Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Author's Note: Hello my beautiful readers. While I keep you waiting for the next installment of “Diamond Blue and Cinnamon Gold”, I figured I could sweeten your waiting time with some other reading material. This is a writing challenge I did in April this year (2021) on tumblr, where I had 30 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 my darling Dr Sofia Massetti.

The LEP

wind.

Captain Julius Root was about to get himself promoted. He didn’t know that yet. Otherwise, he might have decided to not give his very best on this occasion.

Zipping through the crisp night air of France, he scanned the trenches underneath him.

“Check in,” he muttered into his mic.

His colleagues answered, all in the negative.

Julius gritted his teeth. They still hadn’t located the runner, a criminal dwarf. He checked the time. Two hours until dawn and knowing the Mud People, they could start their attacks any minute now. The confrontations had only increased over the last few weeks. They always did in the end.

“Captain,” Corporal Potts’ voice crackled in the earpiece. “Possible match. 3 o’clock.”

Julius lowered himself several feet, getting closer to the spot his corporal had pointed out. A small figure was trying to free his leg out of a snare. Bingo. Julius grinned.

“Well done, Corporal. Let’s get him out of here and below ground, before the Mud Men bash in their heads aga-”

“Sir,” Corporal Potts said, his voice hesitant. “We have a problem.”

Julius cursed.

Alarmed by the movements around the snare, two dogs had come closer, sniffing the ground. There was no way they could mindwipe the Mud Men in the middle of a battlefield, if they discovered the dwarf.

Julius unsheathed his blaster.

“Cover me,” he growled and swooped down.

thousand.

Holly kept close to the wall. She crossed her arms. And uncrossed them. She pushed her hands into her pockets. And pulled them out again. In the end, she placed them behind her back. She had seen that in a movie once. This seemed to be a moment for such a power stance.

A stocky elf and a sprite passed her.

“The flying instructor is a real babe, I’ve heard. She’ll be like butter in my hands, if you know what I mean, Kelp,” the sprite said, nudging his companion in the side.

Before he could go into any detail on how he was planning to do that, though, a bell signalled the candidates that the assembly was about to start.

Holly hurried after the odd pair, lining up in rank and file next to the sprite. Not a second later, Wing Commander Vinyáya strode onto the platform. She let her eyes wander over the crowd.

“Welcome to your training, cadets,” she said, a sour smile on her face. “I’ll make this short as most of you won’t make it past the next few weeks, anyway.”

The sprite next to Holly swallowed.

Vinyáya threw a look at the agenda and made a disapproving sound.

“They asked me to tell you something inspirational, so… ask yourself if you have what it takes to become part of the LEP. Don’t worry. You don’t have to answer the question just yet,” Vinyáya said, her smile turning almost sardonic. 

“I’ll find out for you.”

beginning.

Commander Julius Root opened his eyes, which was unexpected, considering that he had died in an explosion just a few minutes ago. He sat up, reaching for the cigar in his breast pocket. It wasn’t there. Root groaned.

A sprite hurried over to him. “Excuse me, hi. Welcome to the afterlife. Do you have an orange, blue, red or yellow pass?”

Root blinked and looked at the card he held in his hand. It was green.

The sprite wrung her hands, reciting her rehearsed speech. “If you have an orange–“

“Silence,” Root barked. “Are you in charge here?”

The sprite shook her head and turned to a ticket desk, overcrowded with a horde of fairies. “No, I only tell the newcomers about the different passes. The orange–“

Root left the sprite and shoved his way through to the gremlin behind the counter. He ignored the shouts of protests behind him.

The gremlin looked up from a bundle of papers, his lip quivering.

“Do you have an orange–,“ he began, but Root interrupted him.

“No, I don’t have an orange pass,” he growled. “What’s their purpose, anyway?”

The gremlin shrugged. “I am only supposed to ask if you have an orange–“

Root turned to the crowd.

“Listen up, everybody. I am Commander Root of the LEP, and I want you all to form an orderly line. Now!”

The fairies immediately scrambled to follow the orders. Root turned to the gremlin and took the paper bundle from his hands.

“Get me a cigar and sim coffee. I’m taking over.”

accusation.

Holly took a breath. She was ready. The Council Members stared at her like one big, unblinking eye. She gave everyone a curt nod. Then her gaze fell on Vinyáya and her confidence crumbled. The wing commander smiled. Her teeth flashed. Cold. It should have been you.

Vinyáya’s hands clawed into the armrests, her jaw tight. She had to remember to breathe. In. Out. Focus. She gave Holly an encouraging smile. Praying this would be over soon. Someone called out her name. Not him. Never again. Her smile became strained. What a travesty. And then. It should have been me.

winter.

Holly held out a hand. A single snowflake landed on her golden-brown skin before it melted. She clenched her eyes shut. Remembering his snarky laugh. Had he ever laughed? She couldn’t remember anymore. Maybe it had been more of a chuckle?

Her communicator beeped. Trouble squeezed her hand. It was time.

Holly opened her eyes, about to leave, when a flash of colour caught her attention. She picked up an orange rose petal, buried underneath the snow. And for a second, she could have sworn that he was with them.

Pocketing the petal, Holly gave Trouble a nod. They left.

transformation.

Foaly, Technical Consultant of LEP Section Eight, clip-clopped into his flat. His son came galloping to greet him.

“That’s nice,” Foaly murmured. “Sorry, I really need to send this mail off. I’ll be with you in half an hour.”

Trotting into his study, Foaly closed the door behind him and turned the key. Twice.

He closed the blinds and turned to his desk. Pulling open a drawer, he threw one last look over his shoulder. Only then did he reach in and pulled out his tinfoil hat.

The familiar material slipped snuggly over his forehead.

Closing his eyes, Foaly let out an exhausted sigh and sank into his swivel chair. He was home.

promise.

Holly and Artemis huddled on the small hill, completely at her mercy. Opal smirked.

“Are you scared, yet?” she asked, examining her perfectly manicured nails, while the water kept rising.

“I’d be willing to let you live,” she said, an indulgent smile playing on her lips. “All you have to do is swear your loyalty to me.”

“Never!”  

Opal sighed, before a mad grin spread on her face.

“As you wish. Die!”

A sudden wave swept her two prisoners off the mound. They sank to the bottom of their wet grave. Opal cackled.

The door opened, and Doctor Argon entered.

“How are we feeling today, Miss Koboi? Are the, uh, cocoa puffs to your liking?”

Opal spooned more milk over the drowning cereal. She smiled.

“They are splendid.”

letters.

Grub chewed on his pencil, the shuttle shaking its passengers from side to side.

“Monster; took out an entire Retrieval Squad. Six letters, ends with an ‘r’. Trubs?”

Captain Trouble Kelp stared ahead. His mouth was set in a hard line. He had to use all his self-discipline to not rip the paper from his little brother’s hand.

Keep it together, Trouble. What will your colleagues think?

“Can you please behave yourself?” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“So, you don’t know. Just say so,” Grub huffed and turned to the next line. He scribbled the answer down, returning to the unsolvable question.

“Third letter is a ‘t’ and last one is an ‘r’. Butter? No, that can’t be right. Potter? Zither?”

“If you don’t put this paper away, I swear by the Gods-“

The speakers came to life before Trouble could finish the sentence.

“ETA fifteen minutes. Get ready for landing.”

Grub let out a disappointed sigh. He wouldn’t be able to focus on the mission until he had solved that riddle. He knew it. Trouble knew it too.

“It’s ‘Butler’,” Trouble said, rolling his eyes as his brother’s face lit up. 

Grub finished his crossword in time.

future.

Holly pushed the last box into the hall, dusting off her hands.

“You really don’t have a lot of stuff, Trubs,” she called out, scrutinising his boxes lined up on one side versus hers on the other.

Trouble walked into the living room, two bottles of sim beer balancing on the pizza cartons in his hands.

“That’s because Grub stole everything I ever owned. He even opened my minted edition action figures.”

Seeing her blank expression, he added, “To play with them!”

“You poor baby.”

Holly rolled her eyes. She plugged the TV in and curled up next to him on the couch.

“What are you collecting? Apart from all the investigations the Council has launched against you?”

Holly snickered and bit into her garlic pizza bread. Trouble nudged her in the side.

“I will find out anyway, so better tell me now. Are you one of those crazy rock collectors?”

Holly swallowed and bit her lip. Trouble groaned.

“It’s illegal, isn’t it? Of course, it is. Please tell me, you aren’t keeping the Mud Boy in one of the boxes.”

“It’s not that bad,” Holly said, got up, and rummaged through one box. She pulled out a small casket and opened it for him to see.

Trouble blinked. “Shells?”

“Listen,” she said, and held one to his ear. He frowned, the tips of his ears quivering ever so lightly. Then his eyes went wide.

“That’s the sea! How is that possible?”

“Magic.”

Trouble took the shell, completely enthralled. Holly took a sip of her beer, watching him. After a moment, she huffed.

“Am I under arrest, Major?”

He grinned, letting the seashell drop into his lap. “I might let you get off the hook, Captain, but it’ll cost you.”

Holly’s eyes twinkled.

“Oh yeah? Hang on. Let me have some more of this really delicious garlic bread.”

Trouble laughed and pulled her close.

A/N: So, this was one of the main groups I seemed to have been inspired by in April. I hope you enjoyed some or maybe all of them? Next up, the Butlers. I'll try to put that chapter up tonight, but there are a few more notes, I am trying to figure out where to place them, haha. Please be patient with me.

Chapter Text

Author's Note: So… let’s see. My love for this family is probably well known by now, and I went to town with the prompts. I started by writing a brief explanation about the pieces, but then I realised just how deep I went into Slavic folklore and traditions here, so I figured I’ll put a wee note after the pieces in question. We'll start with the Past-ish, and continue with the Present in the next chapter. In an attempt to make it more reader-friendly.

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

The Butlers - The Past

prepared.

Regret to inform -(STOP)- Capt V Butler killed in action -(STOP)-

Twenty eight August at Tannenberg -(STOP)-

Letter follows -(STOP)- Lt M Butler save -(STOP)-

Samsonov considering evacuation -(STOP)-

***

This one is a telegram from WWI, because I figured the Butlers would have probably fought in it, too. It’s one of my favourite pieces, possibly because of all the research I did that day, and the amount of heart-breaking telegrams I read. Plus, I was lucky enough to have a friend translate the telegram into Russian.

The Battle of Tanneberg was fought between Russia and Germany between 26 and 30 August 1914, the first month of World War I. The battle resulted in the almost complete destruction of the Russian Second Army and the suicide of its commanding general, Alexander Samsonov.

 

companion.

A brilliant blue diamond tattoo on the left shoulder. The elements left little else for identification.

summer.

Domovoi Butler was scared. The distance was clearly too far. If he jumped, he’d die.

Dima laughed. “Dom is a napugannaya koshka!”

“Am not,” Domovoi called out and clenching his eyes shut, leapt off the tree branch. He heard the cracking before the pain soared through his leg. Tear sprang into his eyes as he rolled in the dirt, wailing.

His cousin jumped to his side, all smugness wiped off his face. He tried to pull Domovoi to his feet. Domovoi screamed.

Jumping up, Dima ran to the house. “Papaaaaa!”

And while Domovoi was trying to stop crying – the Major didn’t like cry-babies – he decided being a scaredy-cat might be the safer option in the future.

***

napugannaya koshka – scaredy cat

If you have read “Trust Issues”, you’ll already know Dima, who introduced himself to me during this writing challenge as Butler’s older cousin, and son of the Major. And while today he is as professional as the rest of the family, he got in a lot of trouble with Butler as they lived on the family estate in Russia.

 

haze.

Anastasia covered the big mirror in the hall. The Major chuckled, but stopped when she threw him a dark glare. She picked up several candles and went to the room. The wailing inside became louder as she opened the door. Domovoi shivered and huddled closer to Dima.

“Why is tetya getting so many candles?” he asked.

The Major shrugged. “To light the way, if you believe your aunt.”

“Is there no light, where tetya is going?”

Dima nudged him in the side. “Why don’t you ask her?”

Domovoi shook, lifting his head when the door opened, and his father came out. His eyes were red, as if he had cut onions for a very long time. He accepted a tiny glass from the Major and downed its clear liquid.

“She served the family, Alexandr,” the Major said, his tone unapologetic.

Alexandr snorted. “And how did that turn out for her?”

“Suzhenogo konyom ne ob edyesh.”

A vein began pulsating in Alexandr’s temple. He made a low growl before turning and storming out of the house.

“Why is papa angry?” Domovoi asked timidly.

The Major pulled a Vodka bottle closer and poured himself a glass. He hesitated. Only the sorrowful singing from the other room filled the air. Finally, he looked at his nephew.

“He just noticed the cage.”

***

tetya – aunt

“Suzhenogo konyom ne ob edyesh.” - You can’t escape your fate [even] with a horse. (Meaning: You can’t change your fate.)

 

I am fascinated with funeral rituals. There, I just confirmed that I am super weird. But in my defence, I was born on 2^nd November, All Souls Day or Day of the Dead, so that has to be linked somehow. Either way, part of Slavic funeral customs is to cover all the mirrors in the house and to open the windows, so that the soul of the deceased can leave the place and won’t get trapped in the mirrors. Another custom is to place a candle in the hand of the dead, so that they can light the way into the afterlife. And don’t forget to give them some money to pay Peter at the gates,... because God is a capitalist, apparently…

 

snowflake.

Domovoi met her on a snowy day in Moscow, almost missing her because his uncle’s ushanka kept sliding over his eyes. Her soft fur coat tickled his cheek as she walked past with her grandfather, Ded Moroz.

Domovoi looked over his shoulder as she threw one of her thick blond braids over her shoulder. Then she, too, looked back, and smiled. At him. His eyes went round. He hesitantly lifted a hand.

“Good-for-nothing layabouts. Come along, malchik,” his aunt said and pulled him forward, making him stumble on the icy road. When he checked again, Snegurochka was lost in the crowd.

***

ushanka - is a supersoft Russian fur cap with ear covering flaps that can be tied around the chin, and keeps your ears from freezing off in winter

malchik - boy
Ded Moroz - Grandfather Frost
Snegurochka - The Snow Maiden (Grandfather Frost’s granddaughter)

Snegurochka and Ded Moroz bring the presents during Christmas time. She usually has blue robes and braided pigtails, and I am positive, that little Domovoi would have been absolutely mesmerised by her.

 

outside.

Dima stepped outside when the first lightning split the sky. He handed his cousin a bottle of beer. A rare treat for the two full-time bodyguards.

Thunder roared in the distance.

Domovoi grinned. “They are coming.”

Dima snorted and watched the men on their horses approach. The leader, a tall man with an equally tall shako – its black and white feathers gently swaying in an invisible wind – drew nearer. Milky white eyes in a wrinkly face stared down at them.

“Borodino?” the rider asked, his voice echoing through the night.

Dima pointed to the left.

“You will join us.”

“We’ll prep our horses and follow you,” Dima said, suppressing a chuckle. The rider nodded and gave his men a signal. The hunting party rode away, their wild roars filling the air long after they had disappeared.

“One day, you’ll point them in the right direction,” Domovoi commented dryly, shook his head, and took a sip from his beer.

***

shako - is a high cylindrical military hat, probably most popular in the 19th century

Okay, one last Slavic folktale reference, and we are done, haha. The Wild Hunt has been around as long as there were humans (and was not invented by the creators of the Witcher games!), and is a folktale of a ghostly leader and his group of hunters and hounds flying through the cold night sky, accompanied by the sounds of the howling wind. It is believed that when you come across the Wild Hunt, you will have to join them.

When I was a kid, I read “King Stakh’s Wild Hunt” by Uladzimir Karatkevich, and I was somehow reminded of it on the day of writing.

Oh, and Borodino was another battle in 1812 between Napoleon and the Russian Army that Napoleon won. Apologies for all the war mentions, I really went a bit overboard, didn’t I?

 

A/N: Part I is done, let's continue to the Present. :-)

Chapter Text

Author's Note: Let's jump into the present with the bestest bodyguard family, shall we?

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

The Butlers - The Present

thanks.

Butler held his hand under the water stream. It turned bright red.

“He was lucky,” the Major said from the other side of the door. “A centimetre to the left and he would have come out in a body bag.”

The Captain’s answer was too low to make out. Butler looked up, his own wide eyes staring back. He swallowed. His mouth filled with saliva. Breathing through his nose, he tried to push down the nausea with little success.

He bent over the toilet. Hopefully, his uncles wouldn’t-

The bathroom door opened. Ah well. Butler would have rolled his eyes if he hadn’t been busy spewing out his lunch.

The Major waited until his nephew had rinsed his mouth.

“You can take tomorrow off. Get some rest. Victor and I will watch over the Fowls.”

“I’m fine. It was nothing.”

“You are a danger for yourself and us with that attitude, malchik,” the Major said sharply.

Butler clenched his jaw. Blood trickled onto the floor as he curled his hands into fists. 

“I am not a rookie. I’ve been in the army.”

“You will take the day off,” the Major repeated, ignoring the comment. “Teach Juliet how not to destroy every single Chinese vase in the manor. Understood?”

He lifted an eyebrow, challenging the younger man to protest. Butler sighed. His shoulders dropped.

“Understood.”

“Good,” the Major said, and turned to leave.

“You’d think, she has a personal vendetta against them,” he murmured under his breath, almost out of the door. He stopped, scrutinising a spot on his boots.

“Looking out for your comrades and actively jumping in front of a bullet are two different things. Take it easy.”

Butler opened his mouth. And closed it again. His uncle had long gone before he came up with an adequate response.

denial.

This was fine. Absolutely fine. Surely, it was code for something. Butler hesitated, regarding the boy behind the enormous mahogany desk.

“Apologies, Master Artemis, but what exactly do you mean with… fairy?”

The young boy didn’t even look up from the computer. He could only look over the table edge because of two cushions, he had ordered Butler to place on the leather swivel chair.

“What I said, Butler. A fairy. Did I not make myself clear?”

Butler shook his head.

“You did. I just don’t know if any of my contacts would know where to find a fairy,” he said. He considered a wink. Maybe it was a joke.

“That’s fine. I have put a call out on the Internet. I will need your assistance in combing through the genuine responses, though.”

“Of course.”

“I think I will have lunch in the dining room today.”

“Right away, sir.”

Butler left the study and headed for the kitchen, a deep frown on his forehead. He stopped when Juliet descended the stairs, an empty tray in her hands. If ‘fairy’ wasn’t code, then-

“Jules, remember when you had your imaginary friend?” he asked, taking the tray from her.

Juliet blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. She shrugged.

“Baba Brigida, strongest female wrestler in the world. Yes, what about her?”

“What happened to her?”

“It was a phase. I grew up,” Juliet said, before she laughed at him and punched him in the arm. “Are you in need of a friend? I’m sure we can find you some real ones.”

Butler let out a sigh and ignored the jab. It was a phase. That’s what kids did. They grew out of it. He relaxed slightly. This was fine.

formal.

The woman glared. Butler looked up from the picture in his hand. The Sergeant’s grin hadn’t wavered.

“I…,” Butler began, his voice faltering.

“She is a very accomplished fighter. An excellent addition to the Butler family.”

Butler swallowed, heat creeping up his neck.

“I’m sure she is. Just, with all due respect, I don’t think, I should be tied down… Work is very demanding, right now. Protecting a Fowl and all.”

He was babbling. Butler closed his mouth, seeing the Sergeant’s frown.

“You are right.”

Butler blinked. “I am?”

The head of the Butler Dynasty leafed through a pile of documents on his desk. Finally, he pulled out a paper.

“Absolutely. Dima isn’t married yet, and he is two years older than you. High-time to get his swimmers to work.”

The Sergeant laughed. Butler froze.

“T-that’s not what I meant.”

Waving the comment away, the Sergeant held out his hand for the brief.

“That’ll be all, syn. I hope you haven’t set your eyes on this one. I’ll find you another one,” he said, giving Butler a playful wink.

Butler turned and left the Sergeant’s office, forcing himself not to bolt. Once outside, he pulled out his phone, punching the numbers as if they had attacked him.

Dima picked up after the third ring.

“I’ve cocked it up.”

***

Just like royalty, I am fairly certain that the Butler Dynasty rests heavily on arranged marriages between Butlers and the strongest, most skillful fighters in the world. Because let's face it, the Fowls would have quickly run out of bodyguards, the way they do their businesses. On the other hand, imagine being a fighter, bodyguard or soldier, and getting the chance of marrying into the worldfamous Butler family. It'll be like winning the lottery.

And while Butler isn't too happy about this, the Sergeant won't forget about him. Not like that would ever come back to haunt him...   

simple.

Butler let his arm dangle over the edge of the bed and fumbled blindly for his bespoke shirt. He cracked an eye open. The shirt remained gone. Instead, a most tantalising smell came wafting into the room. A lazy smile spread across his face, before Butler rolled out of bed. He put on his pants and padded into the kitchen, but stopped in the door. Crossing his arms over his bare chest and lifting an eyebrow, he took in the scene.

Wearing only his shirt – the sleeves rolled up several times – Sofia was ladling batter into a waffle maker. An old Italian song played quietly on the radio. Humming along, she did a little shimmy, wiggling her hips from side to side.

Butler thought he’d never seen anything more perfect in all his life. Then she turned and gave him a grin that made him go weak in the knees.

“I call it ‘sofia-sticated lounge wear’,” she said, spreading her arms. “What do you think?”

In three long strides he was standing before her, pulling her into his arms.

“I think, I’ll need this shirt back,” he said with a glint in his eyes.

Sofia laughed. “Better luck next time.”

He frowned. A shrill ringing drowned his next words. Everything went black, but the deafening sound didn’t stop.

Butler hit the rattling alarm clock on his nightstand. He opened his eyes with a sigh. Better luck next time.

tremble.

Butler looked out of the window, trying to orientate himself in the starry night sky.

“I am pretty sure that’s Andromeda and Pegasus,” he said into the phone. “You?”

“Nothing. It’s way too light in the city to see any stars, unfortunately,” Sofia said with a disappointed sigh. “We used to see them every night when I was a kid. The perks of living in a village.”

Butler smiled and after a moment of silence, said, “Ivan the Terrible.”

Sofia hesitated. “What?”

“You asked who I wanted to be as a kid. I wanted to be Ivan the Terrible.”

He heard the grin in her voice. “The evillest man in the world?”

“He was very powerful. Plus, he had six wives. When I was a kid, I thought, ‘wife’ was just another word for friend.”

Sofia let out a breathy sigh, and Butler rolled his eyes.

“Shut up, Professor. I was young and stupid.”

“No, this is just so-“

“Don’t!” Butler warned her. “Don’t even think that word.”

“Okay, okay,” she said. “Probably time to say cute night.”

Sofia sucked in a breath the moment Butler growled.

“Good night. Time to say good night,” Sofia spluttered. “Okay, good night. Bye!”

Butler listened to the disconnect tone for a moment before he rubbed a hand over his face and chuckled quietly.

diamond.

“Ay dios mio,” Samsonetta whispered, crouching beneath a bush and staring at Juliet who had just placed a boot on the monster’s belly.

Juliet gave her a questioning look. “Not good? Shall I put it around my shoulders instead?”

Samsonetta kept gaping and Juliet came over. “Que pasó? You okay?”

“It… that… It’s the Tlahuelpuchi!”

“The?” Juliet asked and paled. “Please tell me it wasn’t the last one. I’d hate to be responsible for its extinction.”

Samsonetta rolled her eyes, waking up from her stupor. “No, tonta. It kills children and is very dangerous. You must have a magic talisman that protected you.”

Juliet snorted. “Right. I don’t need protection against such whimps. Are there any more around? I’ve been meaning to try out some new moves.”

Samsonetta wouldn’t let it go. “I am serious, Julieta. You cannot face them without the necessary protection. Are you wearing any charms?”

Ignoring the question, Juliet strode into the big, dark forest, only armed with a challenging grin.

***

Ay dios mio – Oh my God.

Que pasó? -  What happened.

tonta – idiot

Going into Mexican folklore now, the Tlahuelpuchi is the Mexican version of a female vampire. But they mostly only go after infants, so you should be safe. ;-)

 

A/N: Ending with some fluff. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and apologies for all the explanations. I figured, I could have let it unexplained, but I hope you'll find they enhance the experience. Next up, a little Investigator AU.

Chapter Text

Author's Note: This one came as a bit of a surprise, but I think I might someday revisit the private investigator alternative universe again. Because it was a lot of fun to write. In this world, everybody is a human. Holly Short is a private investigator, Butler is a detective sargeant, and Artemis is a dubious business man.

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

Private Investigator/Police AU

silver.

Private Investigator Holly Short rubbed her temple, taking a sip from the bourbon. Okay, that was a lie. She downed it and took a long pull from the tenth cigarette that day.

Trouble Kelp entered her office, giving her a pointed look.

“I’ll stop tomorrow,” she said, but not even her voice sounded convincing.

Her secretary shrugged and jerked his chin to the waiting room.

“You’ve got a new customer. Says his name is Artemis Fowl.”

Holly suppressed a groan. “Anyone but him.”

“Your call. Just remember, we need to pay rent tomorrow. For the last three months.”

“Send him in,” Holly said with a sigh, bracing herself.

Artemis Fowl strode into her office, his eyes wandering over the water stain on the wall.

Holly almost expected him to refuse the chair in front of her desk. He gave her a mocking grin before he sat down.

“What can I do for you, Mr Fowl?” Holly asked, keeping her voice even.

“Someone has stolen something from me.”

Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a photo and handed it to her.

Holly snorted. “And you took a photo beforehand?”

“This jewel was part of my late mother’s collection,” he explained. “It was to be displayed in an exhibition at the National Museum. Hence the photo.”

Holly eyed the photo doubtfully and shrugged. “Surely, the police are looking into it?”

Artemis shook his head. “I have not made this burglary public. This matter… is rather delicate.”

“Because you stole this heirloom?”

Artemis gave Holly a reproachful look. “Detective, this jewel is of the utmost importance to me.”

“You didn’t deny that it was stolen.”

“My family hasn’t always been working on the right side of law, correct,” Artemis admitted. “But this jewel is so much more- I need it back. Please, help me.”

Holly studied the man in front of her. He hadn’t answered her question, and he was avoiding the subject. Something wasn’t right about this, she could feel it.

Stay away from this.

Artemis, sensing her reluctance, pulled out his cheque book and scribbled on the first page. He signed the paper and ripped it off, handing it to her.

“One million euros, if you help me, Detective. I am not here to trick you.”

Holly sucked in a breath. Those were a lot of zeros on the paper. Zeros that would pay the rent for a long time. And Trouble’s wages. And her car’s repair.

It’s just a jewel. I am sure I can find it. No, it’s not worth it.

Holly reached for the cheque.

This will not end well.

If only she had listened to her gut.

order.

Detective Sergeant Domovoi Butler entered the manor, following the forensic scientists into the study. His partner, Det Sgt Sid Commons, was busy flirting with the crime scene technician, while she tried to take photos of the body on the floor.

“What do we got?” Dom asked, trying hard not to grin. Sid stepped back.

“Artemis Fowl. Multimillionaire. Made his money with Information and Communication Technologies.”

Dom nodded. “He made this app, didn’t he? What was it again? D Dice?”

“C Cube. That’s not how he made his first million, though.”

Sid handed him a folder. Dom opened it and let out a whistle.

“Busy bee, Master Fowl. Anything he didn’t do?”

His partner shook his head. “Nope. This is incriminating enough to link him to the current drug trafficking surge in the country, though. Shame that somebody got to him, before we did.”

“Any family? Wife? Husband?”

“Nah, there was a housekeeper. Other than that, he was apparently a bit of a recluse. One of those uber smart geniuses, you know?” Sid said, before he snickered. “Just not clever enough to not get shot.”

The techie gave them a sign and fled the scene. Sid sighed and walked back to the crimson edge that had formed around the dead man.

“His last meeting was a few days ago. Chicago. Fission Chips. Could be a lead,” Sid said, but there wasn’t much enthusiasm in his voice. Pros didn’t leave any traces. Besides, if the criminals started killing each other, it would make their work much easier.

Dom crouched, studying the man. Young man, he corrected himself. He wondered what could have made someone with his intellect choose a life of crime rather than use it for a good cause. The body remained silent.

He stood.

“We need to figure out who his second in command is, before they take over. I’ll send a request to Chicago, but we need to focus on busting his organisation. Root is already breathing down my neck. Any day now, he’ll start following me to the bathroom.”

Sid grinned and followed him out of the study.

“See, that’s why I choose the stalls. Nobody there to compare-“

“You choose the stalls to read the newspaper,” Dom interrupted him with a glare. “Leaving me to write those bloody reports.”

Sid’s baritone laugh resonated in the vast entrance hall long after the two men had left the manor.

sunset.

Detective Sergeant Domovoi Butler grinned and slapped the handcuffs around the stout man’s hands.

“They haven’t changed your cell, Mr Diggums. I’m sure you’ll appreciate that.”

Mulch Diggums, better known under his nickname “The Dwarf”, wasn’t too worried.

“I am not going to prison, DS Butler.”

Dom snorted. “Oh yes? And why is that?”

“Because right now,” an icy voice behind him said, “I am pointing a pistol at your head.”

Grabbing Mulch Diggums by the collar, Dom whirled around. He held the short man in front of him, which did little to shield him from the attacker as Diggums didn’t even reach his chest.

Dom stared his opponent in the eyes, ignoring the gun barrel that was aimed at his face.

“Impossible,” he murmured. “I saw your corpse.”

“Did you? Or did you see what I wanted you to see, DS Butler?”

“Give it up, Fowl,” Dom said, shaking off his initial shock, and tightening his grip on Diggums. “You have nowhere to run. We have seized all your assets, hideouts, accomplices.”

Artemis lifted an eyebrow. “Tough words. Wouldn’t you rather spend the time with your girlfriend? The lovely professor has been waiting all evening for you.”

Dom paled.

“What have you done?”

“Me? Nothing,” Artemis said, a sardonic smile playing around his lips. “Or have I?”

“If you hu-” Dom growled, but Artemis interrupted him with a mocking laugh.

“Looks like you’ll have to choose between your career or,” he scoffed, “love.”

He lifted his arm to check his watch. “I’d say you have about twenty minutes, before your girl is going for a swim, DS Butler. Dublin Bay’s water temperature is supposedly very pleasant around this time of the year.”

“Where is she?” Dom asked through gritted teeth.

“Quid pro quo. The keys for the location.”

Dom curled his hands into fists. He could probably squeeze out the information from the sleezy bastard, but would he be able to beat up Fowl and get to Sofia in time?

Clenching his jaw, he threw the keys at the criminal who caught them with a smile.

“Realt na Mara. Do you know the spot or shall I draw you a map?”

Dom took off running, leaving Artemis Fowl to free his second-in-command.

A/N: Will he get there on time? I have no idea, but maybe one day, this secret will be solved, too. 

Chapter Text

Author's Note: Hello my beautiful readers. Next up, Minerva and Beau Paradizo. They didn't really fit into any category, so they got their own category. Enjoy. :-)

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

Minerva/Beau Paradizo

knowledge.

"It's true," Beau Paradizo said, offering a piece of his favourite chocolate to Clement, and trying his best to keep his hands steady. Beau had been trying to talk to him for weeks, but Clement was constantly surrounded by his friends.

Today, however, Lady Luck had smiled down upon Beau. They were the first to arrive for class.

"My sister is a genius," he continued, pushing a piece of chocolate into his mouth.

"She almost got a Nobel prize, too, for discovering a whole new species. But then another genius stopped her. But it's alright. Minerva has a bit of a crush on him."

Clement took another piece of chocolate. "What species?"

"They are demons. But not like the ones from the Bible. They look more like gnomes. Smelly too."

Beau beamed, wiping his hands on his trousers.

"Clement," he began when they were joined by another kid.

Clement jumped up and walked over, rubbing the chocolate from his lips. Hesitating, Beau gave the two a side glance. Was he allowed to-

"That clown just told me the craziest story," Clement announced. Beau froze, a flush creeping over his cheeks.

Laughter soon filled the room. Naturally. Everybody knew that Beau Paradizo was a notorious liar.

look.

Minerva hurled the folder against the wall. She let out a string of French curses, kicking over a chair for good measure. Maybe that would have convinced them, she thought with a huff, seeing herself in a mirror.

Stupid misogynists.

Ripping at the blue ribbons in her hair, Minerva chewed on her lip. She didn't see another way. Legal wouldn't do anymore.

Flopping on the bed, she pulled her laptop closer. Simone de Beauvoir appeared on the screen, her voice echoing in Minerva's mind.

One is not born a genius, one becomes a genius.

Minerva smirked. Time for some mischief.

A/N: Short and sweet. Hope you enjoyed. :-)

Last, but not least, our one and only: Artemis Fowl.

Chapter Text

Author's Note: And here is the last chapter, focussing on our favourite criminal boy, Artemis. Please enjoy. :-)

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

Artemis Fowl

restless.

Artemis tapped his fingers on the mahogany desk. His mother's mouth kept opening and closing. She looked at him, and he realised she had asked him a question.

Angeline Fowl sighed, placing the leaflet on the desk. Another charity event?

"Please, Artemis?" she asked, her hand on the doorknob. "It's for a good cause."

Once he was alone, Artemis turned to his laptop. Cake sells. He snorted. They needed money? Nothing easier than that.

Artemis' fingers flew over the keyboard, hacking into the account of a Mexican drug lord. A minute later, that man was several millions poorer, while the Our Lady of Lourdes' Pilgrimage Trust was several millions richer.

He closed his laptop with a smile. Leaning back in his chair, he wondered if there was still some of Butler's strawberry tart left.

mad.

Artemis coughed. The vibrant green wallpaper blurred before his eyes. He wheezed, taking a sip from the lukewarm tea on his desk until he breathed easier.

Shaking his head, he dipped his quill into the inkpot and finished his thought. Someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," Artemis said, pushing the quill harder and etching the letters on the paper. The butler entered, giving his master a respectful bow.

"Master Fowl, sir, your mother requests your company on her stroll through the park."

"Yes, I can imagine," Artemis said, twirling his moustache. "She has been trying to introduce me to this year's debutantes. Unfortunately, there is not one among the fairer sex that can match my handsomeness or intellect."

Butler didn't bat an eye. It was true. There was nobody else in all of London with a more translucent and paler complexion than Master Fowl. Ideal prospects in securing a favourable match if it wasn't for Artemis' reluctance to marry.

"Don't you want to have a look, Master Fowl?" Butler asked carefully.

"Nonsense, Mr Butler," Artemis said, before he shook with another coughing fit. "I am so close, cracking the secret hiding spot of the fairy folk. Once I have mastered them, I shall happily marry if my mother insists."

Butler nodded and turned to leave, but Artemis stopped him.

"Mr Butler, please shut the windows before you leave. The noise is unbearable."

Butler inclined his head and walked over to the windows. He closed them, silencing the sound of birds that had come from outside.

"Thank you, Mr Butler," Artemis said, rubbing his eyes. "I will take my lunch here."

"Of course, Master Fowl," Butler said, leaving the study, and trying to clear his dry throat all the way to the kitchen.

***

I set the story in the Victorian Era, and Victorians were obsessed with pale skin (Artemis would have been the personification of beauty, haha!) and brightly coloured wallpaper, such as vibrant green ones. Unfortunately, the colour green contained the highly poisonous element of arsenic. Many families around this time grew mysteriously ill for no apparent reason... go figure. 

So, Artemis, spending all his time in such a room, would have probably not ended with Holly’s kidnapping… *leaves you with this note, cackling*

flame.

"Many thanks for your attention," Dr Sofia Massetti said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear and flashing her dimples. Singular. One dimple. On her right cheek, Butler noticed.

Artemis hit the pause button and turned to him.

"Well?"

Butler hesitated, his eyes darting between the video still and his young charge. Artemis sighed.

"It is quite obvious that the professor's presentation is favouring Dante's worldview and thus stripping our perception of the tremendous historical scenery that could have surely only enriched our experience."

"I see," Butler murmured. He didn't. Admitting that he finally understood Dante's journey through Hell, though? Not an option.

Artemis let out another sigh. "Nevermind. I will have to make a counter presentation to show you what I mean."

Butler suppressed a groan. He hid his dismay with a cough.

"Sure, Artemis. I'll brew some Earl Grey."

"Excellent idea, Butler. Do you think the professor would appreciate if I send her a copy too? I'm sure she will."

move.

Artemis looked up at the creature towering above him. It had the head of a jackal.

"Anubis, I presume," Artemis said, standing and buttoning his jacket. He was pleased to notice that it was in fact his favourite suit, tailor-made by Kingsman Tailors, a respectable Dubliner shop. He had been meaning to get a new one made. Artemis chuckled.

"Something funny?" Anubis asked in perfect English as he led him through a hallway lined by torches.

Artemis shook his head. "Am I correct to assume that you will now weigh my heart?"

"Against the feather of Maat, correct."

Artemis chuckled once more, about to point out that the mass of a heart was significantly higher than the mass of a single feather. Of course, arguing with the God of Death was probably not the best idea. Unless this was all a figment of his dying brain, in which case, there was no point in arguing.

"Just roll with it," Anubis said, much to Artemis' surprise.

"You don't- "

"Sound like an Ancient God? I get that a lot," Anubis said, grinning and showing his pointy teeth. "But you have to go with the times, dude."

They reached an enormous hall. Artemis studied the wall of computers and control panels.

"Is Osiris not attending?" he asked, the disappointment in his voice clear. Anubis chuckled.

"The big boss is busy, he can't sit with all you little humans."

"What about fairies?" Artemis asked.

"They fall under a different dominion. And no, you can't visit them."

Artemis crossed his arms. This whole death business turned out to be less exciting by the minute. He watched Anubis walk to a control panel and push a few buttons. Then some more. After a moment he repeatedly pressed one button, each hit more frantic.

"Problems?" Artemis asked.

"Just a software update, shouldn't take longer than five minutes."

A screen flashed red. Anubis cursed.

"Have you checked if the base registration key is up to date in the Configuration utility?" Artemis asked helpfully. He felt an odd tug behind his eyes, but ignored it, stepping closer to Anubis.

"Sometimes the BIG-IP management port to route traffic can-"

He didn't finish the sentence as he was catapulted from the room and into the darkness, a familiar voice calling out for him.

"Artemis! Come to my voice."

A/N: 30 prompts, 30 little stories. I could hardly believe my eyes, seeing the word count go up to 7k. You really don't realise how many words you can write in a month, even if it's just a wee little ficlet here and there. Nice! :-)

As always, thanks everyone for checking them out. I hope I could sweeten your day/s a little bit, and I hope to see/read you soon. Take care!