Adventures of the Beyond

A/n- Featuring characters from Adventure Time! , Chowder, The Marvelous Misadventures of Flapjack, Samurai Jack, Regular Show, Dexter's Laboratory, The Powerpuff Girls, and other Cartoon Network shows. Sort-of inspired by Homestuck. Placed here because…too many series for just a one crossover. The first chapter is very Chowder-centric but it really is an Adventure Time fic. No. Really. Promise. ;D

The Land of Ooo. A beautiful place, pockmarked with magical beings and extraordinary places. It usually seemed warm and inviting; however, now it was covered with snow and quaking randomly.

The Princess, Bonnibel Bubblegum, hurriedly ran to and fro in her castle, checking on her servants. The girl hastily contacted her fellow Dukes and Duchesses and Princes and Princesses. She even called Marceline, but abruptly hung up when her telephone began spouting demons from its receiver. Bonnibel guessed that Marceline was in the Nightosphere.

All across the land, the princesses and other royalty told her, it was snowing. Earthquakes shook the lands without warning. It frightened Princess Bubblegum, and the others. A week ago Princess Bubblegum had dispatched Finn and Jake to check on the Ice King- she had a feeling he was up to no good, and that the snowfall was his fault. Finn and Jake obliged, and quickly began verbally attacking the Ice King on arrival, as was their custom. When Finn claimed that the "Ice King's being jank with us, bro," the Ice King, furious, threw Gunter at them. Finn and Jake returned, and informed the Princess that the Ice King denied involvement with the whole fiasco.

That left a probability that scared Princess Bubblegum- another potential apocalypse. The pink-haired lady cringed visibly as she thought of mushroom clouds racing quickly across the sky, wrecking the world and leaving destruction in its wake.

The Princess frowned and glanced at her phone. She picked up the receiver and slowly dialed a number.

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP…

Yo! Haha! This is Finn!

And I'm Jake, sucka!

Don't forget it!

If you're hearing this we're off adventuring! So, like, back off!

Princess Bubblegum sighed and cradled her head in her hands, leaning against the phone stand. Today was going to be a terrible day. She could feel it-

Her thoughts were interrupted by the room she was in shaking violently.

It had been winter in Marzipan for too long.

Snow, like powdered sugar, frosted the houses as far as the eye could see. In the distance, swirling sugar-like snowflakes twirled around in a beautiful dance. Previously colorful rooftops of parading pinks and oranges had turned into wet grays and sparkling white under the snow. Chimneys puffed constantly.

In the cramped confines of a small room sat two chefs, their apprentices, and a small candleholder.

The purple-haired boy sat complacently on a large recliner, swinging his feet above the hardwood floor. A pink-haired girl shivered next to him. In the cold, 'cooties' were long forgotten, and the boy leaned towards her for warmth. The fireplace blazed beside them.

The adults were huddled on the couch together, whispering urgently. A bluish-tinted man was excitedly gesturing to the others. A large woman frowned and shook her head. An older woman, with graying hair, peered at the children often.

The only person left alone was a skinny boy. He was thirteen, the same age as the other two. His teeth protruded awkwardly from his mouth; his hair dangled limply into his face. He seemed to have a green pallor. In his hands were several large books. He sat protectively in front of the fire, shielding it with his body. Any observer would assume he was trying to keep warm. However, they would have been wrong.

He was keeping the fire warm.

For once his profession wasn't useless. Being a candleholder was sort of a joke, to be honest. The only function candleholders had in society were as status symbols for the richer families. Candleholders would stand around social events and keep the room lit with the candles on their head- even the description of the job itself sounded ridiculous. Candleholders were falling out of favor- had been for a long while. And nobody had any use for poor candleholders. Who would you impress with raggedly dressed entertainers? It was a novel and outdated practice.

Or, at least Gorgonzola had thought. The books in his hands, however, had been telling him otherwise. He'd always known he could start and keep fires going; it was a sort of quietly-kept secret around his place of employment. Stilton, his master, had never needed to buy gas or coal for his fireplace as the other shopkeepers had; the man would merely start the fire and keep it going himself merely with his presence. Gorgonzola had done the same countless times before. Now, though, it was not merely a useful skill. It was keeping his friends alive.

Coal and gas had been scarce the last few weeks. Gorgonzola had peered outside multiple times a day for weeks, and each time he ventured a gaze outside the smoke rising from chimneys had diminished. Another fire had gone out.

Gorgonzola ignored his morbid train of thought and continued thinking about the books. He'd always thought being a candleholder was, well, lame. However, these books had told him otherwise. These books, given to him by his master, Stilton, contained worlds of information.

Stilton. Gorgonzola frowned in his spot at the fireplace. The elderly lady in the room- Truffles- glanced at him curiously before looking away when Gorgonzola glared at her.

Gorgonzola huffed and scooted dangerously close to the fire, lost in thought. Stilton was another thing- person- Gorgonzola had been mistaken about. The way his master had behaved was shameful. Stilton looked homeless at first glance, with a tangled, bristly beard and a lot of facial hair. The man had no sense of etiquette, and if he did then held no regard for it. Stilton burped and farted and was utterly rude to everyone, including his apprentice. He was utterly dishonorable.

Or so Gorgonzola had thought. The young teen's beliefs were quickly squashed, however, two days ago.

The room is dark, the only light coming from the steady and unwavering fire in the fireplace. A red-bearded man stomps around loudly, unaware of his loudness. The man grabs things quickly from the living room downstairs, making a big disturbance as he shoves them into a suitcase. The burly man peers around and inspects a quilt. After a moment or so of thought, he takes it and puts it into a bag.

Upstairs, Gorgonzola wakes, tangled in his sheets. Sheets that are supposed to be white, but after going through years of being unwashed are a sickly yellow. The teenager's eyes open wide at the sounds downstairs. Gorgonzola's hand reaches uneasily towards his bedside table. The teen finally grasps onto what he was so furtively searching for- a small dagger.

He creeps silently out of his room and down the stairs, making sure to avoid the creaky third-to last step completely. Gorgonzola's eyes are awake and attentive. There is someone in the house. The teenager rubs his eyes a final time and pushes his green hair out of his face. He makes his way easily into the den and hides behind the frame. He sees a large figure and weighs his options.

Gorgonzola could rush the man, but the intruder seems to be much larger than him. It is probably not a good idea.

The intruder turns around. He has a beard, red hair-

It is Stilton.

Gorgonzola's eyebrows shoot up. Stilton stares at Gorgonzola for a moment, then sighs audibly and continues packing.

Not wanting to enrage his master, the boy stands quietly, waiting for an explanation.

Without turning around, the man speaks. "I'm leavin' for a while," Stilton speaks, his actions hurried. "I'm not gonna be back soon. So when I'm gone, go to Mung Daal's. We got somethin' set up."

Gorgonzola opens his mouth to speak, but Stilton interrupts him.

"It's none of your business, kid," Stilton says. Gorgonzola grimaces and crosses his arms, even though he knows Stilton can't see him.

Stilton pauses in packing for a moment, and speaks anyways. "It's not. But I'm…I'm goin' around the neighborhood. Maybe out. A buncha people's fires keep dyin. I'm gonna try and help with that. Pretty soon fires aren't gonna be the only thing dyin', know it? There's no more gas. No more coal. Everyone's freezin' to death."

Stilton finishes shoving items into his beaten brown suitcase. The man zips it up quickly and picks it up. He turns to Gorgonzola. The bearded man inspects Gorgonzola for a moment, as if deciding if he was worthy. Finally, he nods.

"I want you to have these. You need 'em." The man reaches down and picks up a few books. The man drags his suitcase behind him as he approaches Gorgonzola. "Take 'em."

The boy takes the books. They are heavy, and Gorgonzola's arms wobble.

Stilton frowns and steps around Gorgonzola, approaching the exit to his shop. He opens the door and prepares to step outside of the threshold. He pauses, however, as if reconsidering. Finally, the man turns around.

"Read 'em. Learn 'em. You can do the stuff in 'em if you try. I didn't take you in so you could be crap at life." The man leaves without the shutting the door. The door waves in the harsh winds for a moment before a cold breeze slams it. Gorgonzola startles at the sudden sound, and then calms.

What now?

The park was cold. Steam trailed from the bird-creature's mouth as he shoveled snow. A warm August had been suddenly transformed into a harsh winter, and the green and yellow leaves of the trees were now covered with ice and snow.

"Benson is such a tool," the bluejay muttered. The creature beside him nodded twice in succession before bending over and getting another shovelful of snow. The creature seemed to be smaller than the bluejay, and looked like a raccoon.

"Why is it so cold anyways, man? It was, like, ninety a week ago. Everyone was like, swimming and junk," the raccoon said rather poetically as he flung snow from his shovel into a large pile.

The bluejay grimaced. "Yeah, man, it was super hot out there. Everyone was, like, in shorts and stuff. Even Margaret." The bluejay smiled and closed his eyes, as if remembering.

The raccoon groaned and smacked the bluejay upside the head. "Ow, dude, what?" the bluejay snapped. The raccoon rolled his eyes.

"Can't you not think of Margaret for like, five seconds, Mordecai?"

Mordecai rubbed his head and sighed. "I don't think about her all of the time. Shut up, Rigby," he said preemptively. The raccoon rolled his eyes yet again and kept shoveling snow.

The two worked in companionable silence for a few moments before the earth began shaking. Rigby looked up quizzically. "Whoa, dude. Feel that?"

Mordecai looked thoughtful. "Yeah, I felt it-"

The two were flung to the ground rather suddenly as the park quaked violently.

Throughout the universe, something important shook, its shockwaves traversing through different lands and touching different people. The veil was torn, the boundaries were shattered, and something broke. The lands of the universe were placed under strain, and they ripped apart.

And somewhere in the deep, dark confines of space, a swirling-with-white planet gained new inhabitants.