Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Author's Note: Hello my beautiful readers. Have I been procrastinating writing the next installment of “Diamond Blue and Cinnamon Gold”? Perhaps a tiny, we bit, but I was procrastinating it by writing more AF ficlets, so I hope you will forgive me? The good news is that I am just missing one more silly little scene that I will tackle to the ground like Butler would with any security threat to Artemis asap. In the meantime, please enjoy this writing challenge from July/August this year (2021) on tumblr, where I had 31 title prompts to which I wrote something each day.

Technically, nothing new if you have already read them on tumblr, but Ao3 allows me to bring some order into them, and to group them under a few headings. All the stories are standalone pieces, but there is the odd one out that was definitely and unintentionally inspired by another. What else? Since this was an exercise for me to write something every day, these ficlets have only been proofread and edited by me. No beta reader, so apologies for any typos, incongruences and general oddness. It’s Wee’s weirdness. Raw and unfiltered. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Eoin Colfer owns all the characters from Artemis Fowl, I only own my imagination and the characters I have created, such as the darling Dr Sofia Massetti.

decline.

The Major groaned when he tried to open his eyes. How could eyelids hurt? How did they even dare? Forcing them open, he couldn’t tell if he had gone blind. Everything was just so bright.

He waited for someone to tell him he was dead. Or not dead. Or at least something. Instead, he had to listen to an obtrusive beeping sound next to his ear. Eventually, he heard someone stepping closer. 

“Can you hear me?” a male voice asked.

“Yes,” the Major croaked. “Where am I?”

“ICU at St Vincent University Hospital. Do you remember how you got here?"  

The Major grunted, the pictures flashing before his eyes enough for him to put the events of the last 24 hours together. Besides, there wasn’t a lot that could put him into an ICU. He had been shot. Several times. While he was protecting Artemis from a rival crime lord. For all their supposed jolly nature, Irish criminals really had a short temper. If it hadn’t been for his bulletproof vest–

"Your wife is here. He is recovering, please keep it short.”

The Major frowned, turning his head, squinting at the doctor and the woman standing next to him. It was indeed his wife, Anastasia. She sat down next to him once they were alone.

“They made me come,” she explained after a moment of silence. “Didn’t really see the point, but here we are.”

The Major nodded. She was right. Practical. He liked that about her. They hadn’t married because of love. It had been a union of family politics and necessity. They had made a good team, though, before he had to leave Yaroslavl to become a Fowl bodyguard. 

“I’ll be fine.”

“I know,” she said, about to stand. The Major lifted his arm, his fingers hesitantly brushing against her sleeve. 

“Stay for a while. Hold my hand.”

Anastasia looked at his hand as if it was a dead animal.

He almost chuckled. “It’s what married couples do… Actually, Juliet wants to hold hands with anybody.”

Reluctantly, Anastasia sank back into the chair and placed her hand in his. Rough skin against rough skin.

“You’ve become soft.”

“And you grey,” he shot back with a look at her hair. 

Anastasia’s mouth lifted into a half-smile. “So, we both aren’t as sharp as we used to be.”

The minutes stretched on. They had nothing to talk about, but the Major enjoyed her company. He enjoyed his wife to be around.

“I have a lot of respect for you,” he blurted out. “I am grateful.”

The door opened, and the nurse popped her head in. “We need–”

Anastasia nodded and got up, letting go of his hand. She paused, looking down at him with her grey eyes, opening and closing her mouth a few times. Clearing her throat, she smoothed down an imaginary crease in her jacket.

“Don’t get shot again, husband.”

squeaky.

The squeaking rope pulley swung back and forth in the gust of wind. The Major stepped to the ship’s railing, his breath coming out in white clouds. He had only stared into the pitch-black water for about ten minutes before Artemis interrupted his brooding.

“Cheer up,” the Irish businessman said, holding a steaming cup of coffee to his face. “Otherwise your facial muscles might freeze and you’ll never be able to smile again.”

The Major threw his charge a dark look.

“I realise this was a joke, sir, but I don’t find it very funny.”

Artemis rolled his eyes.

“I don’t understand how you can be so pessimistic. We have almost reached Murmansk. Everything is running smoothly. How about some optimism?”

The Major didn’t bother counting all the things that might go wrong, starting with the fact that they were entering Mafiya territory. They had been through this several times in Dublin, and it hadn’t deterred him from getting those 250,000 cans of cola to sell in Russia.

“Come inside and have some coffee with vodka,” Artemis said, stepping from one foot to the other. “It tastes disgusting, but it makes me forget that I can’t feel my toes anymore.”

Artemis’s bodyguard shook his head, about to answer, when he noticed something. The squeaking background noise that he had got used to over the last hour had stopped. The Major looked around. Kola Bay was completely calm.

Frowning, the Major studied the horizon, and squinted.

There was a tiny sparkling dot in the sky. He knew what it was, and it turned his inside into a clump of ice-cold anxiety. A rocket headed straight for their vessel. The Major knew immediately that there was no time for them to get into a lifeboat. Their chances of survival were zero. Wrong, he thought with a humourless smile as he turned to Artemis. His chances of survival were zero.

He grabbed Artemis by the jacket and hurled him over the ship’s rail. The Irish businessman didn’t even have time to splutter a protest before he hit the icy water. The Major turned back to the missile, its nose filling his entire field of vision, his last moments passing lightning fast, giving him no time to deliberate how he had spent his life.

The last thing he heard was the impact. A blast so loud that it burst his eardrums. He didn’t mind that, though, as a tremendous heat wave rolled over him, burning his fur coat and engulfing him fully.

Author's Note: Starting with the Major, one of my favourite obscure character's. Anastasia is an Original Character, who you might already know if you have read Chapter 2 of my first writing challenge or Trust Issues in which she had a minor appearance. She is usually a very rigid, aloof kind of person, but deep down... well, I don't know what's deep down, even I couldn't crack that outer shell, but I am almost certain that she is more emotional than she lets people see. According to my sources, she smuggled Juliet out of Iran after the execution of Juliet's and Butler's parents in 1988 (which is also one of my fanfictions that you can read, if you feel like some light bedtime reading, haha).  

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. Keep an eye on this fic as I will update it with the rest of the chapters throughout the following days.

Chapter Text

Author's Note: Hello my beautiful readers. I hope your day has been great so far, and you are looking forward to Chapter 2, which are two ficlets that focus on the dynamics between Butler and Juliet. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Eoin Colfer owns all the characters from Artemis Fowl, I only own my imagination and the characters I have created, such as the darling Dr Sofia Massetti.

Butler & Juliet

juvenile.

Butler stirred in his sleep. A small sliver of light had crept through the half-drawn curtains. It had wandered from his shoulders to his face, and while the warmth on his body had been welcome, the light on his face was not. Placing an arm over his eyes, he tried to go back to sleep, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to. His alarm clock would go off in a few moments, anyway.

To prove him right, it rang a second later. Butler rolled to his side, his hand landing on it, silencing it in an instant. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, watching the second hand make its way across the watch dial.

“Come in,” he called out when someone knocked on his door.

Juliet stuck her head in.

“Good morning,” she chirped and walked to the curtains, ripping them open. Butler clenched his eyes shut.

“Happy birthday!”

“Maybe at your age,” he grumbled.

“Then you probably don’t want my birthday present?” she asked innocently after climbing onto his bed, crossing her legs.

Butler lifted an eyebrow and held out a hand.

She gave him her present, wrapped in colourful paper. He could tell that it was a paperback, even before he unwrapped it. Turning it around, he read the title. Juliet bit her lip from bursting out laughing when he gave her a pointed look.

“Hilarious,” he said, while Juliet pretended to be insulted.

“It’s on the bestseller list. Very sexy too. The girl in the shop blushed and giggled almost the whole time when she recommended it to me,” she informed him with a sly grin.

Butler made a disapproving sound and Juliet laughed.

“Come on, Dom. At least give it a read. You might be… swept off your feet. Although that might not be advisable at your age.”

“Thanks, Jules,” Butler said darkly, eyeing the cover of the novel with some contempt. Juliet snatched the book out of his hands, dropping on her back and reading the back cover.

“Shall I read it to you? Your eyesight must be getting worse too.”

“No, thank you,” he growled and got up.

“But you will read it?”

“Maybe.”

“Not fair,” Juliet protested. “It’s a present!”

Butler sighed and threw her an exasperated look. “Fine, I’ll read it. Will you let it go?”

She jumped from his bed and gave him a quick hug.

“Love you, too, big brother. I’ll make breakfast,” she said, but stopped at the door.

“The steamy scene is on page 225,” she said with a grin. “In case you want to skip breakfast… for some alone time with your book.”

Too busy laughing, Juliet never had a chance of dodging the pillow aimed straight at her face.

stitches.

Juliet sat still as the doctor brought the tray with her tools and placed it on the table next to her. In all her five years alive, which Juliet considered to be two eternities, she had seen many weapons. Somehow, the doctor’s needle seemed much more frightening than all the gun cabinets of her uncles combined.

“That’s a very big needle,” Juliet said, chewing her lip.

The doctor gave Butler a stern look. “Well, maybe if your daddy had taken better car–”

Juliet’s laugh interrupted her. “That’s not my daddy. That’s my big brother!”

“Well, maybe if he had taken bett–”

“He wasn’t even around when I jumped over the banister,” Juliet interrupted her again.

The doctor looked horrified. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I am batman.”

Butler winced. “Yeah, that was my fault.”

“Your parents should–”

“My parents are dead,” Juliet interjected. She expected the doctor to gush over her ‘plight’ like old Mrs Bates in Sunday School. Having a ‘plight’ was pretty cool, because it meant you got a lot of sweeties.

The doctor, however, didn’t seem to know that she was supposed to give her sweeties. Instead, she cleaned Juliet’s forehead.

“Do you think your parents would want you to be so careless?”

Juliet shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“They wouldn’t,” the woman said. “They’d want you to be careful, and not jump over banisters.”

“Why?”

“Because you are making my job very difficult,” she said. Then she winked, and Juliet giggled, letting the doctor stitch her forehead in peace. When she was finished, she gave her a lollipop.

“You are nice,” Juliet decided. “Can I come back?"   

The doctor snorted. "Only as a medical student.”

Juliet nodded eagerly, and taking Butler’s hand, dragged him out of the hospital.

“Batman is uncool,” she said. “I want to be a doctor.”

Butler chuckled. “Sure, munchkin.”

Author's Note: I absolutely adore kid!Juliet, ever since she made her first appearance in "Saplings". I think she was a very mischievous child, causing her brother and uncles a lot of trouble... or never really stopped, in all honesty. Next up... Butler and Sofia. :-) 

Chapter Text

Author's Note: Hello my beautiful readers. I'll keep the long blabbering short today. Here is Chapter 3. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Eoin Colfer owns all the characters from Artemis Fowl, I only own my imagination and the characters I have created, such as the darling Dr Sofia Massetti.

Butler/Sofia

chalice.

Sir Domovoi to the dark forest of Brocéliande came.

His long voyage

Of 410 days brought him back

To his intended bride,

Lady Sofia.

As indeed,

An evil wizard had trapped her in a high tower.

Thus, the brave knight had vowed

To travel the land to free

His fair maiden with the wild curls.

His arduous journey had brought him from

The North and its high mountains

To the South with its crystal blue seas,

And from the West with its lush meadows,

To the East and its prosperous deserts.

He had bested

Foul beasts,

Beguiling witches,

Wicked elves,

And won the Chalice of Truth.

Now,

Finally stopping at the dark tower of Brocéliande,

He braced himself

For the hardest combat.

Unaware, however,

Was he of the immense courage of his beloved.

Single-handedly

Had she defeated the evil wizard.

Baffled was he,

Breaking the sigil at the tower’s entrance,

Seeing the sorcerer’s lifeless (and rather mangled) body.

But oh, how he rejoiced

At the sight of the sweet vision that presented itself,

Once he had climbed the steep steps to the top.

Sir Domovoi dropped to one knee, laying his sword to her feet.

“Oh fair one, behold your humble servant, Sir Domovoi. I have bested foul beasts, beguiling witches, and wicked elves to prove myself worthy of you.”

Lady Sofia carefully placed her stitch work on the table next to her.

“And have you?” she asked quietly.

Sir Domovoi blinked. “Have I–”

“Proven yourself worthy of me?”

Frowning, Sir Domovoi opened his satchel and pulled out a golden chalice. “I retrieved the Chalice of Truth for you.”

Lady Sofia pursed her lips. “Did you notice the evil wizard at the bottom of the stairs?”

“I… did.”

“I killed him. With my embroidery hoop and needle.”

The knight’s eyebrows shot up. “You… did?”

“Indeed, I did,” she said with a sour expression. “You know when? Two weeks after you left. So for the last one year, one month and three days, I have been sitting here, idle.”

She jumped up, pacing up and down in the small chamber. “Idle! Because the door was sealed and could only be opened by you!”

Sir Domovoi slowly stood, watching his damsel talking herself in a rage. He had fought many battles. Never had he encountered an angry maiden. Usually they tried to lure him into their bedchamber. The current situation was new to him, and he didn’t know what was expected of him.

“Are you upset?” he asked tentatively.

“Upset? Upset?! Yes, I am upset!” she exploded. She rushed over, punching his armour in anger, yelping when her hand connected with the solid metal. Weakly, Sir Domovoi lifted a hand. But Lady Sofia wasn’t quite done yet.

“I have been stuck in this tower for a year, a month and 15 days,” she said through gritted teeth, “while all you needed to do was stand by for a short time! No, the honourable Sir Domovoi needs to fight beguiling elves, wicked beasts, and foul witches.”

“It was actually–” the knight errant began, but closed his mouth at the dark look she shot him. “I… apologise?”

Lady Sofia rubbed her hand, crinkling her nose. “Do you think that is what I want to hear but are not sure why I am upset?”

The knight nodded helplessly.

“Would you, maybe, like a warm embrace?” he asked. He had heard that fair maidens liked that sort of thing. Lady Sofia shrugged and allowed him to wrap his arms around her. She shifted in his embrace. And shifted some more. Eventually, she sighed.

“You armour is too hard.”

“My squires are only a half-day’s ride away. They are the fastest in the realm,” the knight said. “By sundown I would gladly offer a sweeter, tenderer embrace.”

Lady Sofia took a long breath. “I assume you want to take me to your castle now?”

The knight thought hard of the right words to say. “If that is what my Lady wishes.”

“What about you being a knight errant?”

“No more,” Sir Domovoi said, and shook his head. Then he paused. “What about fighting off intruders from my castle?”

“Will that involve you crusading the Seven Seas to meet a Blue, Green, or Red Knight?” she asked suspiciously.

“Would you want to come along in such a case?” Sir Domovoi asked, his heart jumping with joy at the smile that bloomed on his Lady’s face.

“That, my dear Sir,

Might just work out fine,”

She spoke, clasping his hand,

The two of them leaving

The dark forest of Brocéliande.

This first piece was inspired by Arthurian legends and knighterrands. Ngl, I see Butler as some sort of modern knight in shining armour, and the image was too perfect not to use. It started as an epic poem but I am not known to leave Butler with a grain of dignity so of course I had to make it goofy. In all fairness, though, I am tired of the defenseless damsel in distress so I had Sofia take care of the wizard and make Butler uncomfortable. I think, he didn't mind too much. He is glad to get his squires to get that armour off him, hehe.

pop.

This is part of the Detective Au ficlets I wrote during the last writing challenge, in which Butler is a detective sargeant, catching bad guys... like Artemis.

 

Detective Sergeant Domovoi Butler was a no-nonsense kind of guy. At least, he thought so. His baby sister preferred the term “being a boring adult”. She also had the annoying habit of stealing his shirts and wearing them. It had made moving out all the easier. He had put it off for a long time, mainly because of his father’s failing health. But his line of work meant he had ungodly working hours, and he suspected those didn’t help improve his father’s condition.

Living alone had its perks, too. Apart from the absence of one little shirt-stealing munchkin, and coming and going whenever he pleased, it also meant he finally was free to sing in the shower. As loud as he liked.

Domovoi turned on the shower, the warm water running down his back when inspiration hit him. He hummed the first notes.

“Unbreak my heart,” he sang, his bass voice bouncing off the tiled walls. “Say you’ll love me again.”

Despite the sad song, Domovoi felt the day was off to a good start. How couldn’t it with him hitting all the right notes? He lathered his body with the earthy shower gel, turning the water to cold for the last ten seconds, when the smell of freshly brewed coffee came wafting into the bathroom. 

Stepping out of the shower, he finished the last lines of the song, too.

“I cried so many, many nights. Oh, unbreak my–”

“Heart. Say you love me again,” a muffled voice sang on the other side of the wall.

Domovoi froze, turning to the wall, and listening to how someone else finished his song. He cursed, fleeing the crime scene. How had he never noticed how thin the walls were?!

He got dressed, deluding himself. Maybe, possibly, whoever was on the other side had thought of the same song like him today?

He paced his kitchen, breakfast forgotten, but finally decided that he had to find out the truth. So, he waited – like a freaking criminal! – at the peephole, until he heard his neighbour’s door open, and a woman in a knee-length green dress stepped into view.

Crossing his fingers, he ripped open the door.

“Hi, neighbour,” he said as nonchalantly as he could.

The woman turned around, brushing a strand of wild hair behind her ear.

“Say,” Domovoi said, rubbing his neck. “The walls are pretty thin, aren’t they?”

She lifted her eyebrows. “A little, yes.”

“So… have you… I don’t know, heard anything out of the usual recently?”

She thought about it, but shook her head. “No. Nothing unusual.”

Domovoi let out a sigh.

“Unless you mean that guy, singing to ‘unbreak his heart, and to say they love him again’.”

She giggled. Domovoi closed his eyes, heat creeping up his neck. 

“You heard me, huh?”

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” she said with a grin, crossing her heart.

“That’s what they all say before the torture,” he said with a lazy smile, leaning against his doorframe.

“Domovoi. Dom for short,” he said, extending his hand. His neighbour shook it warmly.

“Sofia. Just Sofia. I gotta run, but,"—her eyes sparkled mischievously—”I really appreciate the song recommendations lately.”

Domovoi chuckled, releasing her hand. He watched as she left, her dress swishing alluringly around her shapely legs.

“You want to go out for dinner someday?” he called out before his bravado left him.

Sofia stopped at the door to the stairwell and laughed. 

“Are you asking, because you checked me out, or because you want to buy my silence?”

“Exactly. Where do you want to go?”

“Anam Cara. Pick me up at 8.”

“Yes, Ma'am,” he said, punching the air in triumph and thanking whoever made the walls so thin.

Okay, I might reveal just how old I am, but the song in question is this one: 

Tony Braxton - Un-break My Heart

 

dismiss.

Space-Dweeb, one of my kind readers christened one security guard at Vatican City in The Angel Conundrum and wanted him to reprise his role. So he did...

 

Today Sergio Patarelli had every reason to be happy.

For the last two years, misfortune had followed him like a dark rain cloud. Until that point, he had been a successful security employee of Vatican City, doing the night shifts at the Vatican Archives. Then, one night, his luck turned.

It started with the malfunctioning of the security cameras outside the Archives, and while he was checking on them, a woman, dressed in rags, stumbled into the street, asking for help. And then… nothing. Sergio woke up when Vito, his colleague, shook him awake, screaming about the Archives being on fire. The Archives almost burned to the ground, century old documents forever lost. They were blamed, and since the security footage was lost in the flames, they couldn’t prove that the woman actually existed.

Several months later, and with the help of an excellent therapist, Sergio accepted he had imagined the woman to elevate his bad conscience. He moved away from Rome to Ireland and rebuilt his life.

Today he had been successfully chosen for the private security team of one Artemis Fowl and his family.

Sergio shook hands with the most intimidating man he had ever seen in his life.

The mountain gave him a humourless smile.

“You can call me Butler. I am the Head of Security here. Apologies, I haven’t had the time yet to read your file, but Mr Fowl was quite impressed with your CV.”

Sergio swallowed, trying to look confident. “I’m glad to hear it. I am happy to give you an overview of my credentials.”

Butler nodded and motioned to the door. “We can talk while I show you around. I trust you are familiar with the DefSaf systems?”

Nodding, Sergio followed.

“Great. We have improved this system with several high-tech additions,” Butler continued, pointing to a discreet camera in one corner of the hall. “You will have to make yourself familiar with our IFTTT and DDoS protocols. This way.”

They stepped into the hallway and had almost crossed it when the entrance opened. Butler turned to a woman in a flowing wrap dress, his lips lifting ever so slightly.

“We will go over the file with all the people with a security clearance later, Mr Patarelli,” he said. “But there is no harm in meeting one of them now. Please meet Dr Sofia Massetti. She is… a friend of the family.”

Dr Massetti threw Butler a look that Sergio could only describe as flirty. If she was a friend of the family and not the giant’s lady friend, he was Pope John Paul II.

She held out a hand. “Buon giorno, signor Patarelli. Come va? Da dove vieni?”

Sergio frowned, taking her hand. Then it hit him, and his eyes widened. “I know you.”

Sofia shook her head. “I don’t think–” she started, before her smile dropped. She tried to pull back her hand.

“I have one of those faces, you know,” she said with a nervous chuckle.

“I knew I wasn’t crazy. You were there that night!” Sergio’s voice became louder, turning to Butler. “She was in the Archive when it burned down.”

Butler’s expression darkened. “I assure you that is not true, Mr Patarelli. Sof– Dr Massetti has never been to Rome.”

Sergio shook his head. “You are part of this, aren’t you? I am not crazy! I saw her.”

He whirled around to her. “You will go to prison. Both of you!” he shouted.

Acting instinctively, Butler compressed his carotid. Sergio slumped to the ground, unconscious. Sofia gave Butler a reproachful look.

“What kind of professional are you? Didn’t you recognise him?”

“It was dark when we broke into the Archive,” Butler said with a shrug. “Besides, do you know how many people I have to take out in a normal week?”

“So, what do we do with him?”

“Kill him?” Butler asked with a straight face.

Sofia’s mouth dropped open. Butler chuckled and threw Sergio over his shoulder.

“I am joking. We’ll get him home, of course.”

“And the whole ‘I know you’ episode?”

Butler paused for a moment. “I have a friend, working at Dublin Airport. He’ll call him, congratulate him on the successful interview, and employ him in their department.”

“That’ll never work,” Sofia said, shaking her head. “He won’t just forgot he was here.”

Butler sighed. “I’ll get Artemis to mix a light amnesiac for our friend, then.”

Sofia watched Butler climb the majestic staircase for a moment.

“This should scandalise me more than it does,” she murmured, shaking her head and following Butler to Artemis’s study.

dad.

Once upon a time, there was an overworked bodyguard, who had to protect a teenage charge, but soon found himself in the role of surrogate father and voice of reason as well. Not only was his charge of exceptional intelligence, he was also extremely jealous. So, when the bodyguard met an Italian university professor, he failed to hide his feelings from his charge.

Fearing to be left alone forever, Artemis devised a devious plan to keep Butler all for himself. He drugged his bodyguard, leaving him in a deathlike sleep, while he gave the professor, Sofia Massetti impossible tasks to master.

“First,” he said with a smug grin, when he turned up in front of her door, “you need to successfully complete my course on Quantum Physics. Once you have finished, you’ll have to learn a programming language that I have invented.”

Sofia snorted. “Is that all?”

Artemis smirked. “No, my last task,"–he handed her a stack of papers–"is to read my papers on child development. If you complete all the tasks, which you won’t, you’ll find the clues about where my bodyguard is kept. You won’t, though, so you might as well give up now. Best of luck!”

Sofia Massetti went to work, studying Quantum Physics until her dreams were filled with equations and little pale boys cackling at her for not being able to crack the code. She learned the programming language until

//life

while (no success)

{

tryAgain ();

}

if (code faulty ()) === true {

sad.cry.();

}

She persevered and fought her way through all of Artemis’s papers. And when she had almost given up on ever finishing, she finally put the clues together. Her journey ended at a cryogenic institute in London, where the employees led her to a single room, locked with a keypad.

She typed in the code and the door swung open, revealing a single bed, one giant man lying in it. Walking over to the IV that kept Butler subdued, she disconnected it. And waited.

Half an hour later, Butler came out of it.

“I don’t feel so good,” he murmured.

“A yearlong barbiturate-induced coma usually has that effect on people,” Sofia commented dryly. If Butler had been in control of his powers, he would have shouted, “A year?!”

Instead, it came out as a slur.

“I would have been faster, but Artemis’s ridiculous tasks really were a pain in the backside,” she said, recalling how she had spent the last year.

Moved to tears, Butler studied the deep dark circles under her eyes. “You love me that much?”

“Of course.” Sofia grinned. “Also, by the time I finished the Quantum Physics course, I was invested in seeing it to the end.”

Butler lifted an eyebrow. “Cheers.”

Giggling, she punched him playfully on the arm. She stopped when Artemis entered the room, and kept in one corner, his face in the shadows.

“I guess, you’ll be leaving me now, old friend?”

Butler shot Sofia a look, who shrugged. Clearing his throat, Butler slowly sat up, turning to the loneliest boy in the world.

“Artemis… why don’t you call me ‘Dad’?”

Artemis was speechless for once in his life. It took him a full minute to bring his facial features under control again. Eventually, he shrugged. “Fine, but I won’t call her 'Mom’.”

Sofia rolled her eyes. “And they lived happily ever after."  

terrace.

This was another request by someone, but this is solely an AU, haha.

Butler had finished setting the table for the Fowl’s breakfast on the terrace, the Irish sun mocking him with its sheer brightness. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the folded newspaper cut-out.

Dr Sofia Massetti

*25.05.1969        †10.08.2003

Forever missing our loved daughter and sister.

The paper had faded, soft from the times he had folded and unfolded it. Sofia beamed up at him from the grainy picture. Happy, full of confidence in him. Full of life. 

“If something happened to me, would you be sad?” she had asked over the phone a lifetime ago.

Butler had sighed. “Don’t be so morbid.”

“But would you?”

“I wouldn’t go so far,” he had answered. Like a liar.

She had known, hadn’t she? She must have known the truth. Clenching his jaw, Butler pushed the piece of paper back into his breast pocket, and stepped back inside. He was supposed to make coffee now, so it was ready by the time the Fowls started their breakfast. Instead of going into the kitchen, though, he locked himself in his bedroom.

He opened the folder on his desk, touching every single document like a charm. If it hadn’t been for Sid Commons going to New York himself, the process would have been much slower. Not any more successful, but Butler was grateful regardless.

He read the note his friend had enclosed:

I don’t know, man. It’s a mystery. One minute all is fine, the next she collapses, unresponsive. No underlying health issues, allergies, nada. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was poisoned by fairies. Sorry.

Sid.

He made himself go through the reports once more. Pretending he hadn’t seen them a thousand times already. If he deciphered every single word anew, the truth had to jump right at him at some point. Maybe then he’d be able to make up for not being with her in her last moments. Leaving her all alone, with no one to take away the fear, the confusion, the pain.

He scanned the pitch-black letters etched on the paper until he was convinced he could hear her carefree laughter one last time. Smell the peaches on her skin. Feel her fingers against his cheek.

Butler buried his face in his hand, his breath hitching in his throat.

His pager vibrated. Reluctantly, he stood, readjusting his mask of aloof professionalism. By the time he reached Artemis’s study, he was fooling the whole world again. He waited for the boy behind the laptop to finish his work.

“We will leave for Cuba tomorrow, old friend,” Artemis said, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “A new adventure. I have already texted Holly and Mulch. It’ll be just like in the old days.”

The old days…? Butler wondered, not for the first time, if…

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

The boy’s smile dropped, the glow from the laptop casting a waxy hue on his face. He didn’t answer. Butler curled his trembling hands into fists.

“I’m sorry, old friend, but she had become a liability,” Artemis said, turning back to his laptop. “Now, if you don’t mind, Earl Grey, please.”

Butler could only stare at the Irish boy. He had ripped Sofia from his life as casually as an old bandaid from a healed wound. Just like that.

And there was nothing Butler could ever do about it. The realisation hit him like a punch in the gut.  

Suddenly, there wasn’t enough air to breathe. He swayed, black spots dancing in front of his eyes.

Butler stumbled out of the study and down the corridor, his ears ringing with the distant sound of rattling chains.

Author's Note: A real mix of everything, huh? I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and hope to see you tomorrow for a Butler galore. A whole chapter filled with your favourite bodyguard/knight/surrogate father/yummy hunk of meat. Take care! 

Chapter Text

Author's Note: Hello my beautiful readers. Today, I bring to you a whole chapter focussing on Butler. Apart from the last promt (runner), the others are more or less canon-compliant and focus on Butler's time before becoming a bodyguard and afterwards. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Eoin Colfer owns all the characters from Artemis Fowl, I only own my imagination and the characters I have created.

Butler

the return.

It was a bit tricky to run around in a straitjacket, but nothing would keep Domovoi Butler from acing his exam. That determination, combined with the adrenaline surging through his veins made him dash through the mental institute in a frenzy. He had to return to his charge. In this case, Madame Ko.

“Your charge will make you do all sort of questionable things. Your job is to be prepared and to take it in stride. Now get into the straitjacket.”

Madame Ko hadn’t forbidden him from freeing himself from the restraints, but he wasn’t willing to waste precious minutes, while he was perfectly capable of causing havoc without the use of his arms. He rammed his shoulder into an approaching doctor. The man’s head hit the brick wall, out cold in an instant. Zooming down the hallway, his eyes jumped right and left. His pulse was high. Too high. He had to calm down.

“Agitation will only cause your lowest instincts to take over your mind. If that happens, you are dead.”

He took a few breaths, smelling the air. Taking the aromas apart. Judging their threat level to him. The disinfectant almost covered everything else, but there was something else. A scent. Faint, imperceptible for the untrained. But Domovoi wasn’t untrained. He was the best. A wolfish grin spread across his face as he pinpointed the sticky, nutty aroma of the fermented soybeans that Madame Ko ate for breakfast. He had figured that despite his sensei pretending that she had no vices, she had a bit of a soft spot for natto. No person on earth could eat this stuff daily just because of its health benefits. And after training himself to distinguish the taste and smell, he was certain of it.

Domovoi raced towards his charge, determined to mow down whoever and whatever tried to block his way. A nurse, armed with a scalpel, jumped at him, trying to stab at his eye. He dodged the attack and head-butted her, grunting in satisfaction at a distinctive crunching noise. Not bothering to check if she stayed down, he followed the odour and stormed into a darkened room. Madame Ko was waiting inside for him, her face hidden in shadows. He stopped a few feet away from her, towering over the petite Japanese woman.

“Very well done,” she said, sounding exactly like his sensei. But she couldn’t fool him. The natto smell wasn’t coming from the woman in front of him. This wasn’t Madame Ko. Without a second thought, he kicked the doppelgänger in the face. 

Two things happened then. The woman collapsed with a groan, and Domovoi heard a discreet ‘click’. The cocking of a gun. In an instant, he dropped to one knee, whirling around.

Bang!

A bullet whizzed over his head and hit the wall behind him.

Madame Ko dropped the still smoking gun. She nodded.

“Acceptable,” she said, and if Domovoi hadn’t already confirmed her identity by the faint odour of fermented soybeans, her comment would have.

alley.

Lance Corporal Domovoi Butler woke up in his own vomit, and for a moment he was convinced that he had been shot. Probably in the head, it felt like it was about to explode.

Somebody grabbed him by the arms and yanked him up. He groaned.

“Come on, man. Help me a bit, you are pretty heavy,” a familiar voice said.

“Am I dead?” Domovoi moaned, wishing that he was.

“No, just very, very drunk. Please hurry, we need to get back before curfew.”

“I’m not dead?” Domovoi asked, which only resulted in the person dragging him to sigh. A moment later, he was pushed against a wall. He tried to open his eyes, but the world started spinning immediately when he tried. Someone pushed a water bottle in his hand.

“Drink, man.”

The soldier did, and the spinning slowed down. And suddenly he remembered why he had started drinking in the first place.

“Can you walk back to the barrack?” his comrade, Sid asked, accepting his water bottle back. Domovoi nodded, slumping against him.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said with a slurred voice.

Sid sighed once more. “I know, but you are clearly not well. So, shut up and get moving.”

“It should’ve been me.”

“It shouldn’t have been anybody, but you drinking yourself to death is definitely not the thing to do, right now,” Sid said through gritted teeth. “Besides, the first time you get drunk should have been with me so I can take pictures.”

“You are so wise,” Domovoi said. “Why are you so wise?”

Sid almost laughed. “I thought me being an Aussie was explanation enough, but possibly because I’ve been around for a bit longer than you, kid.”

That made sense. The Australian had been in the army for several years longer. He had experienced much more.

They walked in silence, passing the back alleys of the Columbian town, and keeping in the shadows avoiding any curious onlookers.

“I should have seen it coming,” Domovoi said after a while. He should have noticed how quiet the jungle had become. How there was no wildlife around. He should have seen the rifle before Johann. He should have been the one throwing him to the ground. He should have been the one to die.

Sid didn’t answer. What was there to say? He could either disagree, which Domovoi wouldn’t believe or he’d agree, making his comrade feel even worse. They stopped a short distance away from the barracks. Sid gave him some more water.

“Think you can fake it until the drill is over?”

Domovoi squared his shoulders and nodded. He was still drunk, but the short march back to camp had been enough to fill him with hot embarrassment. A Blue Diamond drunk and passed out in the streets. If it hadn’t been for Johann, his life would have been over. If it hadn’t been for Sid, it would have been his career.

“Sid,” he said, but Sid waved it away.

“That’s what friends are for.”

blurred.

The small German town was still asleep when Lance Corporal Domovoi Butler walked down the deserted streets. Even if he had encountered anyone, they wouldn’t have been able to tell that he was a soldier in his faded jeans and nondescript jacket. They also wouldn’t have been able to tell how much his knees were shaking.

He stepped into the coffeehouse, the bell above the door announcing his arrival. The young woman behind the counter greeted him with a forlorn smile.

“Guten Morgen.”

Butler nodded his greeting and sat down at the window, watching the people pass by until the woman – girl really – stopped at his table.

“What can I get you today? We make some mean scrambled eggs,” she said, holding her notepad above her enormous belly. Butler looked up. 

“Congratulations.”

The woman laughed. “Right now, it’s more of a curse.”

“When are you, I mean, when is the–”

“In two weeks,” she said, shifting her weight with a wince. “Now, what would you like to eat?”

“Would it be,” Butler started, clearing his throat. “A piece of your Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte?”

The woman laughed once more. “For breakfast? Isn’t that a bit early?”

“It has been recommended to me.”

Her smile faltered, and understanding dawned on her face. She held the notepad to her chest, nodded, and disappeared behind the counter. Butler winced, cursing his poor choice of words. Clearly, he should have rehearsed this more.

Butler closed his eyes, listening to the sounds behind the counter. The shattering of a plate, cutlery falling to the ground, the screeching of metal against metal. He wanted to help, but he didn’t trust himself not to cause even more chaos.

Instead, he waited until she placed an enormous piece of cake in front of him.

“You are Butler,” she said, her voice shaking. Butler nodded, curling his fists under the table to keep himself from babbling like a lost child.

“I’m sorry,” he said, stumbling over the words. “It was my fault–”

“Mein Johann wrote to me,” she interrupted him. “How you got them all out of cleaning the latrines one time.”

Butler let out a strangled laugh, unable to meet her gaze. 

“I’m sorry,” he said once more, his voice thick and his tongue clumsy. "I’m sorry, I couldn't– I’m sorry.“

"Thank you for coming,” she said. Kind, but firm. She turned away. The audience was over. “Enjoy the cake.”

One day, you’ll get to try her cake, and you will fall in love with her. Too bad that she’s already my Mädchen.  

Butler stared at the cake in front of him until he became convinced that it had started to rain inside the cafe.

Guten Morgen. - Good morning.

Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte - Black Forest gâteau (lots and lots of cream and cherries and sponge cake, not good if you are on a diet! Which obviously isn’t a problem for Butler…)

Mein - My

Mädchen - girl

eerie.

Butler slammed Jane Eyre shut and sat up. He frowned. Did he smell smoke? His eyes darted to the book in his hands. No, he definitely smelled it. He stood. The time on his alarm clock read 01:10. Better check the kitchen one last time, he thought, and jogged to the ground floor. He had been right. The closer he got, the more he was convinced that something was burning.

Entering the kitchen, he turned on the light, momentarily frozen, as he processed what he was seeing. Angeline Fowl, dressed in a white nightgown, was sitting in front of the oven, watching clouds of black smoke rise from it.

Butler’s initial response was to rush over, to pull the woman from the tiled floor, and to turn off the oven. He didn’t, though, as Mrs Fowl had become rather unpredictable since Artemis Fowl Sr. had disappeared five months ago.

“Ma'am,” he said carefully, “what are you doing?”

Mrs Fowl looked up. “I am cooking, Butler. Obviously.”

She giggled. “You aren’t very bright, are you?”

Butler wished, not for the first time, that his uncles were still around. Ideally, the Major, but even the Captain would have been fine. So, he didn’t have to deal with this by himself. It seemed to him that the world had stopped making sense the moment they had left him. First, the Captain, now the Major.

“That’s great. Why don’t you let me serve it to you in the dining hall?”

“But serve them on the nice plates. We are expecting guests,” she said, waiting until he had nodded before floating out of the kitchen.

Butler bolted to the oven as soon as the ghostly form of Mrs Fowl had disappeared. He grabbed the oven mittens from the counter and pulled the baking tray out, holding his breath to not inhale the toxic fumes.

The tray landed in the sink, the water hissing as it came into contact with the unrecognisable charged clump that Angeline Fowl had cooked in the oven.

Butler leaned heavily against the counter, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Help,” he murmured to no one in particular. Nobody answered, and Butler, gritting his teeth until a muscle twitched in his jaw, grabbed a sponge and cleaned the burnt tray.

easterly.

The Butlers had served the Fowls for centuries. During that time they had stared death in the face on a daily basis. And death had stared right back.

Michail Butler, bodyguard of Horatio Fowl between 1813-1815, was the first to write about the death sight in his last will. He woke up one day and complained of a rather cold draft inside the halls of Fowl Manor. Noone else felt the same, and when brought up, Michail nodded, excused himself, and spent the rest of the day ordering his affairs. The rest of the family thought he was simply superstitious. That evening Michail Butler was shot in a surprise attack by a rival crime family.

Domovoi Butler didn’t believe in superstition or chills. He believed in escape routes and guns. So, when he woke up one summer morning, an icy draught blowing through the room, he almost laughed. He got up, as usual, took his shower, and got dressed. It was when he fastened his tie that he saw her reflection in the mirror.

“I don’t usually allow female visitors in my bedroom,” he commented dryly, not turning around. 

The woman giggled, playing with a strand of her strawberry blonde hair. “Don’t worry, I won’t compromise your honour.”

Butler lifted an eyebrow. “Why are you here, then?”

She didn’t answer, studying him for a moment.

“I came for your father and mother. Your uncle. Grandfather and great-grandmother.”

Grinning, Butler tucked the tie into his jacket. “Are you flirting with me?”

She let out a surprised laugh and came closer. Butler felt the coldness creep into his heart, but he refused to step back.

“I like you Butlers. You are so refreshing for humans,” she said, meeting his eyes in the mirror, and lifting herself onto her toes, she whispered in his ear. 

“I will come for you, too, Domovoi Butler.”

A knock on his door had Butler whip around to Artemis, dressed in his best business suit.

“Apologies, old friend, we’ll have a lunch date in London today. I realise this is short notice, but it was necessary.”

“That’s fine, Artemis. Who are we meeting?”

“An American businessman,” Artemis said. “Jon Spiro.”

Butler nodded, buttoning his jacket and following his charge. He threw one last look over his shoulder before leaving.

The room was empty.

Death is usually personified as a male figure. In Slavic cultures, however, and in Spanish-speaking countries, she is depicted as a woman, partly because the word gender is female, i.e. śmierć (in Polish), and la muerte (in Spanish) vs in other cultures in which the word gender is male, i.e. der Tod in German. 

I find that deeply fascinating, and I hope you do, too. :-)

let down.

Thick snowflakes fell on the streets of New York. Butler turned away from the spectacle outside the window to look at his charge. He blinked. Unsure if he had misheard. 

“Without me?” he asked.

Artemis sighed. 

“Believe me, Butler, I would feel much safer with you by my side. Especially since my mother has been making some rather plump hints at wanting to go ice skating.”

Artemis Fowl Sr. entered the sitting room, clearing his throat. 

“I hope you are not taking this personal.”

Butler kept a blank face. “Of course not, sir. I just don’t think it’s a good idea. You are still a well-known man.”

Artemis Fowl Sr waved the argument away. “Nonsense. I have given up all my illegal businesses. There is no target on my back. You said it yourself, remember?”

It was true. Butler had phoned his contacts with access to the criminal underworld. They had confirmed that Artemis Fowl Sr, together with the rest of his family, had dropped to the bottom of any hitmen list. That was good news. 

It wasn’t a sign that they were out of harm’s way. Even with no human criminals trying to attack the Fowls, the recent supernatural encounters they had experienced could pose another threat altogether. Not to mention all the muggers, copycats and psychos running about, crossing the Fowls’ paths in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Butler still cursed himself for telling them about the hitmen list. Immediately, Angeline Fowl insisted on taking all the family holidays they had missed in the past. Partly to spend time as a family, partly to keep Artemis Jr from scheming, Butler suspected.

He had spent the last three months protecting all three Fowls on their weekend get-aways to Venice, Paris, Berlin, Saint-Tropez and Toulouse. Butler knew Angeline would tire of his constant security checks and precautions at some point. In fact, it surprised him he hadn’t received his dismissal yet. Or at least a downgrade to Head of Security for Fowl Manor.

Artemis Fowl Sr took Butler’s silence as agreement and waved for his son to hurry. “Let’s not keep your mother waiting. Otherwise, she will come up with a new itinerary.”

Left alone, Butler sank into an armchair, rubbing his fingers over the thick and expensive cover of the armrest. He pulled his latest romance novel from his jacket pocket, staring at the cover for a long second before slowly leafing to the page he had left off.

runner.

Domovoi Butler leaned heavily on to the wall. He closed his eyes, trying to will the world to stop from spinning. It didn’t help.

“Idiot,” he groaned, cursing his foolishness.

He had been meaning to do it last month, but they had been in Italy for a business meeting with a mafioso of the ‘Ndrangheta. There had been no time or place to do it.

Great, was he blaming Artemis for not taking care of his condition now? No, he had nobody but himself to blame. It had been, what, six months since he had shifted? The longest he had ever gone. Nothing to be proud of, he chastised himself. He knew exactly how his elders would react.

Vy opasny dlya vsekh nas.

But his elders couldn’t react anymore, because they had been hunted down. To protect him and Juliet. The least he could do was to respect their sacrifice by not suddenly exploding into a bear in the middle of the day.

Butler looked out of the window, watching the sun setting on the horizon. The full moon would be up in another hour. Tonight, he’d shift. Hunt some fish. Be just like new. He rubbed a hand over his face, wiping away the sweat, stumbling to his room.

His backpack, with a change of clothes, was sitting on the bottom of his wardrobe. He shouldered it, leaving the estate in the descending nightfall. But while he usually enjoyed being in the wilderness, this night he couldn’t appreciate feeling the wind in his hair, because as soon as his lungs filled with the chilly night air, the animal in him stirred, wanting to break free.

Butler gritted his teeth, increasing his speed. Not yet. If he changed in front of people, he’d jeopardise his and Juliet’s life but also of everybody around. He couldn’t shift before reaching Eagle Crag. The woods were secluded. Hardly any human ever went there. He’d be safe there, especially in his current state. 

Butler shook his head, zooming past fields, keeping far away from the main roads until he finally reached the forest. He went deeper and deeper into the woods, but his nose was sending him confusing signals. The wind changing every few minutes didn’t help either. He stopped in a clearing, turning and sniffing the air. Was that– no, he was alone. Dropping his backpack, he steeled himself and let the animal take over.

With a suppressed cry of pain, he dropped to his knees. Shifting was no fun, especially not after having put it off for almost half a year. His bones grated against each other, expanding here, pulling there. His clothes ripped, unable to hold together under the sheer mass that kept growing and growing. 

All Butler could focus on was to breathe. He had been trained to withstand torture of any kind, plus he had shifted countless times in his life, but he’d never get used to the feeling of being ripped apart from the inside. Eventually, the constant grating stopped, and he could breathe easier. He pushed himself to his paws, shaking his silky fur.

It was then that he realised his mistake. 

The wind turned, and he smelled her. He smelled her heady fear, the sweet scent of adrenaline rushing through her veins. The earthy horror of having witnessed a human turning into a wild animal. Butler growled. Didn’t she understand that all the delicious aroma she gave off only tempted the animal to hunt her down? Of course not. She was just a human. The animal whined. Wanting to follow, hunt, grab, snatch, rip, take!

Butler growled once more, the temptation too strong. Too alluring. She had nobody but herself to blame.

Da, the animal triumphed. Nikto, krome neye samoy.

The bear took off running.

Vy opasny dlya vsekh nas. - You are a danger to us all.

Da. Nikto, krome neye samoy. - Yes, nobody but herself.

Butler is a Kamchatka brown bear, a type of bear common in Russian, and which is being hunted as a sport. Butler's clan/family was almost eradicated, one of the reason, he took Juliet and left for Ireland. I leave it to your imagination, who that woman is, who watched him turn... and what happens to her. ;-)

Author's Note: And that's us, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope to see you tomorrow for... Juliet's and Samsonetta's adventures. Take care. :-)

Chapter Text

Author's Note: Hello my beautiful readers. Today, one of my favourite obscure couples: Juliet/Samsonetta. I absolutely adore them for some reason and by God have I some headcanons. In my head, Samsonetta has a master's degree in Classic Literature and isn't interested in wrestling outside of the ring at all, and they tease each other about not knowing shit.

"How have you never read James Joyce???"

"How do you not know who John Cena is???"

I don't know if I managed to bring that across, but here we go. Please enjoy!

Disclaimer: Eoin Colfer owns all the characters from Artemis Fowl, I only own my imagination and the characters I have created.

Juliet/Samsonetta

point.

The purple clouds hung low in the Irish sky, rumbling and crackling. Any minute now, they would burst open, releasing a torrential rainfall. Juliet stopped the car outside Fowl Manor’s gate, unable to meet Samsonetta’s curious look.

“Before we go in,” Juliet said, rubbing her hands over her jeans. “You should know some things about me.”

Samsonetta chuckled. “Did you rob banks before you became a luchadora?”

“Not quite,” she said with a sigh, bracing herself. “I used to meet with the local gang in Dublin. We’d smoke weed and drink alcohol. It was pretty wild.”

“That’s your big confession?” Samsonetta asked, a mild smile playing on her lips. Lovely lips, too. Juliet shook her head, focussing at the problem at hand.

“Ah, my brother wasn’t thrilled about it. He didn’t approve of my choice of girlfriends.”

Samsonetta was quiet, the statement sinking in. Juliet could see how the penny dropped, and her heart sank.

“So, what you are trying to tell me,” she said slowly, “is that your brother is expecting a druggy who earns her money by… selling weed?”

“Oh no.” Juliet chuckled nervously. "By breaking and entering and stealing valuables.”

Feeling a flood of words bubbling up in her chest, Juliet drummed her hands on her thighs to calm herself down, recalling that night. She hardly ever fought with Dom, but that night had been bad.

She had applied her makeup when Dom had knocked on her door.

“You are going to see her again, aren’t you?” he asked. The deep furrow on his forehead spoke volumes about how he felt about her plan.

Juliet shrugged, applying extra glittery eyeshadow. She didn’t even like it that much, but she knew it bothered her big, overprotective, melodramatic brother.

“So, what if I do?”

Dom gritted his teeth. “She is trouble, and she’ll get you into trouble. I don’t want you to go.”

His words were oil on her smouldering rage. What did he know about Mary, anyway? He only thought about security and keeping Artemis safe. Clearly, he had never been in love.

“That’s too bad,” she snapped. “Because I’ll go, anyway.”

“I can make you stay,” Dom said in a warning tone. She knew he could, and it riled her up even more. Baring her teeth at him, she slammed the door shut in his face.

“I hate you!” she had screamed through the closed door.

Juliet swallowed at the memory.

“I hurt my brother pretty badly. He never mentioned it, but he is a big softie and I was really shit to him,” she said miserably. “Whenever Mary was involved… I simply couldn’t think straight. No pun intended.”

Stifling a laugh, Samsonetta reached out and placed a hand on hers.

“What happened with that chica, who brought out the worst in you?”

“I met up with Mary and her gang,” Juliet said, entwining her fingers with hers. “They planned to rob a pizza joint, and I figured Do– my brother might have been half-right about Mary ‘being trouble’. I loved her but I wasn’t a criminal, and when she wanted me to help with the burglary I went home and that was the end of us.”

They sat in silence before Juliet found the courage to ask, “Do you want me to turn around?”

“Why?” Samsonetta asked with a frown. “I can handle a protective brother. Give me five minutes with him, he’ll be putty in my hands.”

Lightning flashed across the sky, the approaching thunder booming in the distance as Juliet stared at her, mouth agape. When Samsonetta wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, she pulled her in for a kiss.

They broke apart, breathless, when her phone vibrated. Probably Dom, wondering why they were idling in front of the gates, like paparazzi.

Big heavy raindrops hit the windshield when Juliet turned on the engine with a relieved giggle. She threw Samsonetta an impressed look.

“You have no idea how much I love you right now, mi amor.”

Samsonetta brushed some imaginary dust off her shoulder and nodded thoughtfully. “I’m pretty amazing, am I not?”

the deal.

This is the continuation of the Monster Hunter AU (diamond.). One day, they will get their own fic, all focussed on fighting monsters. For sure...

Samsonetta dropped a huge travel bag on the floor. It rattled. Juliet looked up from painting her toenails bright green.

“Are you going away?”

Samsonetta placed her hands on her hips. Something that Juliet found extremely endearing. 

“No, Julieta. This is for protection. I will not have you run around, without– Don’t you roll your eyes at me!”

“Come on, babes.”

“No, don’t ‘babe’ me! I am serious. You think you are invincible, but your big brother will kill me the moment you get bested by some weird, obscure monster.”

Juliet held a hand to her chest, lifting an eyebrow. “Your confidence in me is touching.”

Samsonetta held the stare, determined not to give in like the last few times. Eventually, Juliet sighed.

“Fyi, I will not wear any garlic bulbs. That stuff is so unflattering, and it makes me look really weird.”

Beaming, Samsonetta opened the bag. “I have something much better. Look.”

She held out a bottle. Juliet took it, frowning, before giving her a disbelieving look.

“Black garlic with cod liver? Have you completely lost it?!”

“They won’t just keep away any monsters, these pills are also very healthy,” she said, reading the back of the bottle. “They are high in essential omega-3 fatty acids and are excellent sources of Vitamins A and D. Both Vitamins A and D contribute to normal immune system function, as well as to the maintenance of normal skin, bones and muscle function.”

She was clearly very satisfied with her purchase. “With our jobs, it is very important to maintain normal bone health and muscle functions. Especially, as we are moving closer to our 30s. You can’t afford to get osteoporosis, mi amor.”

Juliet made a face. “You sound like my brother. And it’s freaking scary. Stop it. I won’t smell of garlic and fish at the same time!”

Huffing, Samsonetta opened the bottle and took two tablets. “Fine, be a baby.”

“Good luck with getting anyone to kiss you now,” Juliet said with a snort.

A noise outside the house had her look up. Samsonetta went to the window. She made an indistinct sound in the back of her throat. Juliet knew that sound. It wasn’t a “Oh, what a lovely evening” kind of sound. It was a “We’ll have to do a double shift followed by five hours of bootcamp training” kind of sound.

“What is it?”

“Not like you’d want to hear my opinion, anyway.”

Juliet suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. If Samsonetta was sulking, Juliet usually ended up driving several hundred kilometres to the next biggest town, buying half a ton of chocolate conchas. Might as well bite into the sour apple. Or garlic pill, in this case.

Getting up from her bed, careful not to smudge her toenail polish, she wrapped her arms around Samsonetta’s waist.

“Is it an evil Tlahuelpuchi?”

Samsonetta threw her a dark look, but her lips already lifted into a smile. “Are you trying to be romantic?”

“Is it working?”

“Take the pills, Julieta.”

Sighing in surrender, Juliet took the bottle and swallowed two of the pills. “Happy?”

“Very. Now grab the ritual knife,” she said. “There is a Manananggal outside.”

Juliet rummaged through Samsonetta’s bag. She whooped in delight when she held the jade hilt of the knife into the light. In response, several screeches outside the window grew louder. Grinning, Juliet stood.

“Who you gonna call?”

“Tontería,” Samsonetta murmured under her breath and opened the window.

 

Mi amor - my love

conchas - (lit. translation: shells) sweet Mexican bread in the shape of seashells (hence the name)

Tlahuelpuchi - Mexican vampire

Manananggal - Philippine vampire (that can separate from their lower body. Fun!)

Tontería - foolishness, madness

Author's Note: I wish I had written more, for real. I think, they are a power couple. I want sassy Juliet, trying to impress Sam by hitting a monster with a pan over the head, haha. Hope to see you tomorrow. Take care!

Chapter Text

Author's Note: Hello my beautiful readers. Today, it's one of the alternate universes I came up with. I only wrote two during the writing challenge, but luckily (?) somebody requested a continuation of this alternate universe, which I have put into this chapter as well, because why not? Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Eoin Colfer owns all the characters from Artemis Fowl, I only own my imagination and the characters I have created.

Vampire AU

nibbles.

You can do this, girl,” Holly murmured. “It’s just a simple contract. You can totally do this.”

Bracing herself, she knocked on the door. And jumped as the door opened in an instant.

“M-Mr Fowl?” she asked the man on the other side of the door.

“Technically,“ he said with a bow, "it’s Viscount Artemis Fowl, but those titles are so outdated. Call me Artemis. Please enter, Miss Short. I invite you into my humble abode.”

Holly swallowed and stepped inside. The warmth of the sun that had given her some courage was squelched and left her shivering. A sweet, overpowering smell hung in the air. She turned to her host, taken aback by how close he stood to her.

“You are very pale,” she said before she could stop herself.

Mr Fowl nodded. “We don’t get a lot of sun in Ireland, I’m afraid. This way.”

He led her through the foyer, and Holly couldn’t shake the feeling of several pairs of eyes fixated on her. When she turned around, though, she couldn’t see anyone.

“You live by yourself, Mr Fowl?”

The man chuckled. “It feels that way sometimes.”

He walked into a large office, its walls hung with thick rugs. Holly’s eyes shot to the windows. All closed shut, no daylight shining through.

“I have brought the documents for the property purchase.”

“How very kind of you.”

He offered her a chair in front of a fireplace, and Holly sat down. Tentatively, as if the chair could come alive and eat her up.

“I wish I could offer you something. Unfortunately, my, ah, butler is indisposed. He is currently changing his diet.”

“Something not agreeing with him?” Holly asked.

“You could say that. But I am sure he will have some nibbles later.”

Odd guy, Holly thought with a forced smile. She pulled out the documents.

“So, what I need of you today, Mr Fowl, are two signatures. Here,… and here. This copy is for you. This one is for our records. And that’s pretty much it.”

Holly almost let out a relieved sigh. The faster she left this madhouse, the better. Next time, Trouble could deal with this weirdo.

“You should stay for dinner,” Artemis announced.

“That’s very kind, but I don’t want to impose.”

Mr Fowl smiled, and Holly noticed for the first time how pointed his teeth were.

“You are not imposing at all. In fact, you will be the main cou… guest.”

Holly felt the sweat running down her back. “I already have plans.”

A rumble underneath her feet made her look around. The pale man’s smile widened. Extremely pointed teeth.

“That will be my butler. He has awoken.”

Holly jumped up from her seat. “I really should be going.”

She turned and bumped her nose on a solid wall. Jumping back, she found herself face to face with the biggest man, she had ever seen. She hadn’t even heard him enter. Forcing herself to inch away and not break out in a full sprint, she noticed his bloodshot eyes.

“Artemis,” the behemoth thundered.

“Since you were unwell, I figured we could have takeaway,” Artemis said with a shrug.

Unable to keep it together any longer, Holly dashed to the door. She almost made it, too. Of course, ‘almost’ wasn’t good enough as she was about to find out when someone tackled her to the ground, their sharp fangs burying themselves deep in her neck, silencing any and all screams. 

cruel.

Holly huddled behind the dumpsters, drenched to the bone. Despite that, however, Holly didn’t feel like her head would explode any minute. It was the smell; she knew. The smell of human blood that made her mouth water. The rain subdued the smells.

She had tried to fight it for weeks now. Ever since she had woken up in the hall of that madman, Artemis Fowl. He had… done something to her, but she didn’t wait for him to explain himself. Having fled her prison, she had tried to fight off that urge to bite her family, friends, even strangers. Unwilling to accept that she was–

There were vegetarians out there, right? Hollywood made millions with that trope every year, she could make it work. She had bitten cows, rats, cats, and dogs, but the hunger only got stronger. Now, several weeks later, she wasn’t sure if she could go on for much longer.

“I knew I smelled you,” a familiar voice said.

Holly jerked her head up, glaring at the self-assured man she had been trying to get away from. He dropped a bundle to the ground and leaned against a wall.

“Let me guess ‘My life is so unfair. Why does this happen to me? I have done nothing wrong ever’?”

“You turned me into a monster!”

Pushing himself off the wall, Artemis stepped closer and crouched down.

“And you can embrace this new life or you can huddle in the dirt like a rat. Your choice.”

Holly gritted her teeth. “Why am I not satisfied by animal blood? It’s what–”

“They show in the movies?” Artemis chuckled. “Don’t believe everything you see on TV. There is no alternative. You need human blood to survive.”

“But that’s not fair,” exclaimed Holly.

“C'est la vie,” Artemis said with a shrug. “Did you think, life was fair? Sorry to break this to you, Miss Short, but bad things happen to good people.”

“No,” Holly shouted. “You happened to me!”

Artemis sighed.

“I had an inkling that you were one of those people. So, I figured I’ll make the transition easier for you,” he said, and motioned to the bundle he had dropped earlier.

“This man has killed several people, and he won’t stop. He is what you’d call 'scum’. His death would be good, no?”

Holly shook her head, but said nothing.

“You could make a real difference in the world, Miss Short. My butler wasn’t too ecstatic when I… accidentally turned him, either. But he’ll never grow old, never get sick, he can take care of the people he loves forever. And cleanse the world of evil. Isn’t that just splendid?”

The downpour had stopped, and the smell of the unconscious man made Holly’s mouth water.

Artemis stepped back. “Don’t thank me now, Miss Short. Come back in 100 years and bring some dinner, won’t you?”

His chuckle echoed in the alleyway long after Holly had quenched her thirst.

Extra: payback.

Chapter Text

Author's Note: Hello my beautiful readers. Apologies, for not posting yesterday, I was knackered from actually writing Artemis Fowl stuff, but still, unacceptable. Today, might be a bit weird. It went into a completely different direction from the first ficlet I wrote. I still hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Eoin Colfer owns all the characters from Artemis Fowl, I only own my imagination and the characters I have created.

Flatmate/Demon/Ghostbuster AU

new.

The two slices of toast jumped out of the toaster with a loud pop.

Catching both in midair, Holly let them drop onto her plate. She opened the fridge. And paused, staring. Trying to process the vast white emptiness inside. A moment later, she slammed the door shut.

“Mulch!”

When she didn’t receive an answer, she barged into her flatmate’s room, and – ignoring the smell – ripped open the curtains. The unshapely form wrapped in his blanket groaned. Holly pulled the blanket off the bed.

“Holly,” Mulch groaned. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Yes. Time for good citizens to go to work and earn some money! What happened to all the food?”

Mulch squeezed his eyes shut. “I had some late-night munchies. You know how hungry I get.”

“I just bought a new stick of butter,” she said incredulously. “What happened to the butter?”

For a second, Mulch was silent. “That was butter, huh?”

Holly hardly suppressed a scream and stormed back into the kitchen. She bit down hard on the toast as she opened the mail, their content doing nothing to improve her mood. Bills, bills, advertisement, more bills. A letter from the landlord. She stopped chewing when she read the lines.

Rent Increase Notice

She swallowed, her hands shaking as she tried to wrap her head around the number she read.

Mulch shuffled out of his room, and noticed the look on her face.

“What’s wrong?”

Wordlessly, she held the letter out to him. Mulch came closer, his eyes creeping over the page. Then he made a face. “Is that legal?”

“Does it matter?” Holly asked flatly. “There are enough people, willing to pay that price.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “There is no way, we can afford that. We’ll have to move out… I’ll have to move back with my parents.”

“That won’t happen,” Mulch said, and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I think, I have an idea.”

“No, Mulch,” Holly said, wiping a hand over her face. “I am a police officer. I don’t want to be involved in anything illegal.”

Mulch grinned. “C'mon Hols. Not everything I do is illegal. Trust me. It’ll be alright.”

Holly wasn’t convinced. “You promise it won’t be illegal?”

“Yeah,” he gave her a cheerful grin. “I promise I won’t do anything illegal.”

nypd (Not your personal demon).

The air in the small room was heavy with the smell of brimstone and incense. Holly frowned, but completed the chalk sign on the floor.

“This is crazy, Mulch. Why can’t we just go trick-or-treating?”

Mulch stuck his piece of chalk behind his ear.

“Because this is way cooler, duh! We can still get sweets once we have a freaking demon as our pet.”

Rolling her eyes, Holly sat on the floor, crossing her legs.

“If it works,” she murmured.

“Of course, it’ll work. The old man with the long beard said that the book,"–he held up the thick tome–"was genuine. Why would he try to trick me?”

Holly made a face. “You really want me to list you the reasons someone would trick you?”

Mulch ignored his friend, stepping out of his own chalk circle, walking around the bigger he had drawn on the floor. His latest obsession with the supernatural worried Holly. She was used to Mulch getting some mad ideas in his head. She had accepted his failed entrepreneur business of selling gorgonzola sandwiches to tourists in the city, tolerating the smell of old feet in the flat for almost half a year. Or the time when he bred crayfish in the bathtub? She had endured that, too. This? Was simply creepy. But perhaps, if this experiment failed, they could worry about how to pay their rent again.

Mulch had finished his inspection of the sigil on the floor and stepped back into his own circle.

“Remember what you have to say?” he asked with an excited grin.

Holly suppressed a sigh. “Obey my will, demon. Your will belongs to me. Yadda, yadda, yadda.”

“No, not that last–”

“I know! Just start, will you?”

Mulch murmured something under his breath before reciting the words printed on the page. 

Holly had to give it to the book’s author, they really had put some effort into making it sound authentic. The words Mulch intoned sounded demonic, a lot of guttural syllables and harsh endings. If this had been the real deal, she’d be terrified.

Mulch finished his spell and waited. Nothing happened.

“See?” Holly said. “Told you–”

“Wait, wait. Look!”

Holly glanced to the larger circle, her eyes growing bigger by the second as she watched the runes on the floor glowing. Two glimmering eyes appeared out of thin air.

“Who is summoning me?”

Gasping for breath, Holly stammered, but Mulch jumped in. “Ha, demon, we are not stupid and tell you our names. We have summoned you to do our bidding.”

A mouth filled with a row of sparkling white teeth appeared underneath those piercing eyes. “Very well, master. You have summoned a demon. Well done. But you can’t make me do anything without knowing my–”

“Obey me, Artemis, foul demon of the Irish Bog!”

The demon ground his teeth, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. The rest of the demon appeared, its form that of a puny teenager in an expensive suit, hair gelled back. Truly an otherworldly apparition.

“What do you want, imbecile?”

Mulch shot Holly a triumphant look as if to say, “See? Told you.”

“Right, Arty,” Mulch said, “I want you to rob a bank.”

“What?!” Holly shouted. “You promised me not to do anything illegal.”

“And I am not. Arty will.”

The demon grinned. “Is that all?”

“No.” Mulch shook his head, pulling out a piece of paper, reading it out loud.

“I want you to rob the Royal Bank on King’s Street without getting caught and without making it known by spoken word, written or otherwise indicated that we sent you. You will only steal real uncounted banknotes and bring them safely back to this place with no detours, and again letting no one known by spoken word, written or otherwise indicated what you are carrying.”

Holly kept staring at her friend, but the demon’s face darkened by the second. He tsked and vanished in a green cloud of smoke. Mulch closed the tome and gave Holly a thumbs up.

“Told you I’d take care of it. Now we wait and be billionaires in about ten minutes.”

Holly wasn’t convinced. It sounded too good to be true.

She would be right.

kidnapped.

The door of the abandoned mansion creaked open. Mulch pulled his Portable Demon Containment Unit over the threshold, the noise announcing their arrival.

“Do you have to make so much noise?” Holly hissed, turning to him.

“The Portable Demon Containment Unit is heavy.”

“It’s a vacuum cleaner, Mulch!” she said exasperatedly. “A vacuum cleaner. Why do I keep letting you do these things? I am a police officer, and I let my simple-minded flatmate deal with a matter of life and death.”

“I’ll ignore all those mean things you just said there,” he said. “Yes, it’s a former vacuum cleaner, but I modified it to get us rid of the demon.”

He left out the fact that if he had read out the summoning spell correctly, they wouldn’t be in the current situation of having to get rid of said demon. Who could have known that summoning a demon was harder than it looked on TV?

Mulch had been convinced he had done everything correctly, making his command as clear as possible, thinking of any way that the demon could misinterpret it. Artemis, however, was clever, and had found a way, regardless.

Now, he felt bad for getting Holly involved. If it had been just him, it wouldn’t have been that bad, but she didn’t deserve to be hunted by the entire police, her face broadcast on national TV. But not all was lost. If they caught the demon, they could get him to reverse everything back to normal. Plus the 5 billion banknotes that they were entitled to, of course. Plus interest for their troubles.

Mulch handed Holly a talisman. “All will be well, Holly. Wear this, and just stay close. I’ll protect you.”

Holly snatched the necklace from Mulch’s hands and put it on. “Protect me, my ass. I’ll protect you! Now, where is the demon?”

“You mean me?” a silky voice asked behind them.

Mulch and Holly whirled around to Artemis, his eyes sparkling maliciously.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he said, opening his arms wide. “You like? It was the place of a marvellous murder a few years ago. A woman lost her mind and killed her entire family in one night.”

Holly brought her fists up, ready to fight the demon if he tried to attack them. He didn’t. He pointed behind him.

“You should see the kitchen. That’s where she stabbed the butler. A true masterpiece. Lots of splattering. Scenes of murder are so peaceful, wouldn’t you agree?”

“You are sick,” Holly spat out.

Artemis beamed. “Thank you. You are not too bad yourself. A bit repressed, maybe. Is that because the whole country is looking for you?”

Gritting her teeth, Holly turned to Mulch. “Alright, I have had enough, let’s get rid of him.”

Artemis watched the two with mild amusement as they pottered about the modified vacuum cleaner.

“Would you like me to scream and pretend that this really scares me?” he chuckled.

Mulch pointed the mouthpiece at the demon, and with a daring grin, he punched the switch on the vacuum cleaner. It rattled, coughed, shook… and died. Mulch’s grin fell slightly. He slapped the casing. Nothing. The vacuum cleaner stayed dead.

Artemis smirked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Well, I give you full marks on presentation. Execution-wise, though? Three out of ten.”

“I really don’t know why this didn’t work,” Mulch murmured, shaking the tube. He started sweating, shooting the demon a look. Artemis’s smile became indulgent.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Beg me for your life. If you entertain me, I might let you live.”

“We will never beg,” Holly said. “Fight me like a man. Let the stronger person win.”

Artemis laughed. “How imaginative. I salute your honour, girl. There is just one problem.”

The form of the teenager wavered, slowly becoming transparent.

“I am no man.”

And with that, the demon drove into Mulch, possessing his body.

Author's Note: I told you, it'll get weird, haha. Okay, we are almost done. Only two more chapters left, and next chapter will mostly focus on our most famous criminal mastermind, Artemis Fowl. See you then. Take care!

Chapter Text

Author's Note: Hello my beautiful readers. We are almost there, and I can't believe it but these prompts are already twice as long as the last writing challenge. Has this author no social life? The answer is 'no', haha. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, all focussing around Artemis, and most of them just him trying to navigate life... ho boy!

Disclaimer: Eoin Colfer owns all the characters from Artemis Fowl, I only own my imagination and the characters I have created.

Artemis Fowl

dunked.

Of course, Butler could have dealt with the problem. He could have slapped them so hard that they didn’t remember their names anymore. Butler wouldn’t have been comfortable with it, but he would have obeyed. 

It had been his initial plan. When his hair was dripping wet, and everything around him tinted in blood-red vengeance. His fingers had hovered over the speed-dial key, ready to release his wrath. Artemis Fowl II, however, was more than that. So, instead, he locked himself in his room, and began to scheme. 

One week later, he sat in the very back of his chemistry class, hacking away at his laptop’s keyboard. Ms Fraser kept shooting him nervous glances, but for once, he wasn’t interested in pointing out her shortcomings.

Michael O'Shaughnessy turned around to him, a cocky smile on his lips.

“Hey, Fowl. Guess, who’s gonna get dunked today?”

Artemis finally looked up, gracing him with his signature vampire smile. 

“I don’t know, O'Shaughnessy. But I can tell you, who will not be returning to this school next year.”

Michael’s grin dropped. He cracked his fingers. “You are dead, Fowl.”

Artemis’s smile widened, and he pressed a single button on his laptop before closing it. Then he put on his safety glasses and leaned back in his chair.

“Artemis, we aren’t doing any experiments. You don’t need your googles,” Ms Fraser said with a nervous laugh. 

“Don’t mind me, Miss,” Artemis said. “Just continue with your class.”

Some of the more prudent boys snatched their own safety glasses from the workbenches and put them on.

“O-okay,” Ms Fraser, completely spooked, nodded. “Please take out your books and go to page–”

Her command was interrupted by a load bang and a yellow cloud of smoke rising around Michael. A moment later, the pungent smell of rotten eggs spread across the room. Ms Fraser rushed to the howling and writhing boy on the floor. 

“What happened?” she shrieked. Then her head snapped up to stare at Artemis in horror. “What have you done?!”

Artemis had an almost angelic look on his face. 

“Nothing, Miss. I am just sitting here,” he said, his lips twitching. “If I had to guess, I’d say that there has been a minor sulphur explosion inside Michael’s bag. Very unfortunate.”

He stopped himself when his phone vibrated. “If you’d excuse me, Miss, I am getting a very important phone call in.”

He flipped his phone open, and putting it to his ear, left the classroom.

“I take it, the takeover run smoothly, Butler?”

“Yes, Artemis,” his bodyguard said, hesitant. “May I ask, why O'Shaughnessy Gym Equipment Corporation?”

“Why not?” Artemis asked innocently. “It’s never too late to pick up a sport, no? Did Mr O'Shaughnessy get my message?" 

"Yes, although, I am still not 100% sure, what you me–”

“Nevermind that, Butler. As long as he got it.”

Artemis disconnected the call, smirking, as the message for Mr O'Shaughnessy flashed up on his phone screen.

The rumours of a takeover swirling around? I am afraid they weren’t rumours.

canned.

Artemis pressed the intercom button before he remembered no one was there to answer it. Gritting his teeth, he jumped up and rushed to the door. On the very day that Butler had his day off. Why did the manservant have to have a day off, anyway? It wasn’t like he had any hobbies, apart from keeping him safe. 

Artemis hurried down the staircase, deciding to scrap any holidays for Butler forever. It just asked for disaster, to let Butler do… whatever he did. He could spend his free time training. Meanwhile, he, Artemis Fowl II, genius criminal mastermind, was in serious trouble. 

He came to an abrupt stop in the kitchen door, his eyes darting from one side to the other. This was unknown territory for him. Should he wait for Butler to return? His vision became blurry. No, this was a matter of life and death. There was no time to be lost!

Clenching his trembling fingers to a fist, Artemis focused on stumbling to the first cupboard, opening it wide. He rummaged through the contents and almost let out a sob. It wasn’t there. His heartbeat was slowing down, and he knew he was running out of time. With a frustrated growl, he shoved bowls and plates aside. It had to be there.

The boy ripped open another cupboard, wild eyes jumping over the contents. Then he saw it. A weak but triumphant grin spread across his face. He pulled the object into the kitchen light, Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus from The Triumph of Time and Truth oratorio suddenly playing somewhere. With his last remaining strength, he dragged himself to the counter and pulled one tiny silver spoon from the drawer. 

It took him a second to tear open the can of caviar – his fingers were shaking so badly – but once he had succeeded, he took a big spoonful of the shiny, glistening, exquisitely salty delicacy. 

Artemis Fowl II let out a satisfied sigh. He had successfully averted the crisis.

indoor plant.

It was a majestic plant. Jade-coloured leaves, strong and resilient. Had been. On the day, Juliet had gifted it to Artemis as a housewarming gift for his first own flat. Today, three months later, it was only a shadow of itself.

Juliet crouched next to it, a look of pure horror on her face. Artemis studied her from his desk. “I told you, I am not a gardener.”

“How did you manage to kill it, though?” Juliet asked. “It hardly needs any water and loves to stay inside as much as you do.”

“It was a mistake to give it to me.”

“That’s not what I asked you,” she growled.

Artemis kept typing on his keyboard, trying to sound nonchalant. “Does it matter?”

“Artemis…”

“I might have watered it with cold coffee, instead of water,” he admitted. “Accidentally.”

Juliet cradled the pot in her hands and stood.

“How often?” she asked, pushing the dead plant in his face. “How often, Artemis Fowl?”

“Every day?” Artemis swallowed, the look on her face slightly unnerving. 

“I told you I am not a gardener,” he called out after her as she rushed out of the room, unable to shake the feeling that he was about to witness Juliet’s world famous suplex once she had taken care of that cursed plant.

confused.

Holly paced the floor of Fowl Manor’s meeting room, while Artemis tapped his fingers on the mahogany table.

“Where is he?” he asked, checking his watch for the third time in as many minutes. Holly stopped her pacing.

“Nevermind that. What could be so important that he made us all meet? He sounded serious.”

Before Artemis could answer, the door opened and a stone-faced Mulch strode in, followed by Butler.

“Are you sure you don’t want to eat anything?” the bodyguard asked, a deep furrow on his brow.

“No time,” Mulch said, plopping on a chair and making it creak under his weight.  

Holly drew nearer. “What is it, Mulch? You are freaking me out.”

“Good. This is serious, you guys. I don't–”

He got interrupted when Juliet burst through the doors. Butler’s eyebrows shot up.

“I came as soon as I got Mulch’s message,” she said, out of breath. Mulch nodded gravely and pulled an USB stick out of his jacket. 

“Before I give you this,” Mulch announced. “The images on this are pretty graphic and disturbing.”

Artemis nodded and reached for the flash drive.

“Maybe I should view the content first,” Butler said. He had the military background and could handle any distressing material, but the boy shook his head, pushing the flash drive into the slot of his laptop. 

“I can handle it, old friend,” he said, clicking on the single video file that popped open on the screen. 

The video started with a reporter, staring into the camera and stumbling over her words.

“–the worst tragedy in the last 50 years! We don’t at this point in time–”

Holly and Artemis leaned closer to the screen, listening to the reporter. Butler squinted his eyes, trying to determine where the reporter was.

Suddenly, the scene changed to some sort of warehouse. The camera panned out and focussed on a dancing man with strawberry blonde hair wearing a trench coat, the tunes of an 80s song blasting through the speakers.

“Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down!" 

Artemis paused, frowning, opening and closing his mouth at a loss for words. The sound of a camera click had him snap up his head.

Juliet burst out laughing and dropped her phone in her lap. Mulch guffawed and repeatedly slapped a hand on his leg. 

"What even is that?” Artemis asked, turning to Holly with a questioning look. She shrugged, her lips turning into a thin line.

“Mulch,” she said through gritted teeth, but the dwarf only laughed harder. He fell on the floor, and unable to control himself, let out an enormous fart. 

Juliet shrieked, holding her sides, tears running down her cheeks.

“Your… your faces,” she gasped, stomping a foot on the floor.

Butler lifted an eyebrow, not at all amused. "That was uncalled for.“

But his criticism fell on deaf ears as Juliet and Mulch high-fived each other, unable to calm down for another hour

undeterred.

Artemis Fowl and Butler had a stalker. It had started about four months ago that Butler had noticed her. She was good, too. Cautious. Never getting too close. Disappearing whenever it got too dangerous for her. But while it was easy to keep her from the premises of Fowl Manor, she had an annoying habit of tailing them whenever they went on business trips. 

Butler suppressed a groan when he noticed her in the crowd that afternoon. How did she always know where they would be? Artemis had told him today, they’d be in Edinburgh, and she had already tracked them down. He’d recognise her black leather jacket anywhere. Big sunglasses covered half her face. Rather on the nose, Butler thought with a roll of his eyes and a look into the cloudy sky. 

“It’s her. Again. Permission to shoot?”

Artemis sighed. “No, old friend. We are in a rather public space. Besides, don’t forget that she has taken precautions in such a case. Any lead in that matter?”

Butler shook his head. “We are getting close, though.”

They turned into Princes Street Gardens, sitting down outside of a cafe next to a thick hedge of roses. Once they had been served, Artemis waved her closer. He waited until the woman stopped in front of their table.

“I believe you are shadowing us, Miss,” he said without greeting. “I don’t care for it much. So, how about I offer you one exclusive interview with me and you stop this ridiculous charade?”

The short woman grabbed a chair and sat down. The jewelled stud in her nose caught the light, sparkling excitedly. “For real? I can ask any question?”

“I don’t think, you will learn anything new that my biographer hasn’t already found out. So, try to be a bit more creative, would you?”

“I am not interested in you, Master Fowl,” she said, taking off her sunglasses. “I want an interview with your bodyguard.”

Artemis blinked. “With Butler?”

The woman pulled a recorder out of her bag and turned it on. “Exactly. So, Mr Butler. In the name of my readers, thank you so much for agreeing to this interview,” she said, flashing them a grin. 

“My name is, well, I can’t tell you my real name. Safety precautions… for my own safety, you understand. Call me Weeinterpreter or Wee. Both is fine. Hi!”

Artemis lifted an eyebrow. “You… don’t want to know anything about my less legitimate business deals?”

Wee frowned. “Nah. So, Mr Butler. I have done a bit of research. You trained unde–”

“No comment,” Butler growled.

“Interesting.” Wee made a few notes in her notepad. “You have been recently spotted in Vatican City. Can you confirm this?”

“No comment.”

“What about the rumour of you climbing the facade of Sothebyne’s auction house last week?”

Artemis abruptly stood, giving Butler a subtle sign. The bodyguard came around the table and gripped the unfortunate reporter by the collar. 

“This interview is over.”

“But I haven’t even started yet,” Wee protested. “Mr Butler, are you currently in a relationship?”

“No comment,” he barked before flinging her over and into the hedge. Artemis buttoned his jacket, and the duo left the cafe before the intrusive reporter freed herself out of the hedge.

“Call me,” Wee called out after them, ignoring the baffled looks of the cafe’s patrons. She held the recorder close to her chest. 

"Today has been a delightful day, my dear readers. Let me tell you all about how I befriended the great Mr Butler in my column Wee’s Weekly Wonders!" 

bulb.

This one is an AU, and just a weird idea I had one day. What if...?

The blast of the detonation shattered the windows on the first floor. Butler threw Artemis on the ground, shielding him with his massive back.

“We have to leave,” Artemis said needlessly. Butler nodded.

“Stay here, Artemis.”

Artemis tried to protest. “But–”

“No, Artemis. Opal has planned this, and I will not put you in danger. Please trust my experience and stay here.”

The boy swallowed and nodded. “Very well, old friend.”

He watched his bodyguard crawl over the floor, littered with shards. Odd, he thought. Why would Opal choose such a plump attack? 

It hit him then. It was exactly what she wanted them to do. Split up. So she could get to Butler. Artemis’s eyes widened.

“It’s a trap,” he shouted at the GI Joe doll in his hand.

Opal stepped through a shattered window.

“I will protect you,” Artemis said, lowering his voice to a deep grumble, holding the doll in front of his face and hitting her with it. Opal snatched the doll from Artemis’s hands.

“Enough, Artemis. It’s time for your medication.”

Artemis crossed his arms in front of his chest, glaring at the tall woman in the white lab coat.

“You won’t get away with this, Opal. You can drug me, but my loyal bodyguard will find me.”

She sighed, her eyes roaming over the dolls Artemis had lined up in one corner. The naked bulb on the ceiling threw eerie shadows over them. She suppressed a shudder. Of all the coping mechanisms the grieving boy could have chosen, it had to be dolls. The situation was getting out of hand.

The night guard, Jon Spiro, had reported how Artemis kept threatening to hunt him down, screeching in different voices at the poor man. Opal had hoped that the boy would eventually grow out of it, but the way she kept entertaining the boy’s delusions seemed to make it worse. Perhaps it was time she asked her doctoral supervisor for help. Dr Ark Sool was a world-renowned expert in child psychology, he’d have a few ideas on how to help.

She offered Artemis some truffles. “Very well, Artemis. I brought you some chocolate.”

“Ha, I bet you are still inconsolable about the last time, me and my trusted fairy friend ate all of your truffles.”

The woman placed his action figure in her pocket. “Indeed, Artemis. You and Holly really showed me back then. I see you tomorrow.”

“You are seeing Mister Diggums now, aren’t you?”

Opal paused, cursing her oversight. She should have never let the two meet. Mulch Diggums wasn’t just a kleptomaniac, he was also a pathological liar. He had probably told the boy he was Napoleon or something similarly ridiculous. She had to have a serious word with him.

“Send him my regards,” Artemis said with a smirk.

Yep, definitely Napoleon, Opal thought.

Gritting her teeth, she left the room, hurrying down the long corridor to her next patient.

Author's Note: One more chapter and we are done! In the meantime, please take care and I hope to see you tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Author's Note: Hello my beautiful readers. It's finished! The last two prompts didn't really fit into any of the other headings, so they stand on their own. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Eoin Colfer owns all the characters from Artemis Fowl, I only own my imagination and the characters I have created.

Root & Vinyaya & Holly & Trouble

grafitti.

Commander Julius Root had counted to one thousand. His therapist had advised him to do that when he got angry. Root had shouted at the unfortunate gremlin and had left the office. Clearly, it had been a foolish idea. Thank the Gods, he hadn’t paid for that charlatan. Gritting his teeth, Root tried to sit up, but the bonds around his hands and ankles stopped him. He fell back, glaring at his depressing cell, the walls filled with gremlin graffiti.

Curse those criminals, Root thought with a grunt. Why was this stuff always happening when he went into the field? Back when he was a captain, he would have smelled the ambush five miles against the wind.

A sound to his right made him pause. Footsteps. He lifted himself to his knees to see who the footsteps belonged to. The sight almost made him sob in relief. Wing Commander Raine Vinyáya and Captain Holly Short.

Vinyáya stopped in front of the bars of his cell, studying him. Her eyes sparkled. “Didn’t know you were into bondage, Julius.”

Root’s face coloured. “Haha, very funny. Some help?”

“I don’t know. I rather prefer you this way.”

Root spluttered incomprehensibly. Vinyáya grinned.

“Tell you what, I free you if you finally ask me out for dinner. I am sick of cooking for myself.”

Root’s face turned a dark shade of purple. “This is hardly the time,” he said through clenched teeth.

“I think it’s the best time,” she said airily.

Holly grimaced, her eyes darting to the way she came from.

“Wing Commander, if you don’t mind, maybe I should patrol the premises. See, if Trouble needs some help?”

“Absolutely not, Captain,” she said, giving Holly a playful wink. “This is a valuable lesson in Human Resource Management. You should watch and learn.”

Root began counting again. This was not happening. “Wing Comman-”

Vinyáya turned to Holly. “Ah well, maybe we should both patrol the premises.”

“Will you have dinner with me, Raine?” Root barked. The last syllable stuck in his throat when Vinyáya whirled around and shot the lock clean off. She stepped into the cell with a steely-eyed smile.

“Why, I’d love to, Julius. Let me help you out of your shackles.”

Root shot first her a dark look, then Holly, who was staring at her boots.

“If any of you ever talk about this…”

believe me.

Babies cried, people fought in between taking pictures of the sights, and the kid behind her kicked her headrest repeatedly. All in all, just a typical Wednesday for Holly Short. Gritting her teeth, she squeezed the microphone in her hand, pretending it was the kid’s neck.

“And on the left you’ll see Dublin Castle. It dates back to the 13th century. You might have seen it in movies, most notably Michael Collins with Liam Neeson.”

“Oh look, Timmy. Look at this quaint little castle. Isn’t it cute?!” a lady asked for the whole bus to hear. Her husband snorted.

“More like a dump. Say, Miss, don’t you have any funding to refurbish it properly?”

Holly ignored the disruptive couple doing her spiel. 

“Michael Collins was the leading figure in the early 20th century struggle for Irish independence. I will tell you more about this hero once we have passed the General Post Office, an important historical location during the Easter Rising.”

The bus driver, Trouble, gave her a sign and directed the bus to their usual parking spot.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are very lucky today. Our photo stop is free, so we’ll take five minutes for you to take a picture of the castle. Just five minutes, please, so we keep to our schedule. A five-minute stop at the castle.”

She had just turned off her microphone when the lady leaned forward. “How long are we stopping here?”

Holly shot Trouble a telling look, but turned around with a smile. “Just five minutes.”

“Why are we stopping, anyway?” the lady’s husband asked loudly.

“So you can take a picture of the castle, sir,” Holly said through gritted teeth, her smile glued to her face.

The kid behind her tapped her on the head.

“Do you have Wi-Fi on the bus?” he asked.

Holly shook her head.

“What about USB charging points?”

Again, Holly shook her head.

“This trip sucks. Dublin sucks ass,” the boy exclaimed.

Holly shot a discreet look at her watch. Quarter past 11. Another five hours. She could do that. She had already earned 20 euros. Just be nice, she told herself. Think of the tips. Anything for the tips. So, she swallowed her comment and jumped off the bus a short distance away from the castle.

The lady gushed over how much smaller the castle looked up close, while her husband pulled Holly to the side.

“You know, Ireland should be part of the United Kingdom. If you’d only let us help, we could help you so much with some proper funding from England.”

Holly’s eyebrows shot into the air. 

“Interesting theory,” she said, red spots appeared on her face.

“We could really help you, get this country back on track,” the guy continued. 

His wife giggled and took his hand. 

“Oh Timmy, trying to solve the world’s problems.”

Holly bit her tongue and looked at her watch. “We need to get going, I’m afraid, but it was great talking to you.”

The boy stopped next to her. “Why don’t you have Wi-Fi on the bus? That’s so backwards. I want to have Wi-Fi.”

Holly was about to ignore him, but the temptation was too strong. She bent down until she was nose to nose to him. 

“That’s because the fairies used to hunt down anyone with a phone.”

The boy frowned. “Fairies aren’t real.”

Smirking, Holly looked over his shoulder. “Funny, I can see five over there, watching you. They look hungry. For little English boys.”

The boy shot a look over his shoulder before dashing back onto the bus. Holly shrugged when she caught Trouble’s amused grin.

“Feck off and drive, Trubs.”

Chuckling, Trouble started the bus again.

Author's Note: What can I say...? The first prompt... well, honestly, I just think Vinyáya is a strong woman, and she would at some point just take matters into her own hands. And the second prompt... I am not saying they were inspired by my work as a tour guide, but I am not saying it wasn't. ;-)

I hope you enjoyed these little snippets and if you do, please come back soon when the new part of "Diamond Blue and Cinnamon Gold" is coming out. Until then, take care!