hi...there was this thing on Tumblr called the 'twisted-big-four' and this was born...

"Who am I?" Jack asked the boy. The blade was swinging closer and closer to the boy's chest.

"J-J-Jack….Jack….Frost." the boy was drained of the energy he held in his possession mere moments ago. When he had struggled against the 'invisible' force that guided him here. His voice was horse from when he had screamed for his sister's life. When he had watched her die, before his very eyes. His emotions were gone from where he looked at his captor with pure fear gleaming in his brown orbs.

Jack couldn't help but chuckle as the boy whimpered. "Please!" Jamie screamed. "I said it! I know who you are! You're Jack Frost! Please, let me go!" the boy began to cry, the warm tears leaving salty tracks on his face. "Please! Jack Frost! You bring the snow days, and the snowball fights, and the fun! Let me go!"

Jack's chucking grew to full on laughter. "Who's Jack Frost'. That was the question you asked your mother only a few days ago. Jamie Bennet, the child who believes in everything! From vampires to werewolves, from Bigfoot to the Krakken. You believe in everything, under the sun. Everything, except me!" Jack walked over to the table that the boy laid on. He bent over and looked the boy in the eye. Jamie's terror filled brown, meeting Jack's sadistic joyful blue. "And you expect me to let you go…."

For three hundred years, Jack tried to get someone to see him. Someone he could talk to, other than the wind. But as hard as he tried, nothing worked. No matter what amount of snow he made, or fun he caused, nothing worked. So, if killing children is what it took for someone to see him, so be it.

"Can I ask you one thing?" Jamie asked. The blade was only a few feet from his chest. He would be screaming in sheer pain and terror before long.

"What?" Jack asked, vaguely interested in what the boy had to say.

"Could you let my mom know that I love her, somehow, please?" Jamie asked him.

Jack felt a smile twitch at his lips. The blade was a few moments worth away from his beating heart. "Sure Jamie. In fact you can tell her yourself." Jack reached down and picked up a bag. Reaching inside he pulled out a head, holding it by the long brown hair that was still clinging to the scalp. "Go ahead." Jack said, holding the head. "Say your last good-bye."

Jamie's eyes widened in terror and shock. That was when the blade finally reached his chest. Jamie screamed in pain as the blade when deeper, and deeper into his chest. It reached his heart soon and he felt it sputter and go out. And then everything went black.

Jack laughed as he watched the blade carry on chopping through the boy's body. Swinging left, right, left, right. It swung blood everywhere, making Jack's white locks a gutsy pink. The blade stopped once it reached the tabled, as if it knew there was nothing else to chop. Jack surveyed the body. Jamie's eyes were open in terror, his mouth open in the middle of a scream. And that was how he will stay, frozen, the look of terror on his face, his body chopped up. Jack looked at him. "Sweet dreams." He said, knowing this boy will be in an eternal sleep.

Hiccup looked at the dagger that glinted in the moonlight shining through the window. It was the only weapon he could hold. Swords and axes were much too heavy. But he's been practicing with it. And he could throw it now. He couldn't help but feel an odd sense of joy at what he was about to do. He took out a small bottle he had in his vest. He shook it slightly, watching as the clear liquid sloshed along the edges. It was a bottle of poison. "Hiccup?" his father called from downstairs.

"Hiccup!" he called again. Said boy was pulled from his stupor when he heard his name. His father had a drinking habit, he was going to watch the show.

"Coming dad!" he called down to him. He went downstairs and into the kitchen. You know, that room full of utensils most Vikings don't know how to use. He went to the barrel and poured his dad a mug of beer. Then pulling the little bottle out of his vest again, he poured it in his mug, the clear liquid going unseen. It had no liquid, and no taste. It was his own recipe. He put the mug on a tray and carried it out to his father.

"There you are." Stoick said as he walked in. He handed his father the mug. His father 'forgot' to thank him as he downed the mug. He smacked his lips together and handed his son the mug back, expecting him to wash it. Hiccup took the mug keeping his routine up. But he knew his father would never make it out the living room. Sure enough as he was waiting for the water to get warm, he heard his father scream in pain, and the house shook as he fell. Leaving the kitchen Hiccup went in to see his father coughing up blood. His life source was all over the floor making a huge puddle.

"Well, this should be interesting." Hiccup said as he leaned against the doorway. Stoick hearing his son's words, turned his head towards him.

"Son, go get Gothie." He told him.

Hiccup laughed. "Go get Gothie? Not five minutes ago, you were telling me to go back inside, don't touch anything. Now you want me to go out." He asked his father. "Why don't you make up your mind?" Hiccup asked.

"This is no time for you games, son." Stoick said, the coughing getting worse. If you can call it coughing, it was more like hacking up a lung or two.

"Games?" Hiccup asked him. "If this is a game, then I'm winning." He said. Suddenly, Stoick stopped coughing. He just sat there sputtering. He then fell forward, hitting the ground with a thud. The house shook once more as he fell. But there was one more sound. It was like a drum, it continued. ba-dum, ba-dum. It was a heartbeat. You should be dead. Hiccup thought. Stoick wasn't moving. But the heartbeat continued. Hiccup looked behind him and saw a little girl at the doorway of his home. She was small and looked very frightened. She looked as if she was going to ask a question.

She looked as if she was going to scream. That's when Hiccup grabbed her and stabbed her with the dagger. We can't be leaving any witnesses, now can we?

(hiccup later learns it is much, much more fun to let your victims live a little before you end their lives.)

The metallic sound of swords clanging together rang throughout the empty DunBroch courtyard. Anyone could look over and see two redheaded figures sword fighting. It was Princess Merida and King Fergus, the two best in the land. Merida 's features held a look of determination and joy.

"Give it up lass! You know yer not goin' ta win!" Fergus said.

Merida saw this as her chance. She was bound by rules, expectations and responsibilities. She had rid off her mother earlier, now she just had to get rid of her father. "Is tha' a challenge?" she asked.

"Call it what you will, but I'm going ta—" Fergus was cut off as Merida thrust her sword through his stomach. She was about to pull it out but she found immense pleasure in watching her father suffer. Almost sadly, even with the sword in him, he didn't live much longer. He died there in the courtyard, and Merida felt no remorse.

She bend down next to him. "I win." She said. Now she just had to take care of her brothers.

Rapunzel lay back on her bed and held the cloth in front of her face. The deep purple square with a lovely yellow spiraling sun in the center. She hugged it to her chest. She had loved it in the kingdom. The people, the dancing, the cheerfulness in the area, the laughter in the air. The sheer beauty of it all. She took a closer look at the sun on her cloth. It was beautiful. As she gazed at it, she suddenly felt something click. The brick picture of the lost princess, the sun. It all seemed to unlock something inside her. She looked around her room. There were patterns of the same design all over her walls. She felt overwhelmed and fell against the dresser. I'm the lost princess. She thought. I'm the lost princess.

She went downstairs to find the dagger her mother kept in the drawer of her room. She found it. It was beautifully decorated. The blue opal in the center of the silver hilt. What she found interesting was the point. It was sharp, oh so very sharp. She slid her finger across it, so delicately, so light. She instantly drew blood. She found herself smiling at the plan that formed in her mind.

(Fifteen minutes)

"Rapunzel! Let down your hair!" Mother Gothel called in a sing song voice. Rapunzel hid the dagger in her sleeve and let down her hair to her aging 'mother'. It took awhile but she managed to get her up there. "Ah Rapunzel. How do you manage to do that every day, I'll never know!" Gothel said, with her usual teasing tone.

Rapunzel didn't want to hear her teasing. She wasted no time. "I'm the lost princess." She said. Her voice was clear and threatening.

"What?" Gothel surprise clear in her voice.

"I am the lost princess." Rapunzel repeated. She looked Gothel in the eye. "Aren't I, mother? Or should I even call you that?"

"Oh Rapunzel you don't know what you're talking about. All those fairy tales must be getting to your head." Gothel waved her hand dismissively.

Rapunzel pulled out her dagger. "Tell me the truth, and I might spare your life." She said.

"Oh Rapunzel." Gothel said. She went over to said girl and attempted to take the weapon away. "Lie do-" Gothel's voice faltered as Rapunzel stabbed the dagger through her stomach.

"Lies. That's all this was. The last eighteen years were full of lies." She said. "Well no more." She pulled the dagger out and watched as the blood glistened in the dimming sunlight. She glared at the dying form of Gothel, her blood pooling on the floor, staining pink her shoes.

Ummm...yeah... here's my tumblr if you liked it that much...

post/69257058808/blame-the-blog-the-twisted-big-four