#brought to you by me stumbling into one of a BEETLE with an EIGHT POINT STAR ON ITS BACK and just HOWLING about it

[blujayonthewing]

WHERE WAS THIS ONE LAST YEAR

[youllallriseintheink]

Infinity: chapter 3- A way out.

Time to start the “where did this character end up?” game.

---

To Allison Pendle, immortality has been a blessing, but also a curse. In the past century since her transformation, she’d seen the downfall of Joey Drew Studios, joined a gang in which she worked under Lacie Benton and Shawn Flynn, gone through rehab, seen a multitude a countries, been a singer, an actress, a missionary, a mother, and a drug dealer, rubbed shoulders with Wally as a performing circus freak, gone to rehab, been rich, been homeless, tried almost every hobby imaginable, read more books, met more people, done more drugs, and had generally lived life to the fullest. The past little bit, though, she was bored with it. She’d begun to envy older people, who were able to slow down with age, and eventually die. And so, she eventually returned to Brightdale.

Brightdale as Allison remembered it, was a small and mostly unnotable little town, but it was a very significant place to Allison. It was where, in her time randomly traveling the country in her early twenties, she’d first discovered that witchcraft was real.

In present, the place had been deserted entirely. As Allison walked the empty streets lined with overgrowth, a delightfully haunted feeling came over her. She’d have to explore these dusty houses when she was finished with her mission. It was on the edge of town that she found the house of the witch she had stayed with and stolen from. Its windows and doors were thoroughly grown over with vines roots at this point. Thankfully, Allison had half-way expected the place would be patroled by some sort of guardian creature and had thus come prepared with a shotgun and a machete. There was nothing special about the foliage and it gave way fairly easily, allowing Allison in.

Within it, Allison found the place nearly untouched- nicely lit, no dust, nothing. Was the witch still here? Allison raised her gun and listened as creaking wooden steps gave away the old woman's presence. "I have a reversal shield on me. Don't try anything," Allison asserted. It was a lie, but not one to be taken lightly- casting a spell, especially an offensive one, on a reversal shield could very easily prove deadly.

"Allison?" the witch growled. "Very well, you fucking thief. What do want from me?"

"Ingredient number 30."

The old woman went to her spice cabinet, took out the ingredient, and threw it at Allison. "Anything else?"

"Well, there is something I'd like to ask you. You don't actually look like that, do you?"

The witch smiled wryly. "No... I actually look quite a bit like you. But you see, if I looked like you, then boys would be following me home all the time, getting to learn my secrets because they're after the one between my legs. It's protective to look like this."

Allison nodded. "That's what I thought. So," she pulled a recipe of sorts out of her pocket, "do you think this could kill you?"

The witch stared on in fear.

"Not that I want to kill you. I just think we should have the option."

---

It was the middle of the day when Henry received that very important letter (not the first Very Important Letter he'd received from someone in that bygone studio!). He had been in his office at the official headquarters of Disney, and the letter had been brought to him by his wife, Elaine. It read:

Dear Henry Stein,

This is  one of the immortals. I have found a potion that can cure our immortality. If you'd like it, or just like to see the rest of us again, me in Brightdale, Ohio at seven at night exactly one week from today.

See you soon (oops, that sounds ominous),

-Allison Pendle

"What is it, honey?" Elaine asked. Elaine knew that Henry was immortal, along with with pretty much everything else about him. They'd been married for fifteen years now, from her late twenties to her early forties, and had fostered many children together. Henry loved her, and certainly didn't think of her as some mayfly pet. But he wouldn't have wanted to talk about this with anyone.

"Nothing," Henry responded, perfectly calm.

"Okay," Elaine said, leaving with a look on her face that suggested that she suspected things maybe weren't.

Henry immediately tossed the letter in the trash and attempted to focus on the paperwork on his desk- fourums on the theme park he was planning on building with the help of Bertrum Piedmont. Finding he couldn't, Henry turned over the sheet and turned to his oldest coping mechanism- drawing. He was good now- all that time loop stuff was forgotten. But he was never in a million, billion, trillion years going to risk seeing Joey Drew's face again. Infinity didn't scare him much nowadays, and it scared him infinitely less than that.

---

The next house that the letter found its way to was a big, but run-down. Not many knew it, but it was where a pair of extremely well-established drug lords operated. As of right now, there were several people passed out on the crack-dusted leather couches, one of them being Lacie Benton, who was hungover from having used more substances than she could name the night before. "Hey Lacie. Letter from your old lover is here," Shawn called.

"Which one?" Lacie returned.

"The Raven."

Lacie rolled her eyes. "It was one kiss. She wanted to try it. Are you going to tease me about that until the very ends of time?"

"Probably," Shawn replied, gathering up some crack from the end table and snorting it. He couldn't wait until their next shipment would arrive, later in the afternoon.

Groggy, she got up and took the letter from Shawn's hands.

"Oh my God."

"What? Is she coming back to us?"

"No, it's better than that. She wants to give us a suicide drug!"

Shawn shared her excitement. At this point, they were both due for life-sentences, and for them, that would mean jail for centuries or millennia. Not anymore. Not with these. They were going to that meeting.

---

"So, Samuel Lawrence, explain to us why we should allow you, a man currently on parole and with many, many felonies in your past however distant, become a priest."

Sammy took a deep breath. In a similar courtroom to the one he now stood in, he'd answered the same question five years ago when he'd argued why he should be allowed in a seminary. now he had to argue it again in order to be licensed. At very least, the church where he'd done his practicum had agreed to hire him if he got through this, so he wouldn't have to make this same speech a third time.

"Your honour. I do not deny my crimes. However, as you said, they took place now nearly a century ago. I led unofficial church groups in prison which turned many people to better behaviour. I has released from my sentence- 7 charges of attempted murder at eight years each and seven charges of first degree murder at twenty years each- literal centuries early for my good behaviour, an absolutely unprecedented decision. And as one of my letters of recommendation will tell you, I stayed in prison an extra year to support the people I'd met there. What's more, and I know this is old news to you, I am immortal. The amount of life experience I could gain is immense, and I want to climb my way up through the catholic church system so that I can pass it on. Even now, I am 133 years old. Through prison and in my music career before it, I heard the stories of more people than I can count. I have experience in dealing with the worst sinners, and as we all know, a church is a hospital for sinners, not a museum for saints. There are few people with as much life experience as me and fewer whose minds are still sharp. In short, I have made a positive impact on people's lives, and I want to get myself in a position where I'll be able to do that for as many people as possible. Thank you."

Sammy was breathing heavily from emotion as he finished his speech and sat back down. The judge said some words that Sammy barely registered about letting the jury decide. Sammy's stomach knotted up and he felt like either screaming or disappearing.

Half an hour later, he emerged from the courthouse elated, as a licensed priest. The letter was in his mailbox once he got home. Sammy laughed, then ripped it up. Today was the first step on the path to his destiny. Why would he in a million years want to die?

---

A copy of the letter came to Bickmore Insane asylum. The receptionist opened it and saw that it was addressed to one of the patients, Joseph "Joey" Drew. The receptionist did not feel badly for reading the patient's mail. For one thing, Joseph couldn't have read it anyhow. For another, Joseph honestly deserved it.

Rumour had it that decades ago- and it was decades, since Joseph was one of the immortals- Joseph had been given l a sentence spanning centuries for seven charges of attempted murder, twenty-something charges of murder, and innumerable charges of unlawful imprisonment. One of his victims had been the murder of a seventeen-year-old boy, and as a result, prison was not at all kind to Joseph. The other prisoners would beat the life out of him regularly, doing things to him that would kill most people, including giving him severe brain damage and forcing him to stumble around for hours on end as his brain repaired itself. As a result, Joseph was quickly moved to protective custody, and then to solitary confinement.

After the trauma of his treatment by the other prisoners and the solitary confinement had left him far too anxious and aggressive to be kept with the others, he was sent to Bickmore, where he at first seemed to make a quick recovery. There was, after all, a physical component to trauma, and Joseph's brain was just as resilient as the rest of him. But every time he seemed nearly ready to be transferred back to prison, he would cause a scene with panic visible in his eyes. He would begin to scream nonsense about beetles in his veins, throw objects, and attack faculty members and fellow patients. It didn't matter how many times it was explained to Joseph that he would be transferred right back to protective custody this time and the other prisoners would not be able to hurt him. Joseph did not want to go back to prison, and would do anything to buy himself more time.

As time went on, Joseph's apparent breaks from reality became more and more realistic. He would question faculty members about whether he was going back to prison, and attack them out of suspicion. The final straw, however, was when, on the first day he'd been allowed near other patients unsupervised since his last outburst, stabbed a 60-year-old schizophrenia patient with a butter knife and then a fork because he was convinced she was a spy for "the prison system." Joseph was pulled off of her, put into permanent solitary confinement, and sedated. Even now, he was in solitary, treated with the extreme care one would use for a dangerous beast, and kept heavily sedated.

Of course, the secretary didn't know any of that. Unless one had access to his files, that was all rumour- myth. She passed the letter onto her superior, who called Allison to ask that she send the drug. It was about time that someone put Joseph Drew out of his misery.

---

Thomas Connor had been making pancakes for his family when Boris brought him the mail in his mouth. Thomas smiled and took it with no word but a pat on Boris' head. The mail that day consisted of two letters and a newspaper. The first letter was just a bill, but the second one was from Allison Pendle.

What could that crazy bitch want from him? Thomas didn't know. A while ago he would have been mad, but now it had been so long that he honestly didn't feel anything. At least he had Alice to talk to if it was romantic. "Boris, could you take over for me?" he asked, moving over to the kitchen table to open the letter. Once he'd read it over, he crumpled it up, then uncrumpled it and found a fresh sheet of paper on which to write a reply.

Dear Allison

Thomas paused. He supposed he ought to keep this formal, at least at first, and wrote down her last name before continuing.

What are you up to? I don’t think I’ve seen you in person since that one time with the New York City Police.

Me, I’m still an engineer. Not for GENT- they went out of business a while after I left them. I’d worked for a few different places, but most recently (ha- “recently.” It was decades ago!) I’ve been  hired by an elite team of researchers who were looking into the ink machine. We eventually figured out how to save the people within these ink shells. You see, some of them have a human soul and a toon presence, and some get a third, demonic presence mixed in. We just had to separate them and give them separate bodies. Or cubes, in the case of the demons and toons. Don’t want them running away on us, do we? Anyhow, the humans took first priority. I saved that Buddy kid that we met and kept him at my house for a few years so that he could finish his schooling. After we were done with the people though, some bleeding heart thought we should give proper bodies to the cartoons because they “had over two decades of life experience, could feel pain and emotion,” you see where this is going. I thought it was stupid, but I was being paid to be an engineer, and if this was to be my project, so be it.

Thomas stopped and looked up. An Edgar (yes, an. Thomas had two) was playing Snakes and Ladders with Bendy and Alice on the floor. Dog, who was one one of his three Borises and the only one who walked on four legs like, well, a dog, was currently getting confronted by two sets of Charleys and Barleys for making his other Edgar cry. The Boris lowered himself to the ground in a doglike show of submission and apology, which the butcher gang members seemed to accept.

I guess they were right. Bringing them all back was a gradual process, and we could adopt some of them out. You’d be surprised how few people want to adopt a bunch of living cartoons with a truckload of trauma and no knowledge of the real world, though. I ended up with eleven of them. And it was supposed to be temporary, but now there’s a whole bunch of em’ I don’t want to separate (butcher gang trios especially) and, well, I guess I’m stuck with them. Not that I don’t like them, but I kind of wish I weren’t so tied down. I feel like I could do great things as an engineer, and while I love my kids, I kind of don’t want them to be my eternity, you know?

So that’s all to say, no. I can’t die. Can’t abandon my kids. But I’d love to see you again. Maybe I could come into town and meet up?

-Your fellow immortal, Thomas Connor

[thuktunflishithy]

Roses and Ladybugs, Chapter I

In one moment, the desert was as quiet as the grave, the noon sun beating down all sound with its heat. No birds flitted through the cloudless sky, and no animals scurried across the red sands, for there were no shadows to hide in, not even at the base of the sole mountain for miles around.In the next moment, a circular stone platform shone with light, extending to the heavens in a luminous cylinder. As it did, four silhouettes descended, becoming more substantial as they neared the ground. Almost as quickly as it had come, the light faded, leaving the four figures standing standing alone in the desert."Wow," Steven breathed, instinctively raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. "Where are we?""A long-forgotten place," Garnet replied casually. She looked to the mountain. "We need to be there, at the top.""What's up there?""Something we definitely don't want Peridot finding," Pearl said, frowning as she studied the mountaintop.Steven gasped, hands flying to his cheeks. "Is it another geode? Or a giant laser cannon! Ooh, is it a spaceship?""Maybe it'll be shaped like a foot this time," Amethyst snorted."The thing up there is far more important than a spaceship," Garnet interjected, gravely. "Let's get moving."She stepped off first, followed shortly after by Pearl and Amethyst. Steven hurried after them, still trying to shield his eyes from the sun."How are we gonna get up there?" he asked. "Maybe I can float us to the top.""There's no need, Steven," Pearl said. "Look, don't you see the path carved into the mountainside?"Steven's face sagged. "We're going to walk all the way up there? But it's so tall..." Garnet allowed herself a small smile. "You can do it, Steven." That brought back the smile to the half-gem's face. "Yeah, you're right. Maybe this'll be fun! I can totally do this!"

                                                             0

Steven collapsed in a heap, panting heavily as he rolled onto his sweat-stained back. He tried to open his eyes, only to close them again when the light of the sun assailed them "I can't do this," he muttered quietly. "Aw, come one, Steven!" Amethyst exclaimed cheerfully as she walked by. "We're almost halfway there!" "Halfway there?" Steven practically melted into the ground. Which, considering how hot he was feeling, seemed like a distinct possibility. "I thought you said we were almost at the top..." Pearl reached into her gem, light flickering about her wrist, then produced a water bottle. Crouching down, she offered it to him, smiling. "Don't drink too quickly," she warned. "And sit up before you get sick." "Those are with cold floors, Pearl," Steven sighed, sitting up as he accepted the water. He took a sip, then a longer one. "I didn't know it could get this hot." "Oh, if you think this is bad, I remember when we once visited some volcano that had a cache hidden inside. I was sure Amethyst was going to turn yellow..." "Wouldn't that be cool?" Amethyst said, plopping down to Steven. "Maybe I could pretend to be that donut girl and get us all some free snacks, huh?" Steven chuckled. "A donut would be pretty good right now." "We can get donuts once we get to the top," Garnet said. Steven drained the rest of the bottle, then got up. He peered upwards, staring at where the mountain disappeared into the clouds. "This is going to take forever," he grumbled. "The Big Donut's gonna be closed by the time we get up there!" "If we hurry, I'm sure we'll make it," Pearl assured. Steven frowned as he considered her words. Then, he jumped. He was already soaring up to the clouds before anyone could react. The bare face of the mountain brushed dangerously close by, but he continued upwards. "Whoah, whoah," he said to himself after a particularly close call. "Maybe I should stop here." He gently alighted back onto the pathway, letting out a sigh of relief. He looked over the edge to see if the others were visible, but the fog obscured everything from sight. "Guys, I'm okay!" he called down. "You won't be when Pearl gets her hands on you!" Amethyst called back, her snickering audible even from his vantage point. "Steven Quartz Universe, get back down here this instant or you're not getting any donuts!" Pearl shrieked. "But I'm fine!" "Steven, just stay there until we get to you," Garnet called out, calmly. "Okay!" Steven replied, then sat down on the pathway. The fog cooled things down a little, though the humidity still made it uncomfortable. Steven wiped some sweat from his brow, then started twiddling his thumbs, waiting. A minute must've passed before he heard a soft tapping on the stone pathway, like something with hard feet or shoes was walking nearby. Steven looked around, but saw nothing. The sound was getting closer, until he realized that a silhouette in the fog was approaching from downslope. He began to sweat again, but not from the heat. "Guys?" he asked aloud. A few moments passed, then the figure emerged from the fog and revealed itself to be a small ram, no bigger than a beagle. Its tiny hooves clattered on the stone as it approached him, regarding him with beady black eyes. "Oh," Steven said. "Hey there, little guy. What are you doing up here?" The ram blinked at him, then continued walking uphill. "Wait!" Steven got up and followed after the ram, almost breaking into a jog. "Where are you going?" The ram didn't seem to acknowledge him as it continued up the hill. Steven decided to hang back a little, but still kept a good pace as he followed it. As he did, he noticed footprints on the pathway, faint impressions in the sparse sand. They certainly didn't belong to the ram, but he couldn't figure out whom they belonged to; they looked like twin sets of horizontal planks. "You wouldn't happen to know who left these, would you?" he asked the ram. "They didn't happen to be green, or called you a clod, did they?" The ram was as silent as before. A second hopped down from a rock and joined it, only briefly glancing back at Steven. The half-gem frowned, then decided to quicken his pace. The fog gave way, and Steven narrowed his eyes as the sun returned with a vengeance. It was closer to the horizon, now, but it was still painfully bright. He stopped for a moment to let his eyes adjust, then gasped when he realized what he was seeing. He'd reached the top of the mountain, revealing a flat top. Dozens of monoliths littered the area, all made of the same material as the pathway. In the low light of the sun, they cast long shadows, and he stepped into one, relieved to be out of the dry heat. He looked up at the monolith, and realized there was a carving of a ram's face made in the rock. It almost reminded him of the murals he saw in the Gem temples, but less... alien. He glanced over at the rams, and managed a small laugh. "I, uh, guess this is your place, huh?" The rams walked past him, then stopped. One turned to look at him, while the other turned to a pathway between two of the monoliths. Steven stared for a few moments. "You want me to go there?" No reply, as usual. He sucked in a breath, then hesitantly stepped forward. When the rams didn't move, he walked towards the pathway, then turned around, only to gasp. "Whoah..." In the center of the mountaintop, there was a flat circle on the ground fifteen feet across, swirling in alternating bands of black and white. For a few moments, Steven merely gaped at the sight, eyes wide. "What is this?" he murmured to himself. He was so distracted by the sight, that he didn't notice the gem monster until it was almost too late. It was more out of pure reflex than anything else that he threw up his bubble. It was fortunate, too; the impact was enough to send him flying into one of the monoliths, knocking off the top half. Debris rained down on the bubble as the monolith crumbled, then stopped. Steven turned off the bubble, then pulled up his shield, holding it in the stance Garnet had taught him. The monster resembled a rhinoceros beetle, if beetles could get up to eight feet tall and had bladed limbs. Its mottled blue carapace rumbled as it chittered at him, moving forward on four of its legs. The gem, Steven saw, was located where one of its compound eyes should've been, and was circular with a hexagonal cut. Steven threw his shield, catching the monster in the thorax. It stumbled back, only to quickly recover and charge forward. Steven pulled up another shield and prepared to dodge, waiting. The monster quickly cleared the distance between them- -then stopped when a sword suddenly emerged from its chest. A half-moment passed, then there was a gush of wind and smoke as the monster was poofed. Steven closed his eyes as the wind brushed past him, then opened them again, hesitantly. He gasped when he did. A man was standing where the monster had been, long red cape fluttering behind him. He was tall, almost as tall as Garnet, and was dressed in a tattered white robe that looked like something from the Lonely Blade game Amethyst had gotten him. In one hand, he had a long sword, and in the other he held the monster's gem. A broad straw hat hid his face from sight, casting his features in shadow. The man straightened, revealing oriental features. He had a long beard that ruffled in the wind, and there was something behind his eyes, something Steven couldn't put his finger on. "Wow..." Steven murmured. The man blinked, as if surprised. "Um, hello," he said awkwardly, with a faint clipped accent. "Are you alright?" "That was amazing!" Steven exclaimed, shield fading as he hurried over. "Howdidyoudothatandwhereareyoufromandwhat'syourname?" The man was visibly caught off guard by that. His eyes widened, then narrowed a little. He sheathed the sword, then put his hands together and offered a slight bow. "There are those who call me... Jack." Steven shot his hand forward. "Hi Jack, I'm Steven!" Jack stared for a moment, then gingerly shook his hand. His palms were rough and calloused, Steven noticed, but he didn't mind. Letting go, Steven stared at the sword. It was clearly Japanese in origin, but there was something about how the light caught on the blade that told Steven there was more to it than met the eye. "Where did you come from?" He asked again. "I could ask you the same," Jack replied. "I was up here to guard the time portal from that monster that attacked you." "Time portal?" Before Jack could reply, a shrill cry interrupted him. "Steven!" Slender arms wrapped around Steven, squeezing the air from his lungs as Pearl pulled him in close. "Are you alright? We heard the commotion, but we-" Pearl suddenly stopped, then pulled back. Steven turned, and realized she was staring at Jack. "Jack?" whispered Pearl, eyes wide as saucers. Steven heard the others approaching. Jack glanced at each one of them, then turned back to Pearl and bowed again. "It is good to see you again, Pearl. The same goes to you, Garnet, and to..." Jack blinked. "Er..." "Amethyst," Amethyst supplied, brow scrunched at him. "Do I know you?" "I do not know you," Jack replied. "But I am pleased you make your acquaintance." "Wait, how do you know Pearl and Garnet?" Steven asked, squeezing out of Pearl's grip. He turned to Garnet. "How do you know him?" Behind him, Pearl sighed. "It's... a long story."