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

19

TW: (Brief) contemplations of death. Mentions of suicide, mentions of consciousness theory, multiverse, and other MIND BENDING paraphernalia that you've ever laid your eyes upon! I can't wait for you all to read, but I ask that you take the warnings into consideration.

Chapter song: Headlock - Imogen Heap

I've put some ambience above ^^^
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You stand in the centre of the end of the world.
There's a sharp wind that slices through the remains that used to be your home. The air is thick and dusty, creating an unnatural brown ashen sky above. When you look out into the distance, there is a vast sea of worn down buildings, jutting from the earth in all directions. Their skeletal frames are singed black.

Cars scatter the streets, if they can even be called that, upturned in ditches or hurled against nearby buildings. They are nothing more than heaps of blackened hollowed-out shells with the occasional flicker of a flame still burning inside, stubborn cinders refusing to die.

The isolation, the stillness and disquiet presses against your chest, opening an eerie pit of unease in your stomach. The only sounds are the low groan of the wind or crackle of a dying flame. The familiarity of this place that has now been reduced to a wasteland is unsettling.

Debris strewn everywhere: glass, wood, signs, poles. They all add to the grimy layer of embers, dirt and ash that you walk along. You continue on, passing your workplace. The front of the store has collapsed in on itself, tables and chairs having been thrown around and now laying on their sides collecting dust.

Your apartment block is next, barely even recognisable with the fallen-in roof. Even the local park nearby is deserted and ruined. What's left of the trees and bushes are charred and lifeless, some broken in two. The lake in the centre is a sickly grey filled with stray do- I mean – logs and branches, plastics and other belongings. There is even a plastic chair sticking out of the water.
You pass by one of the bushes, averting your gaze when it unfortunately lands on the rotting carcass of a swan. You see enough of its dirtied white feathers strung into the branches to know that it died a horrible death.

For a reason unknown, you continue returning to this particular park. You hadn't visited while it was still alive, despite it only being a five minute walk from your apartment. You know what you're searching for and you know where it is, but you somehow feel the need to see it again.

You arrive by the side of the lake where a soggy newspaper lays, half of it dipped in the water. Carefully, you pull it free. The ink has been rubbed off on the side that was dangling in the water, but the other side is still as clear as day.

20th of December – DOOMSDAY DECLARED: RAGING STORMS POINT TO THE END OF ALL LIFE

That's in ten days from now, meaning you are currently in the future. Reading that headline again wasn't satisfying in the slightest. You had found the newspaper your first time in this post-apocalyptic version of your world and now you've walked this city countless times before so you don't need to read it to remember.

With a sigh, you finally let it slip from your fingers and it lands onto the dry ground with a wet plop.

Then, something different happens, you hear an amused huff come from behind you.

"Enjoying the view? I certainly am." A low and smooth voice cuts into the silence that you've been so accustomed to.
You spin on your heels, knowing exactly who that voice belongs to.

There he is. The Boogeyman stands there draped in his black coat that melts into the ground, the edges fading into shadow. His raven hair rises in sharp spiked strands and he already has his crystal grey eyes locked on your form like a target.