veronica could have dyed hers brown, which is possible. But maybe the blond hair color originated from Alexander’s or Edward’s (if he was blond) DNA. The hybrid theory could also explain why Alfred is male. If the base DNA is taken from Alexander or Edward, the first attempts would only produce male clone hybrids. Alexander was so fascinated by Veronica. I think he wanted the final result to be as close as possible to her, which means a female clone would be preferable. So Alexander must have exchanged the Y for another X chromosome somehow. Although, keeping some male clones just in case the procedure doesn’t work as intended or causes problems would make sense. A male Veronica clone hybrid is still better than nothing. And he can use less valuable clones for testing purposes. Alexia having the intelligence gene while Alfred doesn’t can also be explained this way. I assume the insertion of this gene is the last step of gene editing. If Alexander had planned to use the male clones only as a backup or for testing, then that’s a step he may have skipped for (most of) them. After the gene editing, he can proceed as described above.

Anyway, I assume Alfred is the result of a flawed experimental setup. Alexander didn’t pay enough attention at one point, switched the storage vessel, and ended up with Alexia and Alfred in the same vessel, which led to using them both instead of only Alexia. It would even add an additional layer to Alexander seeing Alfred as a failure. This explanation works with one single mistake without hinging on an arrangement of spontaneous mutations, coincidences, and whatnot.

Overall, if Alexander already had access to modern or futuristic techniques (from our world) in the 1960s, then I honestly think the cloning plot isn’t even that farfetched. Of course, it’s still science fiction.

Notes:

CRISPR gene editing, which is most commonly used, was first published in 2012. The researchers Emmanuelle Charpentier and Jennifer Doudna, who work on this method, were awarded the Nobel Prize in Chemistry in 2020. There are similar methods, but they were also published after RE Code: Veronica came out.

Chromosome replacement therapy is a more recent approach to treating genetic diseases. The defective chromosome is removed and replaced with a healthy one. Y chromosomes can be replaced with X chromosomes with this technique.

Alfred and Alexia – General notes

I think Alfred didn’t study anything science-related, even if he may have been interested in it. No matter what he would achieve, Alexia would have towered over him with her achievements. Alfred never envied his sister’s intelligence, but constantly being compared to her must be tiresome. I think he either studied business administration or maybe history. At least medieval torture methods and war-related history fascinated him. He even brought an ultra-rare Wehrmacht tank.

Despite his fascination with war and the military, I doubt Alfred ever joined the British Army. He was in charge of the Antarctic base, Rockfort Island, and studied. When should he have done this? And then we have his mental state. No sane person would give this man a loaded gun, ever. It is possible that he tried and was declined, though. I think he got some training on Rockford Island along with the UBCS soldiers, at least he can fly a Harrier jet. Alfred must have brought the medals he wears on his uniform.

In the portrait puzzle, Alexia is called the true master of the family. I think this was Alfred’s personal addition to show his devotion to her. Since the title is only inherited by the male line, Alfred is the true hire. It doesn’t matter if he or Alexia was born first. Alexia could only become a countess if Alfred died. Harman never mentions her, either. And Alexia looks a bit older in her portrait than Alfred in his. Alfred, dressed as his sister, probably modeled for the painting.

It is strange that Alfred took control of the Antarctic base after Alexander disappeared and Alexia allegedly died. He was 12. But otherwise, Umbrella would have discovered Alexander and Alexia. It seems that Umbrella has lost interest in the facility after the incident with Alexia. So, it could be part of a deal. Alfred can have it, probably unofficially, until he turns 18, and in return, they build on Rockfort Island.

I don’t know what Alexia did to fake her death, but I assume it was something big, like an explosion or a massive fire that destroyed all or most of the labs. That’s the only way people wouldn’t get suspicious if they couldn’t find her body. Also, Alexia got rid of her research results this way. I think many researchers died during this incident too.

[vanillablankcanvas]

Part 9 Trolls Headcanons/ Theories/ Thoughts/ Ideas

Part1 Part2 Part3 Part4 Part5 Part6 Part7 Part8 Part10

Trolls - Hard Candy = Hard Drugs 🍭

Boom - Floyd's solo music helped Boom when he was coming out. 🏳️‍🌈

Floyd - high pain tolerance and godlike levels of patience.

Floyd - has been to rehab for hard candy, is currently 10 years sober. Now advocates for health and wellness in Pop Village.

Floyd - Broke up with several ex's when he found they were all only using him for his fame. 💔

Bruce - can and will reorganize someone else's kitchen to what he deems is more efficient.

Bruce - always the first to volunteer to babysit other Troll's kids. Not that he doesn't appreciate his own children, he just loves being about to dote on kids he can actually hold on his hip and carry in his hair. Just being able to do the little Troll things he can't do with his own giant kids.

Bruce - noone on the island knew about his 'past life' except for Brandy. (Canon?)

Clay - had to quit being the Fun Boy cold turkey so that the Putt Putt Trolls would trust in his leadership.

Clay - I imagine a running gag that random Trolls keep calling him Viva's boyfriend/husband, and he keeps trying to correct them, but he is always cut off or they immediately forget. At some point a random Troll is like "What, is Viva not good enough for you?" And he is so exhausted from fighting it, he just gives up and rolls with it.

Clay - will stay up to sunrise reading 'just one more chapter'

John Dory - when doing outdoor work, his brothers silently bet how long it takes before JD is unnecessarily shirtless.

John Dory - ends up helping with raising and handling the critters kept in the village. E.g rearing orphaned Cuddle Pups, shearing the Puffalos, breaking in the Adorabulls, taming wild flyer bugs.

John Dory - when living on his own, he would only come back to civilization just before the start of winter when it would be harder to forage and hunt food. He would spend a week or so stocking up on supplies, interact with the locals, then disappear again.

Rhonda - really likes rolling around in mud, especially after she's just been cleaned. JD > 😑

Random One - the medals that I designed for Clay and Viva's knighthood are supposed to be designed after the Troll Tree.

[gryffindorhealer]

I'm going to have to ask about Professor Kreacher! What's it about?

Thank you for the ask, @forever5hines because quite simply Kreacher is one of my favorite characters!. Professor Kreacher is a "working title" for a group of (mostly) one-shots, as well as other appearances Kreacher makes in some of my fics. It sounds better than the first title I put into the Notes-Timeline file.

Kreacher, as a character, actually experiences a redemption arc. He's this very curmudgeonly old house elf when we first meet him, in OotP. Initially, most of what we know about him comes from Sirius. Much as I like Sirius as well, his view of his family, house, and all that are in it is colored by his experiences. Still, that Kreacher lived in that house alone since his Mistress Walburga died, with only her prejudiced and close-minded ranting for conversation for the previous 10 years decidedly affected his outlook. And we see that he is, as nearly all house elves in service are, quite dedicated to preserving the House of Black. Over these three books we also learn that he does feel his duty to Harry, even though initially he doesn't like him. We discover the tragic backstory between him, Regulus, and Voldemort. And we see him respond strongly to a gift, a memento of his beloved Regulus, and Harry's promise to complete Kreacher's last quest, Regulus' order to destroy the Evil Locket.

The thought occurred to me that Harry, being the clever lad he is, begins to review his education at Hogwarts and about Wizarding Society overall. He realizes there are huge gaps in his knowledge, and comes to understand that Dumbledore's lessons about Riddle covered something more basic: know your world, and know those you need to pursue in your work (Auror). He also sees Kreacher's growing respect and fond regard for the Young Master of the House of Potter-Black (Kreacher's concept, it may not ever be called such in Wizarding Great Britain).

During the summer of 1998, Harry calls Kreacher when he and Bill Weasley are checking out Grimmauld Place. This is also the point when Harry comes to understand he needs another teacher, per the above, one with a good understanding of Magical Society and a unique viewpoint, and he commands Kreacher to be his teacher about these things, and more. Initially reluctant to do so ("Kreacher must not contradict Master. It is unheard! Impossible!"), Harry convinces him that, while doing his duties as "Professor Kreacher", he will not be committing any violations against "Master" because he will be fulfilling a (as Kreacher described to him in the books) house elf's highest calling, Masters Orders.

Some of the influences on this relationship for me are Reginald Jeeves and Bertie Wooster, and Lord Peter Whimsey and Mervyn Bunter (his valet, and both of them experienced PTSD from their experiences in The Great War). One of their first conflicts is that Harry doesn't like being called "Master", both because of his experiences with the Dursleys and from seeing how Dobbie was treated. Kreacher adamantly responds, "Kreacher must show proper respect to the Master of the House." After Harry receives the Order of Merlin First Class (which I headcanon brings a Knighthood), Harry proposes that Kreacher call him "Sir".

After stipulating that there will be some occasions, particularly while teaching, that the word "Master" must still be used because it describes a role, Kreacher grudgingly accepts the proposed referent.

I've several one-shots roughly outlined, and this relationship is glimpsed as it develops in my stories (listed chronologically for when they "happen'"," not when I wrote them) Service, Proposals (Chapter 1), When Ginny and Harry Eloped, Sort Of (last chapter), and Portrait.