#to put this in the tag or not....hmmm...ah what the hell ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[safyresky]

Hello hi, sorry to bother. But i'm in the middle fo righting my own ANGST and everything is horrible but i had a thought!

Have you ever had the idea of an AU where Jacqueline just fucking dies at the day of darkness? Just straight up bleeds out to death and dies. Jack is a full on child killer and Blinter is now back to only one kid. CATASTROPHE for sure, and the entire rest of the story never even happens. Everybody would stay frozen for an ETERNITY, Jack would have to go to jail for actual manslaughter, the works. But this idea has me thinking about what would happen anyway.

Im sorry that this thought is just incredibly morbid and sad, but i'm in my fictional world FEELS atm, and im very curious as to what this would look like/mean.

Me reading this:

My fiancé when I read this out loud: ANDIE ARE YOU OKAY?? DO YOU NEED A HUG????

He then IMMEDIATELY ASKS ME WHAT I THINK WOULD HAPPEN, and he kinda let me use him like a rubber duck (because I've thought of a lot of "what ifs" on the day of darkness, but never this what if admittedly bc. Y'know. Magical healing springs and such) so here's what I've got for you on this fine angsty night! It turned into a bit of a drabble...whoops? Anyway.

Enjoy!!!!! I hope it kills us all dead!!! 😊😊😊😊😊😊

__

Jack succeeds in something he never intended to do.

He sees the icicles go right through his little sister's body, all three of them; he sees the blood. He sees the magic on his hand, he KNOWS that it was him. He sees Blaise and Winter make it out of the house.

He panics.

He leaves her there in the snow, and he runs, disappearing into his storm.

Blaise and Winter rush to Jacqueline. They see the blood. They see the icicles. They go into crisis mode.

Maybe they bring her inside and stop the bleeding, but it's too late. Maybe she bleeds out on the spot. Maybe one of the icicles actually hits her heart or another organ that is integral to being alive and she dies before she even knows what hit her.

It'd be nice to think that, wouldn't it?

However it may come to pass, Jacqueline dies. She's gone. Blaise and Winter lay her to rest in Roseterra, hoping that it was fast and quick and that she's being taken care of by someone warm and sweet in Rosehaven. Maybe Mother Gaia; maybe the Goddess herself.

What comes next is hard.

Both Winter and Blaise are overcome with emotion; they've just lost one child by the hands of their other child.

In one fell swoop, they've lost both their children.

Winter freezes almost immediately after the funeral. She's desolate in her sadness; lost not one, but two children because Jack is, in fact, wanted. She has no words. What can she say? All she can do is cry and sob it won't change a thing. It won't bring her back. Nothing can.

Blaise struggles. He now has to apprehend his own son for murder. Murder of his own sister; Blaise's dear, dear little girl.

It hurts.

It hurts to think about how this happened, given that Jacqueline adored her older brother, and he her. He taught her everything she knew up until...that point.

He knows what he needs to do. But he can't bring himself to find Jack and do it. There's just too many emotions. That's his son for the springs sake! But he killed someone. He killed his own sister, Blaise's little snow angel, and murder is murder and it's hard to think that maybe there's some good left when the brightest little sprite is gone thanks to his son. He's all out of hope.

Blaise knows what needs to be done. He knows what he needs to do.

And like he had centuries, millennia before that, he encases his heart in stone.

It's his duty to bring Jack to justice. And he will do what he needs to do to get it done. Emotions be damned.

So both Blaise and Winter are, essentially, frozen over.

And they begin to drift.

Both are frozen; both keep their feelings to themselves. they don't talk like they used to. They focus on their jobs and nothing more.

Winter does as she was meant to do. She keeps the season going. But the winters change. They are cold, so, so, so very cold. Bitterly cold. Temperatures hit negatives that should not be hit. Twenty, forty, sixty, all below zero. They're dry. So very dry. So very dry and cold and there is no snow; just hard ground, cold, cold, cold and frozen. A tundra with no snow.

The joy of the season is gone.

Blaise throws himself into his work. His duties come first. At home, he exists alongside Winter, both numbed by grief and their hardened hearts. At work, he does his governor duties in the morning, and devotes his afternoons to the search for Jack.

The search lasts centuries.

A week after leaving, Jack checks in, as he does in a better timeline, to see if Jacqueline made it. But here, in this timeline, when he pokes around for his dear little sister's link with him, it's gone. It's dead. The spot in his mindscape that once housed the bright blue thread is cold and dead. Empty. The wind howls; beyond the connection, there is nothing.

He knows what he did. He killed her dead. And he knows the consequences, of course; but he refuses to face them. He refuses to face any of the memories, the feelings, the everything that transpired when he flung his hand and shink shink shink and the deep, deep pool of red and the darkness where once there was light.

He stays under the radar. He avoids the Council; he hides. And he is DAMN GOOD at it. Blaise expends so many resources and cannot find the man anywhere.

The years turn into decades; decades into centuries. Blaise intensifies his search for his son, throwing everything he has, all his power as Governor, his connections to other Governors and powerful castors, The Council of Legendary Figures, the operation up North--but he cannot find the man who murdered his daughter. He cannot find his son anywhere, and were he able to feel anything, he'd be furious.

But his heart is stony; all he can focus on is the hunt. Doing his duty. Bringing his little snow angel justice.

"It won't bring her back," Winter says to him one day. Her hair is so frozen it doesn't move; her face cold.

Blaise doesn't reply. Ash floats off his sooty head. His face is stony.

Winter would sigh, if she could bring herself to. But she can't. All she feels is a sadness that is building and building and growing into despair.

The front door opens and closes.

Blaise doesn't look up.

Winter doesn't look back.

---

They drift further and further; they rarely see one another. Winter finds solace in the mountains. Longer and longer stretches. The storms surrounding Bianca's Range grow stronger and stronger. The peaks are obscured constantly, now. The drifting mists from the crystal springs themselves can't even break through the whiteout.

Longer and longer stretches.

One day, she leaves for her new home.

The house, silent before, grows more silent still. Long ago, they had dreamt of filling the house to the brim with little flurries and spitfires.

But that was almost three thousand years ago.

Now it is filled to the brim with ghosts.

---

Jack gets cocky.

Of course he does; Blaise hasn't found him and it's been centuries. He ventures out. Shows up to a Council meeting or two. Plots and schemes and harasses Santa after Santa. Tries to gain the recognition that should be his.

Denial can be quite powerful when you live in it for a millennium and almost a half. You trap the thoughts of what could've been, what you could've done together; what you could've experienced with her. First partner. First major snowstorm. Freeze drying. Taking back the season together. the things you could've done, together!

Down the thoughts go, into the deep dark recesses of his memory until they no longer emerge. He goes about his business, getting closer and closer to taking out Santa, and having some near-misses of his own with the man pursuing him.

But an opportunity comes up; one that's too good to let go. You cause a little trouble here and there, have these amazing standees made of yourself with your own holiday name, and suddenly the entire Council is up in arms. So you go; this will be a fun one to get out of, and maybe Mother Nature will be so distracted by the balance swaying, that she won't think to tip off the authorities. The Authority.

Jack admires Blaise's tenacity. The man has NOT stopped pursuing him. He understands why, of course. Fully. But before he can dwell on it, he shoves the thoughts down down down, as far under the ground as she was now, and continues to do his thing.

And that's when he hears about it. Well, two things.

First off, Santa is stressed. Work is too much and the wife is expecting and he is afraid. He is TERRIFIED even. Jack can see the fear on his fellow Legend's face. He's very familiar with it. He's seen it on many a Santa before. Many a poor soul freezing to death. Falling to their death off a slippery slope. Landing in a heap with three icicles deep through their chest, the blood pouring out--

Down. Down, down, down. Lock those thoughts away. Deep breath. Keep going. Escape Clause?

Escape Clause.

Now that's interesting. Even more interesting when the other Legends don't tell him what it is. That's fine. He's clever. He'll figure it out.

And he does.

And all it takes is a little messing about here, clever words there, frosty meddling on the side, turning Curtis against Bernie, the whole nine yards.

And the family.

Jack chuckles to himself. Humans. So easy to get them upset! Rile them up enough, cause a very upsetting scene, and voila! Trouble in paradise!

A brief segue before this, of course, to follow Santa and the redheaded brat to the Hall of Snow Globes. Waiting just behind the doors and watching the secret door spin; waiting for it to spin back around to get in. Ignoring the very familiar handiwork of the icy walls inside the space and going for the prize.

Bring the man aside at his lowest low, get him to say the magic words, and voila!

Jack was Santa now.

But it didn't bring her back.

---

Not that he thought it would, of course. He'd like to think she was six feet under his long lost memories, but that was a lie.

She was always there. In the corners of his eyes, gone when he whipped around. One room over, gone when he entered it. Ghosts of giggles past and whispers of whoops when she mastered a new technique. Always there. Always in the corners, just out of reach.

So maybe, he had hoped, just a bit mind you, that somehow, doing this would change things!

But it didn't.

She was still gone, and his parents?

As gone as she was when he flipped the script on Santa.

He had it all. He had nothing. And when Scott finally appeared, Jack would've willingly gave it all away and turned himself in--if the man hadn't cut him off.

It was infuriating.

A last ditch effort to fight him for the jacket; a guilt trip that went nowhere (stealing the coat was nothing compared to stealing a life), and they were back.

As if nothing had happened.

And Jack knew that his time had run out.

Blaise had caught up to him.

---

Mother Nature had told Blaise of Jack's presence as soon as she could. Told him he would be staying at the North Pole. He had a large window of opportunity. Mother Nature felt this could be it.

And so had Blaise. His stony heart grew loud; he wouldn't blaze in this time, no. He'd do what needed to be done.

He gathered the Elite Peacekeepers, the Peace Enforcers. The strongest of spell casters. The most ruthless of the fighters. He prepped his staff, making sure he had the right spells himself.

He covered all the exit points of the Pole; pulled some strings to keep his son from escaping.

Murderer, his head corrected.

His heart was silent.

Troops assembling, he made one last trek through the city, past the springs, through the Forbidden Forest and up the Valley to Roseterra.

Her mausoleum was well kept. It always was. Flowers bloomed around it; the most beautiful snow sat on the top, hugging the warm structure. It was all sorts of light blues and yellows, her name written clearly still after all these years.

"I've got him now," Blaise said. "I'll bring you justice, snow angel. I love you."

He presses his forehead against the writing, his hand warm on the inscription. His eyes pricked, but no tears fell; they hadn't in years. He placed his flowers down, the orange lilies and red roses contrasting beside the fresh blue roses and white lilies, little red snow berries in between.

Good, he thought. Winter's okay.

And without a second thought, he kisses the tomb and turns to leave, the moment he had been waiting for for fourteen hundred years finally coming.

---

The Elfficers get him; the Council has him in their grasp. There is no escape. And before anyone can do anything, the Peace Enforcers come in, a stony man leading them, a staff glowing in his hand. His face is steely. Determined. Familiar. Older.

"That's enough," he says, his voice hard and full of a cold rage. "It's over."

"I know," Jack replies, as the Peace Enforcers spin circles of magic and capture him.

He's brought in, finally. Blaise does Santa a kindness and thaws his relatives. He doesn't say anything to the man. Leaves before he can see the family celebrate, together. He doesn't need to see that. He doesn't want to.

Outside, he taps his staff on the floor. It glows a multitude of colours, and Jack can feel so many magical traps and seals settle on him.

The fight is over. Neither sprite have any of it left in them.

And Jack is brought to justice.

He escapes, of course. Multiple times.

But Blaise catches him each time, patching the flaw.

The rehabilitation programs don't work. He keeps trying and trying to escape and a prison, a prison akin to the mortal ones, is made just for Jack.

There are a few more escapes, but they lead nowhere. He's caught each time. Until finally, he stays put. Makes himself comfortable, freezes the building solid with him inside. Brought to justice. (But it didn't bring her back).

Up in the mountains, Winter manages a sigh when she hears the news. Brought to justice. But like she had known the weeks after her darling little girl had passed, like she had told Blaise what felt like eons ago but also, like it was just yesterday, it hadn't brought her back.

And Blaise sits in the empty home, the dust and cobwebs clogging up the surfaces and corners. A sad wind blows through the desolate halls, echoing from bare room to bare room, wailing. He sits at the faded and worn chair at his desk.

He brought Jack in. He caught his daughter's killer. He brought justice.

But it didn't bring her back.

Jacqueline was still gone.

Winter was still gone.

Jack was gone.

They were all still gone, so far gone, and Blaise knew deep down, that he, too was gone.

And nothing could bring him back.

Nothing could bring any of them back.

Not even him.

---

(Comfortably hidden away in the East, The Man chuckles to himself, leaning back in his plush armchair and throwing his feet up on the ottoman below him, a roaring fire crackling in the fireplace. He chuckles to himself. He had heard the news. Blaise had lost everything.

The Man's lips quirked into a sneer of a smile. A simple curse was all it took; and a little bit of time, and boom. Blaise's life? Ruined. The Man closed his eyes, satisfied at last.

He had done it.)

[x-de-con-struct-ed-x--arch]

Meet the Mun

NAME: MAGS. :o

STAR SIGN: Scorpio.

HEIGHT: 5′11 last I checked.

WHAT’S YOUR MIDDLE NAME?: Isabelle. Not actually sure if I spelled it right.

PUT YOUR YOUTUBE/SPOTIFY PLAYLIST ON SHUFFLE. WHAT ARE THE FIRST 6 SONGS THAT POPPED UP?: 1. The Light - Disturbed. 2. Reckless - Valley Of Wolves. 3. Life In A Northern Town - Little Big Town, Sugarland, & Jake Owen. 4. Carry On - Olivia Holt. 5. Send Me On My Way - Rusted Root. 6. Mississippi Squirrel Revival - Ray Stevens.

EVER HAD A POEM OR SONG WRITTEN ABOUT YOU?: pro’ly not.

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU PLAYED AIR GUITAR?: hmmm... long time. I do air drums a lot, but not air guitar. XD

WHO IS YOUR CELEBRITY CRUSH?: ehhh don’t really have one.

WHAT’S A SOUND YOU HATE; SOUND YOU LOVE?: I hate chewing noises and breathy whispering sounds. Fire alarms, loud bangs, specifically in regards to things being slammed, high-pitched ringing, shouting and arguing, the harsh clinking of silverware against glass plates or bowls, the bangs and rumbles of the ice machine in the freezer... I like the sound of idle cars, ripping paper, thunderstorms, crackling fire, Ironhide’s voice...

DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS?: ‘m not entirely sure. Sometimes.

HOW ABOUT ALIENS?: hell yeah honestly.

DO YOU DRIVE?: not legally, no. :’)

IF SO, HAVE YOU EVER CRASHED?: nope! I’m a very good illegal driver.

WHAT WAS THE LAST BOOK YOU READ?: ah damn, I think I restarted Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett but I lost interest before the school year ended. Whoops.

DO YOU LIKE THE SMELL OF GASOLINE?: no.

WHAT WAS THE LAST MOVIE YOU SAW?: I literally just finished the first Iron Man movie. In theaters? Bumblebee, and I swear to god the scenes on Cybertron and the fighting scenes and Dropkick had me Excited.

WHAT’S THE WORST INJURY YOU’VE EVER HAD?: Jesus H. fucking Christ I’ve had so many. I got hit by a car late last year and fucked up my hip and didn’t get it checked out properly and I still have problems. I burned the hell out of my upper arm accidentally touching the grate over a fire pit while trying to put more wood on the fire. I got a concussion getting bucked off a horse and never got that checked out either. I almost broke my ankle just walking to go catch said horse out in the pasture, no particular cause, my ankle just. Gave out. I ran face-first into a wall in ballet class and somehow managed to twist my ankle almost completely backwards and dent my calcaneus, sprain my arm, and almost lose my two front teeth again. Never broken anything, as far as I know, but damn I am a disaster of a human being.

DO YOU HAVE ANY OBSESSIONS RIGHT NOW?: aside from Transformers? Not really. I have trouble focusing on more than one special interest at a time and Transformers has managed to keep me for over three years now WHOOPS.

DO YOU TEND TO HOLD GRUDGES AGAINST PEOPLE WHO DID YOU WRONG?: not really. I just try to stay away from them as much as possible. If anything it’s more about me being scared rather than still angry, but that just shows how shitty my life’s been I guess. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

IN A RELATIONSHIP?: nah. Single and either too afraid or too ‘relationships are a waste of time and aren’t worth the heartache no matter how lonely and desperate for attention and affection I might be’ to mingle. Or crushin’ on someone I probably shouldn’t be, to be honest.

tagged by stolen from: @kingoftheoffroad - I saw it on the dash and thought what the hell, there’s an hour of Munday left. :’) tagging: whoever wants in! Say I tagged you!