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ditaliaa · 7 months

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I figured I’d post the first chapter of It Ends at the Beginning on here for my friends who don’t have/use AO3!!

This is my take on what would happen if Jack had touched the Bloodstone earlier on in the film. I’m excited to share it with you all and if this inspires anyone else to write their own variation, please tag me!! I’d love to see what you create! I hope you all enjoy!

It Ends at the Beginning

Chapter One

The known universe, with it’s heroes and marvels, but what of the darkness? In our modern world, this is where monsters dwell, alongside those who hunt and slaughter them with pride. None more prolific than the Bloodstone family, whose patriarch has long controlled the powerful supernatural relic, the Bloodstone, a weapon unlike any other. But now, this weapon is in want of a new master, for Ulysses Bloodstone has died. Tonight is his funeral. Hunters have gathered from around the globe, strangers until this night, for a ceremonial hunt which will decide who next will wield the Bloodstone.

And woe to the monster who finds itself among them.

***

The first thing to capture his senses was the stench of death.

Heavy and thick, it hung in the air like a fog. Nothing he was unused to, but it still unnerved him nonetheless. The manor he stood in front of was drenched in it, and that small fact was perhaps why Jack felt a small current of anxiety niggling at the base of his skull despite the absurdity of the location.

He wanted to laugh, even felt a small smile tug against the corners of his lips as he was reverently handed a medal and instructed to follow the hall down to the stone door. But it was the air that kept his face painfully straight. The heady scent of decay - of wrongness - growing stronger with each leisurely step.

It called to him, to some part of his being that howled and hurled itself against the bars of its cage.

Jack focused his attention ahead, eyes trained forward and vigilant of every movement. The medal hung from his fingertips, swinging with every step he took to gently thump against his leg. Deftly, he fastened the ribbon around his shoulders, a poor attempt at distracting himself from the grating noise of the stone door as it opened.

As the hall was revealed, music faded in, an old song crackling through as he eyed the walls adorned with paintings of massacres. Nerves twitched at his fingers as he stepped inside, eyes dragging across the walls as he took in the gruesome decor. Jack’s gaze lingered on a particular scene, it’s intent made apparent by the blood spurting from the wolf’s chest. What had Ted gotten himself into?

He came to a stop at the end of the hall, the archway opening into a grand parlor. Gaudy and stiff, Jack could not keep back the small smirk that threatened to break across his face at the sight of it. His skin prickled at the feel of sharp eyes on him, yet he strolled, taking in the space with a lazy curiosity. His ears sharpened, attuned to every creak and shuffle as a man cleared his throat.

“Elsa’s here.” A tremulous voice spoke.

Jack’s gaze was caught by the scoff and whisper of cloth as a woman adorned in black swept from the room. He paused in his perusal to watch her leave, intrigued by the presence that left the old woman’s heart racing.

As his steps curved around, his attention was drawn to a table, the small stand holding a singular case.

Jack’s blood sang at the sight of it, his hand rising to touch the jewel held with. The thing within him held still, jaws no longer snapping as it too waited with bated breath. As his finger came into contact with the cold glass, the stone shook, scarlet light splashing across his fingertips as a blinding agony shot through his hand to chase up his arm. He pulled back, cradling the limb to his side with a hiss as he stared at the case, confusion and pain lacing his thoughts.

Unconsciously, his hackles raised, registering the sudden quiet of the room, breaths stilted and deep. Jack’s eyes flickered, taking in the sharp gazes of the people around him and the weapons now pointed steadily towards his body.

Hysteria bubbled in his chest at the ridiculousness of the situation, the reality of it refusing to sink in.

“It packs a punch, doesn’t it?” He laughed, shaking his arm out, a nervousness lacing his tone as he attempted to diffuse the situation. Jack’s gaze slid to the man closest to him, eyes colliding with a dark stare.

The man’s short words were a weighted stone in his chest.

“Aye, the Bloodstone does,” his accent was thick as he spoke, “for a monster.”

Jack’s heart stuttered, smile frozen as his lips twitched in shock.

The man’s gaze flickered to one of the guards and he had only a moment to register the buzzing sound before pain tore through him. With a cry, he was sent to his knees, the ache of the contact jolting up his leg as lightning crackled through him.

Jack’s breath caught in his throat, his heart beating faster as he stared down at the stone tile in front of him.

Heavy steps pierced his panic, black boots now stilling in his line of sight.

“What have we here?” The woman spoke, eyes unblinking and cold as he met her stare.

“An interloper.” The Scott gruffed. The word held all the animosity he could muster towards him.

“More than one it seems.” The woman swathed in black hummed quietly. Her tone was unimpressed, eyes sliding across the room as she stepped away.

Jack’s gaze followed the old woman’s to collide with a new figure. She stood still, her prone stance almost uncomfortable as she clenched her jaw, avoiding his stare. The bright crimson of her coat seemed to taunt him, a faint reminder of the pain still coursing through his fingertips. Jack’s hand shook.

His attention was quickly ripped away by the sound of the metal creaking and he watched as the old crone handled the jewel carefully, gloved hands cradling the precious thing.

“A monster.” She chuckled, the sound mirthless. “Masquerading as one of our own.”

Jack watched as she paused in her study of the gem, hands clenching around the stone to send a heated glare his way. “Desecrating a sacred night!” She screeched.

She turned her hands toward him, the Bloodstone flashing angrily at his presence, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips as he shied away from the jewel. A small sense of relief washed over him when nothing happened, his muscles loosening in their stiffness for a moment.

“I wonder, what creature you are?” She queried, eyes boring into his as he stared back. “To boast of over a hundred deaths.”

The words sliced through him, sharper than any blade, yet he sat still, face impassive. The medal tied to him seemed to grow heavier. It now hung like an albatross around his neck, weighted and choking with the memory of his ancestors. His eyes fell to the heads mounted on the walls, what he once thought of as tacky decoration now held only horror. The corpses hung and stuffed on display for the pride of its owner. Glassy eyes stared back at Jack, their lingering terror reflecting in his own gaze.

The creature inside him howled, pressing at the bars of its enclosure with a ferocity he rarely felt outside the moon’s light. It echoed the same title he had been running from his whole life.

Monster.

***

The guards moved, sliding easily away from her as she walked passed into the halls of her childhood home. The place had not changed in the years she’d been away, it’s familiarity threatened to steal her breath away, throwing her back in time.

It was the sharp click of heels that focused her, grounded her as she pulled herself from the dizzying nostalgia that wrapped and choked her thoughts. She continued, finally coming face to face with a phantom of her youth.

“Elsa,” Verussa spoke, shock lacing her tone. “After 20 years, I hope you didn’t feel obligated to come.” The words came from a barbed tongue, lashing and hoping to strike. “God knows the other’s won’t like it. How long can we expect you to stay?”

Elsa fought the urge to roll her eyes, as if this was a house call or a well meaning condolence.

“Give me what’s mine, I’ll leave now.” Her lips curved slightly, a half-hearted attempt at a smile.

Verussa’s gaze shifted, yet any words she might have said were quickly cut off by an agonized shout, the guards quick to move toward the disturbance. Elsa’s gaze flickered over her step-mother’s shoulder before finding her eyes again, a challenge raised in the curve of her brow. Verussa stood a moment longer, lips curling in anger as she turned away, following the noise.

Elsa followed behind, curiosity and trepidation full in her countenance and measured with every step. She watched curiously as her step-mother approached a man, his form hunched in obvious pain, the group of hunters and guards alike all sharp and ready.

“What have we here?”

“An interloper.” Came the sharp reply and Elsa caught the slight twitch of her step-mother’s lips as she spoke.

“More than one it seems.” She leveled a glare at the woman, the muscles in her jaw clenching tightly at the words. Elsa’s gaze flickered to the side, meeting the man’s face.

He looked small, eyes glittering feverishly as they darted about the room. His doleful gaze landed on her, piercing and strange. His brows knit together, confusion and terror etched into the crease of his forehead and Elsa was painfully reminded of an animal, caught and fearful. It sparked a small pinch of her heart, and her eyes flickered away, unable to look any longer.

“I wonder what creature you are?” Verussa spoke, the anger in her next words pulling Elsa from her reverie. “To boast of over a hundred deaths.”

The air in the room grew still, suffocating and heavy as her words sunk in. Elsa’s gaze drug across the creature again, his form seeming to deflate at her words.

“Now’s your chance to prove yourself, darling.” Verussa sung, rounding the table, eyes sliding to meet her.

“I’m curious how your training has held.” She smiled, a saccharine thing that twisted across her face. As she set the Bloodstone back. “How would you deal with such a beast?”

Kill him.

It was the only option, especially in a room full of hunters who’d take any chance to add another death to their tally. The only option she had been taught to know. Elsa wavered, the smallest hesitance in her gaze as she met his eyes once more. She smoothed her expression, face holding a dispassionate glare, yet her heartbeat quickened, the muscle squeezing painfully in her chest.

“Your father wouldn’t have hesitated.” Verussa, snarled.

“My father wouldn’t have allowed a monster inside his house.” Elsa sneered, pointing out her step-mother’s incompetence. “Not alive anyway.”

“But he did.” Verussa turned, eyes cold and clever, piercing and searching as she stood. “Once.”

Elsa’s breath hitched, avoiding the creature’s glittering eyes as her gaze locked on her step-mother.

“Shall we try it again?” Verussa’s words were high and sweet, her next words pitching low in a growl. “See what type of Bloodstone you really are.”

Elsa’s tongue was caught in her mouth, the muscle heavy and thick with anxiety. A sharp cry punctured the air, her gaze quickly flying to the man across from her as he lunged forward.

“Look out!” He cried, the words fizzling into a pained yelp as he was struck by a baton. Falling forward, she watched as he writhed against the ground before finally remaining still. Her brows furrowed, hands stretched out in confusion as she watched the man and the torture he was subjected to.

The answer came with a buzz of its own and it was only a moment before Elsa felt the same shock run through her spine, sending her world into darkness.

#werewolf by night #jack russell #wwbn #wbn #gael garcía bernal #elsa bloodstone #dita’s fics #my writing

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ditaliaa · 7 months

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Before you meet your heroes

Well, here it is. @bluemoonperegrine and @ditaliaa kindly asked me to write out the prompt about Jack making a storybook about Ted and I did it. Enjoy!

“Come on, sweetheart. Time for bed.”

The child looked up at Jack and smiled. It ran and the werewolf chased after it until it reached the bed and jumped onto it.

“Saved!” it cried out.

Jack laughed.

“Ah, you outran me again. But I’ll get you next time.”

“I’ll outrun you again.”

“Maybe, maybe. We’ll see.”

The little child hugged its teddy bear as Jack tucked it into bed.

“Papa?”

“Yes?”

“Will you tell me a bedtime story?”

“Of course, mi vida. In fact, I think I found one you’ll like very much.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Wait here and I’ll go get it.”

“Okay!”

Jack went to his room. A neat pile of paper sewn together at one end lay on his desk and he grabbed it. He took a moment to smile at it – he had made it himself for over three weeks, taking care to make it simple yet still visually engaging. It was the first time he ever attempted a storybook and part of him wished it wouldn’t be his only one. He went back to the child’s room.

“What is that?” it asked.

“It’s the book I told you about.” Jack sat next to his kid and showed it the cover. It was a semi-detailed pencil drawing of what looked like a pile of moss and vines with two big round red eyes framed by three thick vines.

“Ted the Swamp Monster?”

“That’s right.”

The child gasped and gave its father the biggest possible smile. “We live next to a swamp!”

“Do you want to learn about Ted?”

“Yeah, yeah!”

Jack opened the little book and the first page showed Ted’s full body. The words next to it read: “This is Ted. He lives in the swamps of the Everglades in Florida.”

“That’s the swamp near here, right papa?”

“Yes, it is.”

“So Ted lives close to us?”

Jack nodded and the child smiled even wider.

“What does he do?”

“Let’s find out,” Jack said and turned to the next page.

It was a double-page spread showing Ted in a garden with squash, tomatoes and a few other vegetables that could grow in swamplands. The text above read: “Ted loves taking care of plants. He even has his own garden where he grows vegetables.”

“I didn’t know tomatoes can grow in swamps,” the child said.

“Well, they can. I’ve seen it myself.”

“But isn’t Ted made out of plants, too?”

“He is. That’s why he takes care of all the plants in the swamp – he can talk to them, he understands what they need.”

The kid’s eyes could now rival tea saucers with how wide they were.

“Plants can talk?”

“Yup. And they can understand us when we talk to them.”

“So if we say nice things to them, they’ll grow bigger?”

“They might.”

Jack’s kid laughed and it melted his heart.

“I’m gonna say nice things to the roses and they’re gonna be big and pretty!”

“Yes, they will.” The werewolf bent down and kissed the top of the child’s head.

“What else can Ted do? Can he talk to animals?” it asked, bouncing in its seat.

Jack turned the page. The next drawing, another two-page spread, showed Ted bandaging up a deer’s wounded leg. Squirrels and various birds surrounded him and an alligator was lounging in the water near them. The text read: “Ted also helps the animals in the swamps. Sometimes they get injured by hunters or need help finding food.”

“But can he talk to the animals?”

“I don’t think he can. But he helps them so they’re not afraid of him.”

The child hummed and Jack turned the next page. Ted was shown spotting two people from behind a bush. Above was the sentence: “Sometimes Ted sees people in the swamp but he hides from them.”

“Why does Ted hide from people? Is he scared of them?”

“He is,” Jack said softly. “People can be scary sometimes.”

“But why?”

Despite the question, the child hugged its teddy tighter and snuggled closer to its father. The werewolf rested his free hand on its shoulder.

“I think the next page will tell us.”

When he turned to it, there was a drawing of Ted surrounded by people with different expressions on their faces. The text read: “Ted can feel other people’s emotions.” The page next to it showed only Ted, visibly unhappy, and another person who looked scared. Above them the sentence: “Ted doesn’t like fear.”

“Papa?”

“Yes, cariño?”

“Is Ted scared of people because they’re scared of him?”

“That’s a good way to put it, yes.”

“But he helps animals, right? And plants! Does he help people?”

“I think he may have tried.”

“So why are people scared of him?”

Jack smiled sadly and caressed the child’s head.

“People are scared of what they don’t understand,” he said softly. “They don’t know what Ted is so they don’t know he’s trying to help them.”

“But… don’t they have this book?”

“I don’t think many people do. I didn’t even know I had it until recently.”

“So if more people have the book, they won’t be scared of Ted! And he won’t be scared of them, right?”

“It’s possible, yes.”

“What’s wrong, papa?”

“Don’t you want to know why Ted doesn’t like fear?”

The child nodded and Jack turned the page. It showed Ted clutching his head, his eyes shut. The sentence above him was: “Fear hurts Ted.” The page after that showed Ted holding a person – they were on fire and Ted looked angry. Above them the text read: “Sometimes it hurts so much he tries to stop it.”

“But… he only does it when you’re scared of him, right?”

“Yes, mi vida. Only if you’re scared of him.”

Jack turned the page. Pictured was Ted still looking at the burning corpse but now he looked sad. The text above him was: “He hates when that happens. He doesn’t like hurting people.” The next page showed Ted hiding in the bushes so the people walking in the swamp can’t see him. The text above the drawing said: “So he hides from people. If they don’t see him, they won’t be afraid. And that way he won’t hurt them.” This was the last page of the storybook.

“Papa?”

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“Does Ted have any friends?”

“Not many, I’m afraid. Why do you ask?”

“If he hides from people so he can’t hurt them… how does he make friends? Isn’t he lonely?”

“Maybe a little. But he has some friends.”

“Other swamp monsters?”

“I don’t know if there are others.”

“Then who?”

Jack smiled.

“Aren’t you curious how I know so much about Ted?”

“Huh?” By the time the child spoke up, something clicked and it gasped. “You know Ted?”

“I know Ted.”

The child laughed and bounced in place.

“Can I meet Ted? Pretty please can I meet Ted, papa?”

Jack chuckled, relieved that his little pup wanted to meet his best friend.

“Of course you can. But you have to behave yourself. Promise?”

“Promise! Can we show him the book? Do you think he’ll like it?”

“We could, we could. But it’s getting late now. You need to go to sleep.”

“Okay, papa.”

Jack got up and tucked the kid in.

“Papa, does Ted have moss growing on him?”

“Yes, he does. Why?”

“Can we go pick out some moss and put it in the book?”

The werewolf couldn’t help but smile.

“Of course we can. Tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight, precious.”

“Goodnight, papa.”

Jack kissed the child’s forehead and turned the lights off on his way out of the room. The smile wouldn’t leave his face.

#ahhhhhhh #this was such a lovely thing to come back to #I love how sweet and soft you write Jack #you captured his kindness and curiosity so well and I love how that’s reflected in the child too #lovely work friend #werewolf by night #jack russell

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