A Scrapbook of One-shots
Disclaimer: This is a Fan-fiction story of the Book (and soon to be TV) series; Midnight, Texas and is in no way affiliated with the actual series. All characters and other materials related to the book and show that are used are not intended to infringe on any Copyrights. Elemental-Zer0 takes sole responsibility for any mistakes or offence that may be taken but truly not meant.
However, this story plot and all Characters not affiliated with the show are Copyright © 2017 to Elemental-Zer0.
Author's Note: So, I was so intrigued by the trailer for Midnight, Texas that I just had to buy the books and have a read. I'm so glad I did. However, the books were not enough for my sadistic mind so I asked Fanfiction people to create this category and came up with this idea… Seeing as I have no solid plot or time to think one up or write one – instead I set out some one-shots to soothe my cravings for character suffering and saviours. Hope you like.
Scrapbook Excerpt #1 – Manfred Bernardo
He was open. Completely and utterly open to invasion and could do nothing to prevent it or close it down. For years, his grandmother had been warning him of these kinds of situations, where a dark arts user would find him and use him to enslave the restless spirits of the world unto their bidding. He had heard in great detail of the sheer unrelenting force of what would happen and how he'd be completely reliant on either the perpetrator voluntarily stopping – which didn't seem likely – or an outside force putting a stop to the spell that had been cursed.
He was crying. He knew he was. He could feel the tears streaking down his face as the agony of his power being used without his will or consent ripped through him and left a flayed and raw trail behind it. He was bound in place, held still and compliant by the dark magic that ensnared him. He was a slave to its whim and power. He was helpless. Vulnerable. And it was exhausting him. He hadn't ever thought himself very powerful, quite the opposite, his power had always been a slight blip and never really wanted to work when he needed it to. He hadn't known just how much this dark arts master could actually rip from him, it felt like a lot or was that just because it hurt a lot?
"Get your hands off of my friend!" The angry shout had sounded vaguely familiar and had he not been in so much pain, he might have recognised the owner of the voice. The Dark arts master paused briefly which gave Manfred the slightest freedom to breathe a little before the man started again. But to his surprise the dark arts master was suddenly no longer by his side. Instead there were gentle hands groping his face with a soft and soothing voice murmuring to him. He was so dazed he still wasn't sure what was happening, was that Fiji?
He waited for his hallucination to end, because surely that's what this was, but that didn't happen. Instead his wrists were released and he flopped forward into a set of strong waiting arms.
"Be calm friend. You are safe now." The voice had a distinct accent. The arms were cool, frostily so. Lemuel, he realised. And the woman from earlier… was Fiji. His friends had rescued him. Relief swept away any last vestiges of fight and energy he had left and he sank gratefully into whoever's arms had hold of him.
"Will he be ok?" He heard another woman ask, Olivia. He recognised her twanged accent.
"The bastard drained him pretty badly. He's running on empty. I don't know exactly what state he's in and I won't unless you get him to my spare bedroom. Goddess knows he can't stay here." Fiji said and she began grabbing bits and pieces from his bedroom floor and drawers. He felt Lemuel shift his grip and then lift him up from the ground. He must've looked quite the pathetic sight but he couldn't muster up enough energy to care at this point. Instead, he let his head fall back and allowed himself to pass the fuck out.