#Artemis fowl senior

[eldewinddolly]

That morning in 1999 ; they just found out…

First time trying a big piece on procreate, i’m glad I went for a monochrome so I could work on my (non existent) shadows skills. I don’t draw scenes like this very often even on traditional media so I’m quite happy with how it turned out.

Sorry for the angst, mental health is a sh*tshow right now 🫠 So i’m torturing my favorite characters because i’m a terrible person ✨

[irunaki]

FIFTH PHOTO (and probably last)

ups i forgot to post this for like 1 month-

prev photo

[jei-rifni]

Whats this? Finally AF and AR art? Yeah s’been a while

[artemis-fowl-angst]

Prequel day:

A oneshot window into life before the fowlstars sinking.

CW: drugs, implied murder, broken bones, parental issues, mafia

September 18th, The young Artemis Fowl the second, who had just freshly turned five years of age, yet was only ~80% the size of his peers, now sat in his mothers lap, weeping in the back of his father’s bentley, as it sped furiously towards St. James Hospital in central Dublin.

Artemis, despite his brilliance in many areas, wasn't very coordinated yet. However, that didn't worry his parents, afterall, their son was already reading at 4,000 words per minute, and he hadn't even graduated the first grade yet, best not to look a gift horse in the mouth, they'd certainly trade a mediocre footballer for a child prodigy.

At his age, it was customary for Fowls to be informed on tamer matters of business, and his father was desperate to use his son’s talents to the advantage of their family, he had an ace in his pocket and his fingers were itching to pull it out, he knew that his competition would quiver at the things his freakishly bright child could deduce within minutes of exposure.

Thats how the young boy found himself in a room with his father adjacent to him, Butler and the Major standing protectively behind them, close enough that artemis would feel his bodyguards breath if he were taller, and Kolzak Bogdanov sitting at the other end of a 3 metre long table.

Mr. Bogdanov had assumed it was mahogany, and commented on it as an ice-breaker at the beginning of the meeting, only to flush nearly as red as the table when he’d been corrected by a five year old. It was bloodwood, a very dark bloodwood, but bloodwood nonetheless. The chairs matched the table, with their low backs, black leather held to the crimson wood by brass tacks.

It wasn't easy to see the grain of the wood in the dim lighting of the room, but artemis had good vision and it was certainly easier than trying to follow the thinly veiled threats being traded between his father and Kolzak. So thats what he elected to do, staring at the twisting lines and knots, some straight as ribbons down the length of the table, ending only when the went out of sight under Bogdanov’s elbows. Some swayed like rivers, bending and bowing, twisting and turning, ending spiralled around wine coloured knots.

“You know, I’ve been studying you closely Fowl.” Bogdanov smirked.

“Should I be flattered to have caught your attention?” Despite his teasing words, Artemis Fowl Senior demeanour was all but Jovial, cold and domineering as ever.

“You think this is funny? I’ve got connections, I have an eye inside your banks and I don't think the Bratva would be happy to know you’ve been skimming more than your share off their Coke profits.” He pause a beat, directing his eyes to Artemis Juniour, then he picked back up in a mocking tone adding: “or do you not want me talking about nose candy in front of your baby” He cooed the last word with a sickening grin, giving Arty an unwanted look at his plaque coated teeth, he couldn't help but recoil as the man leaned forward at him and Butler put a hand on the arm of his charge’s chair, reminding both Bogdanov and Artemis that he was still there, to differing reactions.

Artemis senior appeared unfazed.

“Artemis, you know what cocaine is, yes?” He said, never taking his eyes off Kolzak

He looked between Kolzak and his father for a second, before speaking “cocaine, known by many slang names, is an addictive drug derived from coca or prepared synthetically. It is a tropane alkaloid that acts as a central nervous system stimulant primarily recreationally and illegally, cocaine is metabolised in the liver and it’s metabolites are Norcocaine, benzoylecgonine, cocaethylene, and ecgoninemethylester, Cocaine is-” “Thats Enough.” his father cut him off sharply

Bogdanov appeared to search for words for a bit before he opened his mouth to speak again. “I am not any old fool Fowl.” he spat the name, as though it left a bitter taste on his tongue and bile in his throat. “Your boy doesn’t intimidate me, I’m not gonna forget that I have leverage just because he can recite some fancy words in your englishman language.”

“Its latin…” Arty mumbled, but it didn't seem that anyone had heard him.

“I admire your confidence, if not your intelligence Kolzak. I assume your plot is to have me buy your silence?”

“Da, I want a place in your network, enough cash to start my own branch of the Bratva, and your backing when mikhail inevitably comes after my ass.”

“You want to distance yourself from the rest of the russian mafia?”

“No. I want a shortcut to the top.”

“You're a gambler Kolzak, we’ve played many a game head to head, you know how dangerous it is to try and force my hand.”

“And you know that I do not bluff.”

They stared at each other, the silence was palpable and the air felt thick.

“Artemis-” Two large blue eyes shot from the table to his father “-Go downstairs to your mother, Butler, stay here.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, Butler Helped him up and out of the chair, his little legs were much too small to reach the ground alone. Once he was set with two feet on the floor, he fixed his tiny tie and walked out of the room silently, remembering to hold his head high and push his shoulders back.

He walked down the hall to the nearest study, his father’s, to grab the book he was currently reading, crime and punishment.

He made his way further down the hall, past walnut floors and hickory doors. The clicks of his tiny black loafers being muffled by the woven red rug that ran down the centre of the corridor. He walked forward to the edge of the stairs, where walnut floors turned to lacquered oak steps. He put a tentative hand on the gilded marble bannister and slid it forward to match his position as he moved down the stairs.

Each step he tested then made, he wasn't used to walking down the stairs without Bulter or his mother at his shoulder at barely a metre tall, the height of the steps was quite daunting and he was a clumsy child who easily lost his footing.

Perhaps it was his own mind getting in the way, maybe he was nervous, but everything around was so big and it was easy to be nervous when you were alone, Butler wasn’t with him, those moments were so rare…

A few more steps down the imposing staircase and he was a quarter of the way down, then a third, then one half. Maybe when he was with his mother, he would present her with his new violin concerto. He’d been working on it for about a week and was eager for an outside opinion two thirds of the way down when an all too familiar BANG ripped him out of his thoughts.

It was a noise he’d heard before. While Butler and the Major trained in the dojo, occasionally from his fathers meetings, in movies. A pistol with a silencer is still very very loud ~120 decibels. But the young Artemis didn't want to think about that, he was too busy falling.

He’d heard the bang, his foot had slipped, and he’d been sent careening forward, down the staircase. His chest was light, as though his heart had dropped to his stomach. He held out his arms in front of him bracing for impact.

There was a light thud when he hit the carpet. Pain exploded in his Right arm, his palms ached from the force of catching himself, and all the breath hand been knocked forcefully from his lungs.

His heart was racing with adrenaline and he was left laying on the carpet, cradling his arm close to his chest and gasping for air. He heard the voices of his father and the major nearing as the talked about something he was too distracted to hear, the second he was in sight, sniffling at the bottom of the stairs, Butler was by his side, asking him questions he couldn’t answer, all he could focus on was that he couldn't seem to get oxygen into his lungs.

The second he managed to catch a breath, he wailed. Tears ran down his cheeks and everything around him was too loud, too big, too bright, too much. He was terrified.

Butler managed to pry his delicate fingers off of his arm and pull it gently away from his chest. It was already starting to swell, and from Arty’s incomprehensible babbling interspersed with whimpers and sobs, he guessed it hurt.

Angeline had heard her baby’s cry from the west drawing room and had now appeared, worried with bits of hair strewn out of place, she looked like she’d ran, a theory only further confirmed by her lack of shoes, heels left behind somewhere in the manor.

“What happened?” she asked, frantic.

“I sent him out of the room while we finished things up with Kolzak, we found him like this.” even Fowl senior seemed worried, his brow furrowed in concern as his son sat bawling on the floor.

Angeline and the major stepped forward and artemis continued to gasp and blubber. Angeline got their first kneeling next to him and holding him tight, he clung to her, chubby little hands taking fistfuls of her blouse, pressing his face into her chest as she pet his hair and whispered sweet comforts. The major kneeled next to Butler, wordlessly taking Artemis’ arm from the younger bodyguard’s grip. With large calloused fingers, he gently pressed different spots. His elbow and forearm were starting to bruise already.

“broken?” The major asked Butler, seeing if he shared the opinion. Butler nodded, and thus it was decided. To the hospital they went.

Butler convinced angeline to let artemis go, and he picked him up as gently as he could, as though he were a porcelain doll, bundling him in his arms protectively and heading towards the garage.

Slowly the adrenaline wore off and artemis’ choked wailing turned to exhausted snivelling. The major drove, artemis curled in his mothers lap, hiding his face in her blouse, while Fowl senior called ahead to his doctor friend, assuring they wouldn't have to wait too long for service.

And true to the friend’s word, less than 30 minutes passed between the arriving and Artemis being wheeled on a tiny gurney to a room.

They gave him a mask, which probably had some medication mixed with the oxygen, because it seemed to calm him unnaturally fast.

He left with a blue cast, which stretched from his thumb to his armpit, a short list of prescription pills, and a heavy disappointment that he wouldn’t be able to work on his concerto.

[weeinterpreter]

Throwback Fowlfest: Baby Artemis crying. That’s it....? Oh, and Butler being amazing. Also Grandpa Fowl and the Major. And young Angeline and Timmy being rich numpties. Yay! A fanfic that I am (a bit) proud of: Walking a Tightrope.

[rainbeaudingo]

I have not yet read Fowl Twins but I did have an idea.

Myles and Artemis get into some petty argument (probably about Artemis’ lab limits) and Myles says “you’re just like father!” Of course, Myles really just means strict, but for Artemis that has a whoooooole different connotation.

[purplepotatobread]

Artemis Fowl when his dad comes back after 2 years and is a good nurturing father instead of a cold criminal who only cares about money.

[lisa-l0vely]

The Atlantis Complex Playlist

Artemis Playlist

Artemis Senior Playlist

I tried to be accurate but everyone interprets songs and characters differently so idk how accurate it really is.

[its5amandimbored]

https://youtu.be/pka6B6Sd4gA

Guys, guys, based on this video

Artemis fowl senior with a hand on Artemis's shoulder: "this is Reginald. he's a purebred doberman haversham, he cost $2000 and we were on a waiting list for 4 years to get him."

Artemis with the twins: "these are my babies chonco & fuckass i found them in a dumpster & I love them more than life itself"

Also I can imagine Artemis saying this with like a dead serious expression cause he's shit at expressing emotion but he fucking loves and adores his baby brothers

Also, can also be used with Artemis senior and his butler and Artemis with butler and Juliet cause all the other butlers have a very like non emotional, very buisness like, profesional relationship with the fowls.

and Artemis and butler and Juliet are here like "we are family!"

[hop-a-lot]

мой ангел

[fowlblue]

Fowl Senior is like… a skittish horse to me.

[eldewinddolly]

Young Angeline and Tim ✨I’m dumping all my procreate shenanigans since sleep won’t be polite enough to show up

[irunaki]

PHOTO NUMBER 1

[fowl-fox]

*holds up my Fowl Senior / Britva HCs in a greasy takeout bag* anyone want some of this?

[artemis-fowl-angst]

CW: sad, child mistreatment, cruel punishments, robot “death”

Five or six year old artemis viewing his robots as his children and sobbing when they’re broken.

Maybe one falls off a shelf and breaks, and he just falls to the floor crying over the pieces cause they’re like his babies and he spent to long on them.

Additionally, Fowl senior (pre-reform obviously) realising this “weakness” and breaking a robot whenever artemis “disrespected” him.

Maybe Opal hacks a robot and fricks up it’s software, and artemis holds it together during the battle, but when he gets a moment alone he just starts crying cause he has to break one of his own robots for the greater good.

Do you think he’d bury the parts of recycle them?

Logically he’d probably recycle them, but it’s more touching or whatever if he buries them or something.

I think he’d probably only be sad over the “death” of a robot he’d had for a while/had some form of AI. Like not one that’s purely dependant on code or a controller, and I don’t think NANNI would “die” but ones with liver level AI. I figure there’d be a few of those around Fowl Manor.

I imagine he’d probably like to think he’d “gotten over” his “childish weakness” but that really just means he’s learned to be quieter and hold his tears in longer.

What if angeline or butler or Holly or Alex walked in on him crying over a broken robots parts and we get a comfort scene where artemis can let down his walls a little bit for once.

What if one of the twins breaks one by accident? And he’s so angry and so sad but he can’t show that he’s upset at the twins, he can’t express his emotions to them, only explain. And when he gets to his room he just collapses into a pillow.

[little-mouse-adventures]

I wish you would write a fic where Butler hits the town with Tim (going as a bodyguard but soon dragged into the fun) and both of them get tipsy/drunk. Or just one of them, and the other has to deal with it- either way it’d be fun!

okay well this is like two weeks late but hey c'est la vie it was fun!

~~~~

In and of itself, being dragged to a small hole-in-the-wall pub near the docks of Dublin would have been just fine. Mrs. Fowl might not have approved of this particular meeting, given that the friend who had extended the invite to her husband had a reputation for never looking too closely at the cargo packed into the hold of his ships or the paperwork that came with it, but smuggling was one of the tamer aspects of her husband’s former career. And, at the very least, Cole was working on getting his fleet set up with energy-efficient fuel systems.

The problem came into play when Cole introduced his first mate, a man named Jackson. A man Butler had previously worked with back before his current employment with the Fowls.

They had been much younger, and Butler, at least, had been much less mature. Jackson seemed not to have changed.

“Come on, man, one drink!” the Australian badgered. “A big bloke like you shouldn’t have any problem with a single round. Least, you never used to!”

Cole and Artemis laughed.

“He does have a point, Butler,” Mr. Fowl said. “A man with your size and metabolism should be able to handle one round of whiskey!”

Butler sighed and bit his tongue before admitting he’d already had a drink tonight: a glass of wine with his book, before Mr. Fowl had asked for accompaniment on this excursion.

“I am working, sir.”

“Not much fun, this man of yours, is he?” Cole asked.

“He used to be. What’s the matter, Butler? Turned coward over a drink these days? Why, I remember once, we were –”

“That was a long time ago,” Butler cut Jackson off. The last thing he needed was his old friend telling his employer about some of the drunken antics he’d gotten up to as a twenty-year-old.

“Oh, I’d love to hear what Jackson had to say!” Cole said, leaning forward eagerly. “I’ve heard many a tale about the great Butler guarding the Fowls, and when Jacky here said he knew you once upon a time as a young hotshot, well!”

“See? We’re among friends here, Butler, have a drink.” Artemis Senior said as he waved the waitress down. He, and the other two men at the table, were already several rounds in. Not enough to be slurring, but definitely enough to have a distinct lack of good judgement.

Butler only sighed again as the waitress took the order from the Irishman and returned, placing a shot glass full of Jameson’s finest in front of each of the four men at the table.

“One drink, and we’ll leave you be,” Artemis said.

Butler eyed the glass warily. He knew better than to drink on the job. But he also knew that when Mr. Fowl got tipsy, he got pushy, and Butler wasn’t interested in spending the rest of the night being hounded by everyone at the table, and having the next few days be full of thinly veiled admonishments from the patriarch of the Fowl household.

He downed his shot like a man taking medicine, with one quick toss of his head. He couldn’t quite keep the grimace off his face as the heat of the whiskey burned its way down his throat, settling warm in his chest with the wine. Mixing liquor, just what he needed to be doing tonight. Jackson always had been a bad influence. Relatively speaking.

Artemis Senior, Jackson, and Cole all cheered.

“Hey, hey, not bad, old man!” Jackson clapped Butler on the shoulder. “For someone who doesn’t drink, and doesn’t drink whiskey especially, not bad at all!”

“Doesn’t drink whiskey especially?” Artemis pounced on the reference to his employee’s previous experiences with liquor. “What does he drink?”

“Ah, he was always more of a rum man. We had this really nice bottle of banana rum once, and a few girls on the beach – “

“Jackson,” Butler warned.

“Ach, relax! It was twenty-odd years ago!”

“Banana rum, eh? Let’s get a few rounds of those for the table then, huh?” Cole flagged the waitress down again.

“Make his a double, and put his in a cocktail,” Jackson told the brunette before she walked off. “Something that’ll hide the liquor taste!”

When the pina colada was put in front of him, Butler slid it to the side, and prepared to let the drink go warm while the others pestered him about it.

Two hours later, though, the sweet slush had been drunk. He had let himself take slow sips, tempered heavily with water, each time the ribbing got too obnoxious. And then, of course, the waitress had mentioned the banana vodka in stock, and a shot of that had been placed in front of him.

He’d refused, of course. But when the others made sounds about ending the evening, he’d allowed himself to be talked into cheers-ing with them as a goodbye, just to get Artemis Senior out the door. Then the music changed to a classic rock ballad Artemis and Cole had apparently sailed through a storm to, and that got the conversation flowing again.

By the time ABBA was singing about the dancing queen being young and sweet, Butler didn’t stop Jackson from telling the story about the time a couple very pretty girls had talked him and Butler into taking a speedboat on a midnight run for some of the coconut rum everyone at the table was currently enjoying. He’d even gone so far as to remind Jackson just who had driven said boat, when the Australian man had tried to take credit for the speeds they had reached.

And when Artemis had stood up to take a quick trip to the loo and Butler had to catch the slightly unsteady Irishman, he’d also had to fling a hand out to catch himself on the edge of the table while the room took a slow and dizzying spin.

“Woah,” Artemis said, trying to steady himself and Butler and nearly falling into his chair as he overbalanced on his bad leg. “Well! That’s. Hmm. Yes. Well. That’s… that’s something, isn’t it, Butler!” Artemis managed to slur only a little as he mentally stumbled through the liquor to formulate his thought. Then his eyes landed on Butler and he squinted, trying to determine if it was just his own blurred vision that made his bodyguard-for-the-night seem to be swaying slightly.  “You alright, there, old friend?”

“Ahh…” Butler blinked and waited for the walls to stop revolving. “I think… I might be drunk, sir.”

Jackson laughed the wild and carefree laugh of the happily inebriated. “You are not,” he confirmed. “If you were, you’d be singing along to the jukebox.”

Butler aimed a glare at him, or tried to. He couldn’t quite seem to get his eyes to focus, which he felt rather took some of the sting out of the look.

It was Artemis’s turn to laugh. “Well! That’ll make getting us home interesting!”

“Ah, take a cab.” Cole waved his whiskey glass absently. “Get your car in the mornin’.”

“Hate cabs,” Butler made an effort to speak clearly. “Though I suppose… we could call Juliet?”

Artemis Senior reeled back in thought and nearly fell over again. Butler’s hand at his elbow kept him upright, but not by much.

“Hmm. We could. We could. We denifitely… defitly… def-in-ite-ly could.” He stopped nodding as he realized it wasn’t helping his vertigo at all. “Though, of course… well. It’d be your pride on the line. She’s your sister. Up to you if you wanna deal with that. Her ragging on you. She would, you know. Endlessly. Always complaining at New Year’s that you never have more’n a glass of champagne. Or we could take a cab back to the house. That’s safe enough, I think. Well. Maybe. I don’t really know. That’s more –“

“Safehouse.” Butler cut in before the thought that had surface could be dragged down under the haze of drunkenness again.

“What?”

“Safehouse. I have a safehouse near here. We go there. We sleep this off. We go home tomorrow.”

Artemis looked thoughtful and began nodding again. He stopped once he bit his tongue when he tried to speak. “Okay. Yes. Good plan. Good plan! Good plan.” He turned to his drinking companion. “Cole! We’re going to a safehouse! Just like old times, eh?”

“Hmmm? Oh, yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah. Hey, put that away,” Cole ordered as he saw his ex-associate reaching for his wallet. “My treat. If I tip the waitress enough, maybe I can get her back to my house, if you know what I mean.”

Artemis slid his wallet back into his pocket and laughed a bit sheepishly as he remembered who was waiting in his bed at home. “Alright, then. See you around, Cole, Jackson. Butler. Let’s see if we can’t find our way to that safehouse! And perhaps not tell Angeline about this.”

Butler nodded, and as steadily as he could, led Artemis out the pub door and along the narrow streets of Dublin. No, Mrs. Fowl would absolutely not have approved of this meeting.