#mxthshadxws

art by @jujulebee!

Bonus:

>”Hello i’m Jack, today we’re out in space, specifically we’re in the High Wilderness, which is space but in an entirely different timeline than the one I live in.”

>As he lazily does a flip in zero gravity the chat floods with even more questions asking how he can cross timelines

>”The High Wilderness has air, it’s just thin as all fuck, and colder than the sad empty void my ex calls her heart. I can hop timelines ‘cuz magic. Many of my friends are from other timelines, this stream is broadcasting to other timelines actually, I’m very thorough.”

>He does a very wiggly, complex maneuver that puts him back on the ground. You can see where he is now, see everything from the first person perspective of whatever camera he’s using to stream. Likely his cybernetic eye.

>The place is beautiful and strange, so very strange.

>he’s definitely in space, some dinky little planetoid covered in odd plants that sway like seaweed and kelp, strange sail-like trees with tiny black leaves like moss against the trunk. Harsh howling winds blow across their numerous hollows and produce a haunting flute-like sound

>far away, in the star-speckled void, are vibrantly hued dust clouds and nebulae, and the dark dusty band of a nearby asteroid field.

>something bright and glowing gold scampers up to him, speaking a language that hurts to hear. The stream glitches and flickers for a second before a very cute graphic of jack tangled up in computer wires comes up, proclaiming technical difficulties. It doesn’t last long before the stream comes back and the strange language the little glowing creature was speaking is wholly understandable. This language is Correspondence, it doesn’t so much as translate clearly into words as it does notions, feelings, and concepts that one can both hear and feel

>”Hullo friend, star friend, feeder friend, soulless and sweet. Will you furrow the earth today? sail the stars today? challenge gods today? I’m hungry... your boat came.” its voice is without gender but is high like a child’s, it looks something like a very small star, something like a clump of souls, and something like a cat or a monkey. It floats effortlessly through the thin air to nuzzle Jack’s face with it’s flame-haloed head. Jack scratches it behind what might be ears, or what might be gills. It’s very hard to tell what does what on something so strange.

>Jack says something back to it that suggests affection and warmth on the tail end of a gentle scolding. The little glowing thing pulsates like a beating heart and perches on Jack’s shoulders. The chat is filled with ‘awws’ and ‘dawws’ and further questioning as to who/what the fuck that thing is

>”This is Glimmer, a ‘judgements heart’, i picked them up during my last trip here. They’re sweet and warm and I love them. Say hi Glim”

>Glimmer says hi back and Jack grabs a garden hoe off the ground.

>”Today’s itinerary is getting these seeds in the ground and then going hunting the the asteroid field out yonder.” He jerks a thumb towards the dusty gray line in the distance. Glimmer is singing to themself, a strange nonsensical song about dirt and wells and things that write poems for worms. Glim isn’t of much help as Jack tills the soil and plants strange seeds of all different shapes and sizes. He buries bulbs and roots, blankets odd black tumors with mulch, and transplants long creeping things with long hollow ‘leaves’ that thrum like violin strings whenever the wind blows.

>Jack doesn’t explain anything about the plants and seeds, only that they’re a surprise for later. His final act of botany is to plant a number of rose bushes and berry brambles around the base of the Ranch house, along with some other things that look like they’d climb just as eagerly.

>Gardening in space is much harder than it sounds considering everything wants to float away when you're not looking, but he sticks to his task and gets it done just in time for the door to his ranch house to open and reveal a tall, beautiful woman in red. Her long white hair kisses the back of her ankles, blowing elegantly in the wind as she seems to glide up to him. Her silver eyes glint with the same gentle affection that tugs the corners of her mouth up into the barest ghost of a smile. Other than that she's stonefaced and a little mean looking, like she'd cut you if you breathed at her wrong.

>The chat breaks out in heart eyes emojis and shouts of "WIFE", Jack is purring, a sweet whirring-rumble like an old school computer. He greets this woman with a soft, dreamy hello and a half-assed warning that he's streaming this live

>"Don't you fret lapin, I know how to behave." Her voice is sultry, almost mockingly so as she leans in to kiss him only to pull away before their lips can meet, and the chat howls that she's a tease. She introduces herself to the chat as Jeanne. She is one of Jack's fabled two wives and by god is she beautiful, ethereal, terrifying. She seems more fae than he does somehow, every move she makes is artwork, and the world is her canvas. The Caster chat is suddenly a sea of [message deleted] as some of the less... tactful comments about Jeanne removed at Jack's discretion. Everyone is warned to keep it in their pants or else he can and will curse them over the internet.

>That stops everyone cold. Quietly wondering if he is that powerful. He likely isn't but someone who can marry THAT and also afford a ranch in fucking SPACE is obviously not to be fucked with. So the chat settles down like a pack of scolded school children. Jack leaves Jeanne to linger in the fields, while he circles back behind the barn to wash off at least some of the dirt he is now caked in.

>You'd expect a well in such a rural setting, but no, instead there is something like a bastard cross between a normal stone well and a gas pump with a windmill strapped to its back end. Empty canisters litter the ground around it, some rusted, some new, all of them painted a ghastly florescent yellow that makes them easier to see among the dark foliage. Jack asks the chat to watch before he takes the pump and squeezes it into empty air. Fat globs of water, like shimmering soap bubbles, flow from the nozzle trembling and steaming in the cold cold air.

>He sticks his hands into it, giggling like a dork. He manages to get most of the dirt off before the glob evaporates or freezes... honestly it's hard to tell just exactly what happens to it after awhile. Mostly cleaned, he makes his way back to join Jeanne but is interrupted by a great scarred calamity of a Curator, shrieking about hunting, singing shrill songs about teal eyes, North, and meat.

>Jack explains to the confused chat, that this is Mr Veils, an associate of his. Veils is a Curator, a giant starry furred horned space bat native to the High Wilderness that drift about hoarding things, and selling said things to other species they come across. Most are nicknamed after their hoards. Mr Veils deals in fine fabrics... usually. But today Veils couldn't give a damn about buying or selling, it just wants to hunt.

>The chat is entranced really. Jack stows the last of the gardening tools in the barn before pointing towards the asteroid fields and asking Veils to meet him there. Veils flies off with a joyous cry and a thick layer of foam coating its lips. He watches the quickly shrinking dot that is Veils grow ever smaller before turning to Jeanne.

>"Race you." He says, sounding a little cocky. She merely lifts an eyebrow before leaping into the air, a pair of gorgeous moth's wings appearing at her back as she swoops away in the direction Veils went. Jack, along with the chat, shouts that she's cheating to which she replies

>"Since when has any witch ever played fair, lapin?" you can hear the smile in her voice, even over the wind as Jack shifts into something winged and powerful, flying right after her. He loses of course, landing grumpily on a large asteroid at the edge of the field, Glimmer still clinging stubbornly to his shoulder.

>From afar it looked barren, maybe even mournful, but up close it is lush, and wild, and strange, oh so very strange. Each and every chunk of pitted stone is alive with plants. Strange swaying things that look more at home at the bottom of the sea than space. Translucent, sail-like things, strange whistling trees, even stranger bushes and undergrowth that retreat into hollows in the rocks when disturbed. Each and every 'plant' clings stubbornly to the stones with armored roots. What isn't stone, or plant, is ore and ice glowing with what little light can be found here.

>Some ores are recognizable, others are impossible colors and textures that ooze when Jack touches them, or slither and shift. There are gems stuck in the stones as careless as sprinkles on a cupcake. There are animals here too, as equally strange as their surroundings. Eyeless deer leaping from stone to stone, scaly rabbits with tough hides to protect against the pebbles and grit blowing in one the winds, geese-like things with segmented necks and pincers like bobbit worms drag anything that scampers too close shrieking into the darkness of their burrows.

>There are birds and fish, massive crabs, strange mantas, jellies, cat-faced harpies, all bounding though the waving grasses and cavern mazes. Spider-legged beasts lap at exposed patches of ice, or gnaw lazily on transparent lichens.

>Jack is overcome with awe that is quickly replaced by annoyance as Veils swoops low and plucks some hapless beast off a rock and into the sky, the animal bellowing in fear. He remembers that he is here to hunt, not sight-see, and his entire demeanor changes. His body drops low, his movements suddenly fluid and catlike, but it's somehow clear that he hasn't changed shape again. This is all him.

>He slinks off like an animal, picking across the ground on all fours with surprising ease, as if  he were born out here. The chat keeps making 'dummy thicc' jokes

>"inutechy: hrn colonel, I'm trying to hunt, but I'm dummy thicc and the clap of my ass cheeks keeps alerting my prey."

>Jack is far too focused on the eyeless deer thing in front of him to be amused. His normal tactics won't work here, so he has to be fast and brutal. Just as he prepares to strike, the beast is shot cleanly and he just sort of sits there, dumbfounded.

>"Too slow." Taunts Jeanne as she flits off to do more damage elsewhere, gun still smoking. Jack scowls at her retreating back before slithering off to find more prey. Between Jeanne and Veils and his overall unfamiliarity with this place, Jack has a tough time catching anything, but manages to snag a few not-rabbits ("cannibalism" proclaimed the chat), and the evil geese-worms ("cursed. Thanks I hate it" whined the chat).

>Amid the gunfire and Veils... everything, another curator descends upon the scene. Much chubbier than Veils, with small folded ears, and a very stony expression. Its holding a much much smaller Curator with long rabbitlike ears and horns similar to Jack's antlers.

>Jack drops everything (mostly a half dead... something his teeth were in) to go and greet the pair of them. As he gets closer it's clear to all that even though the smaller bunny-like Curator is obviously a baby, that she is nearly the size of an average human adult. Curators are absurdly huge but Jack doesn't seem to mind. He greets them both with kisses and hugs, introducing them to the stream as Mr Stones and Galena. Galena is the obvious offspring of Jack and Stones, several people make rude remarks about Jack's apparent sluttiness and get banned on the SPOT. Stones wraps a wing around Jack and licks his face.

>Veils sings taunts from high on the winds, betting Stones that it can't out-hunt it this night. Stones merely huffs and tells Galena "Watch and learn." Before hauling its powerful body into the cold sky. What happens next is nothing short of amazing and a little humiliating on Veils end. Stones sails through the asteroids with grace and speed, plucking bobbit geese from their holes with practiced ease, fleeing scalebuns run right into its opened jaws and blind deer meet their ends before Stones even hauls their bodies off the ground.

>It's anything but gory, it's clean, efficient, magnificent and Jack just sort o f stands there, watching. It's clear he's given up on catching anything else tonight, so he might as well sit back and learn from a master. Galena watches too, babbling excitedly in Correspondence, flapping her leathery wings. Soon the fun is over and everyone is dragging their numerous kills into piles to further show off their prowess.

>And then a curious thing starts to happen. The Curators start to sing. Well, Veils sings, Stones raps surprisingly well with its monotone voice. Both spit lyrical disses tearing each other's hunting skills apart line by line. It's beautiful, it's BRUTAL. Jack mentions that normally he'd join in but with a pile as small as his it'd be a fools errand, but somehow he gets drawn into it anyway. His melodies swoop high, combined with echoing tones produced by glittering crystal shards made by his magic. As he predicted he gets lyrically evicerated by the others. Even Jeanne gets in on it, her voice is as pretty as the reset of her and She Does Not mince words.

>By the end everyone is grinning, packing up their kills to take home. Jack carries both his AND Jeanne's catches in his chest space, leaving the chat to wonder just how much room he has in that thing. Stones gives Jack a few parting licks before scooping up Galena and heading back to the ranch house, Veils leaves with something small and fluffy clenched in its teeth.

You’ve been up since very early this morning putting together the absolute best valentine’s day surprise anyone has ever seen. You’ve even gone so far as to make a detailed schedule of everything as well as several contingency plans in case something goes wrong. Hopefully nothing goes wrong. First on your list is a gentle prerequisite, a taste of the opulence to come, gift baskets. Small ones, for both your romantic partners and quite a few palentines, why should only your polycule be spoiled today?

They’re shipped out around noon, leaving you about fifteen or so minutes for a small break that is spent caffinating and feeding your toddlers. They’re thankfully well behaved today, and you shoot several prayers to several deities of parenthood that they stay that way. Hopefully they listen. By three p.m. you manage to get them all down for a nap and take a little time to have one yourself before the sun starts to dip low and you run off to get ready.

You shower for the third time today and throw on some clean clothes. Nothing fancy really, just some beat up overalls, long mismatched socks, and an oversized sweater underneath. You actually wear shoes today too, just some old boots better suited for snow than where you’re going. You gather several things that you’ve spent the day preparing and teleport to your castle in Wonderland. There, everything is going quite smoothly. The Royal Guard is dressed in their finest, swords sheathed at their sides. They bow to you as you approach, some stifling snickers. They’re excited, moreso than you. Though you don’t expect anything as dramatic as an attack on your castle and your guests, it’s better to be safe than sorry. Hence the presence of your guard.

With hours to spare, you put the finishing touches on your surprise. The final detail of which is a text to every member of your polycule

[txt @polycule]: meet me in wonderland @5 p.m. for a special surprise 🌹 💋 🌙 💙 🔪

[txt @ polycule]: …ignore that knife

When the members of your polycule arrive, they are to be greeted like royalty by your guard and escorted to the main hall where you will greet them properly with kisses and hugs and gooey things of that nature. After that, they are to be pampered. You have spared no expense tonight, and have hired masseuses, manicurists, and the best chef, all from Underland. Queen Diamour’s gift to you, on this most auspicious of days. There is a feast to be had, courses upon courses of the best you have to offer. Wild meats, fruits, and foraged things. Champagne made from dandelions, and hunks of raw honeycomb. Marrow bones, and stew made from sea life. Desserts that defy description, and drinks that do the same. There are flying pies, singing soups, and something like a fallen star on a plate.

Music plays in the dining room, a love song in a bottle that you bought from a strange bat. The tune is carried on a spring breeze, sung in a language long dead but somehow still understandable. A song on a warm breeze that smells of roses and wild places, honey and feral things. The love of a wild thing with fleet paws and a steadfast heart. You wrote these lyrics yourself, they tell the story of an impulsive rabbit and his wish to be happy and free. He finds his happiness in the arms of his loved ones, and solace in their eyes. Every hurt he suffers is a blow lessened by their support. You sing along with the wind, even though you aren’t much of a singer. The breeze-song is an experience for the senses, an emotion given form, it compliments the dinner better than any wine.