Into the Human Realm [Book II] Rascal x fem reader

1

There is a warm buzz in the air, coating your arms and legs as you saunter down the street. It is strange to be feeling any warmth at all in London. 20 years you have lived here now, and you still have not gotten used to shivering under the linen sheets that provide little to no warmth while you fall asleep, then wake up in the morning.

It is almost dusk, and the shadows of the buildings now loom tall and deep, casting over and enveloping you as you walk. The sky has deepened into a dark blue. Muffled club music drifts across from the other side of the street where a bar sits on its corner, The Burrow, nestled between the row of little stores. One of the r's of its bright blue neon sign flicker desperately every few seconds, then returns dark. It really is quite annoying, you fight the urge to cross the street to tell them. Though Thursday nights are the only nights you notice the place full and raging, they may not have the budget.

Your eyes fall to your feet. An old pair of black canvas shoes almost falling apart, they thud against the pavement with each step. You have had them since you were seventeen and have been unsuccessful in letting them go. Thud, thud, thud, thud. It is a tough chore forcing your head not come up with a tune to match the rhythm. Oh how you wish you have brought your earphones.

Thankfully Nina's flat is not that far away now and it takes one last turn into one last street to reach your destination.

Across the carpark you trod, then up the narrow set of concrete stairs to the first level, down the corridor, pausing to catch your breath from the minimal amount of exercise, before reaching out a hand to knock on the tenth door, even though your best friend has said multiple times before that you are always welcomed, encouraging you not to knock, to let yourself in.

But you have boundaries too. Though the door yanks open before you even get to touch it.

"Geez (y/n)," stands Nina at the door with a hand on her side, her eyebrows raised with an 'I-told-you-so face, but she wears that familiar grin, "finally."

You shrug. "Better late then never." And when your best friend steps to the side, you smirk, taking a step inside. Sounds of guitar tuning, drum warm-ups and speakers connecting to phones fill the atmosphere. A part of you relaxes at once.

You look around at the familiar space.

"Ah, there she is." The groove of the drums come to a stop. A boy, Jonah, relaxes, sticks in hands lay on his lap and then he looks up at you to smile, and you cannot help but return it, ignoring the heat rising to your face.

"She's here!? No way!" Comes an out of sight call from the kitchen around the corner. Out strides a pair of purple plaid pants, then Katrina. Then Liam from behind, hand in a crinkly bag of chips. He wears his 'Black Air' graphic tee, apparently it is from an underground Anime, but no one has been bothered to give it a search.

"Sweet, we can start." The boy gives a thumbs up then emphasises the movement of shuffling over to behind the keyboard.

"Sorry I was late," you apologise, then roll your eyes, "Sniffles escaped again."

Jonah cups a hand to his mouth, whispering a "No!"

Nina claps her hands together, "Ah Sniffles! God I love that name. Is he okay?"

The four look at you expectedly. You give a firm nod. "Yeah, he is back in his cage. I swear he has figured out the lock. I did not think lizards were that intelligent, but the truth speaks for itself I guess. I want to see him try with my entire Harry Potter collection in front of it."

After you say this, they all exclaim their admiration for your persistence in keeping Sniffles safe in his cage. Especially Jonah. Secretly you like this, then take your seat behind the keyboard. A new learning experience. Something to do.

You work with Nina at the crispy croissant a café in town. Your best friend in high school, then reconnected years later. Turns out she had formed a band. Practically begged you to join when you told her you know a couple chords when she asked.

The last couple of years have been difficult. You really did grow up in an entirely different universe, almost double your years on earth here in your own dimension and it blows your mind to think sometimes. It is not like you could forget it all happened as if none of it was real.

Back when Covid-19 started, 'shifting' was the next best thing, and you had your eye on it, scared and sceptical you were to attempt it but truly interested. Shortly after rediscovering The Glitter Force and re-watching the entire thing, hundreds of plots, quirky characters and twisted storylines had formed inside your head. Mostly about the joker. And you needed to write it out.

Suddenly, it turned into a novel, which you transformed into a script.

The first time you shifted to the Glitter Force universe, it was a disaster. First of all the script was not properly thought out, you had not scripted to forget. Second of all you had begun the script with no backstory – on the day you were to join the four in the Shadow Realm, and upon first contact with Rascal, you uncontrollably fangirled-out, and were frozen and in awe of the jester as he stood in front of you.

('No way,' you had said, 'you are actually real.' You distinctly watched as Rascal's face, and Ulric's and Brute's and Brooha's all dropped in confusion.)

The safe word was said and you awoke back in your room. But it was confusing. How were you so good at it? There were no failed attempts of actually getting to the destination.

Something outside flies past the window. Something colourful. It happens out of the corner of your eye in the middle of a song. Your fingers halt, and so does your heart. Your eyes are too slow to have made it to the window in time. Whatever it was, it sure made you pause. But when you stare out that window for what seems like minutes, seeing if it will happen again, it does not, so your fingers regain motion to continue the chords and you carefully tear your eyes away and back to the group.

An hour later practise has ended but the night has not. The five of you sit around on the couches and beanbags talking about life at nearly 11 o'clock. Nina had already discussed with you about staying the night at hers when the others leave. A twenty minute walk home in the middle of the night alone did not seem like a breeze.

(Hehe sorry)

"Pass the pick (y/n)?" Jonah notions to you from across the circle on his beanbag, then to the table beside the couch where the turquoise guitar pick lays. You go to reach for it, then pass it to him.

There is a mass of something in the corner of the window, you notice from the corner of your eye again, and you turn to see what it is.

You freeze. Everything stops, your heart, your body, the blood pumping through your veins. Horror quickly fills in return, skin recoiling and blood running cold.

There in the window is an unnatural smiling face of a clown.

No.

A jester.

Rascal.

And his bright orange eyes are plastered right on you.