It is likely that I will just never finish a fanfiction, ever. So if you're reading this and you're from a Stranger things, Teen Wolf, Supernatural, or a Maze Runner fanfiction, just know I'm likely abandoning all works beside Stranger Things and Spider-man. Also, I'm obsessed with the Supernatural? I literally incorporate it into every story I write; so don't kill me. I'm a bad author, clearly, but my creative juices just flow and I need to get it out as I am going CRAZY over endgame.
My ideal look for my character is based off of Kiernan Shipka in Sabrina. Her demeanor will not be ANYTHING like her, but I just love her whole look. There's a lot of ideas I stole from other shows, such as hunters from Supernatural, a witch background from CAOS, Vampires and heretics (which is a vampire/witch) from the Vampire Diaries.
Don't sue me, anyone. Also If I hear you complaining about it... you are totally right. i'm just passionate about the avengers, mainly Peter and Tony.
My plan is to focus on the relationship between Tony and my OC, as well as Peter and my OC. I also want to flashback to my character's life a lot, as I feel it's important to completely wrap your head around her.
If you are confused as to what a heretic is, I am following TVD in that it is a half witch, half vampire.
Without further adieu... enjoy.
Welcome to your life
There's no turning back
Even while we sleep
We will find You acting on your best behavior
Turn your back on mother nature
Everybody wants to rule the world
Stuck in the body of a 16 year old, 216 year old heretic Tatum Stark has to help her great great great nephew Tony Stark prevent half the universe from disappearing. She has spent her whole previous life not giving a damn, and with the world ending, her heart started to grow fond of the dorky hero dressed as a spider.
Her cropped hair flurried around her face as the passing transit made its way past her. She cursed as a strand of strikingly blonde (nearly white) hair managed to connect with her pink lip gloss.
She tucked the strand behind her ear, shaking her head as she made her way down the quiet street in Brooklyn.
It was late, too late for her. She was a grumpy old man. Hell, she was nearing her 217th birthday after all.
Life as a heretic hand't treated her too well; with watching the death of nearly everyone you loved occurring while you never aged. She thought back to a simpler time, a time when she merely a witch, the traits of a vampire non existent.
Her parents were head of the Aries coven, which she took pride in still to this day. Her and her younger brother Theodore were the only children of the Stark's. Again, something she took pride in; but when it came to the day when the undead shoved blood down her throat and murdered her in cold blood; things changed.
She was different. She was shunned. The second she had woke up from her death she had been exiled from the Aries coven. She was claimed unnatural. Witches had been fed the blood of a vampire and killed before, but it was rare that said witch would wake up from it, earning both sets of unnatural abilities. He told her to run, to get to safety, because he knew what they'd do to her if she was found.
She was irrational; she fed on mortals. She grew angry at her family, angry at the world. She lashed out on silly mortals, those she could dispose easily and gain only power and food from. How could her own family have treated her like that? How could they shut her out, just like that? Her whole life up until just after her 16th birthday, she had desired to be exactly like them. She had yearned to be her mother, sitting next to the head of the coven with her soon to be prince charming.
She had thought back to a boy, a boy she dreamed of once marrying. His name? James Abraham. He was older than her, only by a year. The young warlock fascinated her, though. He peaked her curiosity, and with him teaching her new hexes and different spells, she was easy to fall into infatuation with him.
Who knew a few months later she'd snap his neck and feed off of his cold, dead, corpse.
She remembered the night she had woken from her death, the night things had changed. Vampire's weren't even a thought in the back of her mind until then, let alone a heretic. She had learned about them in Academy of Dark Arts, but everyone treated it as merely a myth.
Her soaked hip-length hair shielded her eyes from the moonlight. When she finally managed to gather up enough strength to flutter her eyelids open, she was met with darkness. She was lying on the embankment of the Ades River; a close ater source for her village. The rapids were strong, and she was in a dangerous area where she was told not to play near when she was mere a child.
With as much strength as she could muster, she pushed her body to a stance.
She felt drunk. She had only been drunk once before, with James; but this, this was different. Her body swayed, she felt dizzy. She was hungry... so so hungry. What had happened to the events following her waking up at the river? Her brain was so foggy. It hurt to think. She wanted to sleep, but with winter approaching, she was scare of hypothermia.
She struggled to shuffle back to her cottage. Making her way through the forest, the quickest route to her home, she stumbled over branches and trees. She coughed up water as she made her way along the overgrown trail.
How had she ended up there? How had no one found her? Did her parents know she was gone? It was sort of a ritual for their coven to complete a spell and then let those who had passed float down the river. Had someone mistaken her death?
She tripped for the umpteenth time, and this time, she laid there for a bit. The forest floor wasn't particularly comfy, but it wasn't that uncomfortable either. She could feel the water bubble in her chest, and a small tickle started before she sputtered. She coughed once, twice, and then she ger into a fit, water draining from her lungs just as they had before.
She didn't know how she had managed to make it back to her cottage, but she had. Her memory had faded in the last few minutes before she arrived to her home. Her muddy knuckles rapped against the door lightly. "Mama? Papa? It's me."
She heard the rustle inside the house; then she heard whispering.
"It's probably just an echo, Julian. Ignore it." That was her mothers voice, how had she heard that? Sure, the walls were thin, but the most she should've been able to hear was muffles. She had just learned about the spirit realm in school. Echo's were those who had not passed, who had not released they were dead. It was the psychic imprint left. A ghost of a ghost.
"Echo or not, that's Tatum. I'm sure of it."
"You know how the undead works, my love." Her mother whispered. "If it truly is an echo, you must let her spirit be free on it's own. You cannot save her."
She heard her father sob.
"It hurts, I know. We must be there for Theodore though." She could hear the strain in her mothers voice as she comforted her father.
"Mama!" She pounded harder, "Papa!".
"Papa!" She yelled louder, "Theodore!" her voice croaked as she called her brother's name and she coughed up more water.
The creaking door swung open, and she was met with the eyes of her father.
"No," Was all he said. His face let off more emotions than she could see in his eyes. She could see the way he stared at her, like she was a monster. "No, no no..." He had acted like she really WAS a ghost. "Tatum. You must go."
"What? Papa! But why?" Tears welled in her eyes.
"You must go. You must go and never come back, you hear me?" There was pain in her fathers voice.
"No-"
"Listen to me, daughter. You must listen. " He knelt down on one knee. "You must run. You must run or they will find you. They will find out. Do not stop running."
"What's happening Papa?"
As if on cue, an arrow flew past her and hit the side of her now former-home.
"Witch hunters..." he gasped. He grabbed her by her shoulders. "Listen to me, girl! You must run. Don't look back. They will hunt you until your last dying breath."
"Papa but I don't want to go..." She could feel the tears brim over, betraying her attempt at a strong demeanor for her father. "I don't want to-
"ARGH!" He clutched at the arrow that had embedded itself into his right thigh. "GO, MY GIRL! GO AND DON'T LOOK BACK."
Tears streamed down her face as she ran from her father.
"I love you" She had heard him whisper moments later.
She shook the thought from her mind.
That was a long time ago, things had changed since then. Her hair was no longer golden and down to her knees, she didn't wear ballgowns and she most certainly did not have her father there to protect her anymore.
She kept tabs on them long after she had disappeared. Her family had died suffering, though. The tuberculosis outbreak was more than anyone could comprehend. Her mother was the first to go, and then her brother. Her brother's wife was next, and then her father. sShe would never forget seeing him in that hospital bed, his hair tainted with grey and his cheeks gauntly caved in. She wasn't sure if he would recognize her still; after tens of years.
When he had caught sight of her, though, it was as if nothing had changed.
"Tatum," he coughed, his voice hoarse and breaking. "My baby girl... my baby." She had leaped to his side, squeezing his fragile body into a tight embrace. She could feel his weakness, something that she had never seen her father wear. "I knew you would come."
"Father...?" His eyes blinked rapidly. "Father I'm sorry... I can fix this father. I can help heal you."
"No, my love. I wish not to be changed, I wish to return to the dark lord; return to Theodore and your mother." He swallowed, and then coughed loudly, his body seizing as he did so.
"Did you run, daughter?"
"Yes," She nodded, "I ran. I did some bad things father... Things I cannot ever forgive myself for doing.".
"It's okay, my love. It's okay. The Dark Lord forgives all reckless acts. The Dark Lord would not judge you for what you have done to our coven."
Her time as a witch seemed short lived, and her time as a vampire left her thinking less of Satan and his covens around the globe.
"I was waiting for you, Tatum..." he coughed again, and she heard him go still "I was waiting.." She waited for his last dying breath, and she sobbed when she heard the final beat of his aching heart.
That was the last of her immediate family, and that was more then a hundred years ago.
Things were different now, she was no longer the weak heretic tied to her family, no, she was the heretic of hell that every witch and vampire hunter were lurking after. It felt good to be so sought after, it gave her confidence. She had grown cocky over the years, she couldn't even remember the last time she had shed a tear. She wasn't blood thirsty anymore; she was careful. She saw no reason to kill unless threatened, and to live co-dependently besides mortals made living a little bit easier.
She didn't mind the hunters, gave her some practice in fights, and she really didn't care all that for their lives. She wasn't big on feeding in public anymore, which meant frequent trips to the hospital to steal blood bags. She wasn't big on the killing, either. It made people suspicious of her, and she hated to admit it but there were some good hunters out there, and she wasn't too keen on meeting them. Specifically, the Winchesters and their damn bloodline. She had been hunted from the moment she had left her cottage in Massachusetts 200 years ago. She also disliked the thought of moving again. She had found a part time job at an office that kept her busy, enjoyed hobbies like jogging and drinking at the bar with her fake ID.
She tapped her key fob against the screen leading to her apartment building, and the glass doors slid open with ease. She made her way through the quiet lobby and took the elevator to the top floor. She yawned as she puttered down the dimly lit hallway to the very last room.
She placed her key inside the look, jiggling the stiff latch and turning it. Just as her usual routine went, she kicked off her shoes and placed her bag on the small tabletop by the entry way. She had yawned, tired from her nightly jog.
She peered down the hall to the large window that gave her a view of most of New York. She was happy with her little bachelor pad, she wasn't too big on privacy and didn't mind the window panel that took up the whole North wall. The place was expensive, sure, but she had saved up enough money on her 216 years on earth to be able to afford most things. Not that she was loaded, but she wasn't struggling financially either.
"Tatum Stark." She looked up from where her eyes were glued out the window, and saw Tony Stark come into view. "I see you're not in the Geriatrics unit in the group home yet. That's good. Any sign of Alzheimer's yet?"
She rolled her eyes, "You're blocking my view, Tony."
He shook his head, "I am the view."
She groaned.
He stepped towards her, shoving his hands into his dress pants. "That's no way to great your nephew, is it?"
Tony was her only living blood at this point, being her brother, Theo, son's son's son, or something like that. She wasn't totally sure. "That's no way to treat your great great Aunt," she retaliated.
"Great great great Aunt, actually."
"Yeah whatever," She sighed, trotting over to her fridge. She grabbed a bag of O negative, stabbing a straw in it like it was a Capri sun, and started slurping.
"That's disgusting," He grimaced.
"So is your face, but I haven't complained about it till now, have I?"
"God you're insufferable. 200 years on earth made you a real bitch."
"So I've been told," She retorted, jumping onto the sofa and kicking her feet up. "So to what do I owe the pleasure?"
He sighed. "Well, I've been thinking-"
"No."
"You don't even know what I'm gonna say." He argued, his hands throwing up in the air.
"I do, and the answer is no." She glared. "I'm not about saving people like your precious avengers, Tony. I'm not exactly a saint."
"I'm not asking you to be a saint."
"But you're asking me to save people," She argued, taking a long sip. "Tony, I don't care. You always do this. You visit me every couple of months, rant to me about your precious team or Pepper or the world falling apart, and then you beg me to come stay with you, and then you disappear again. Everything always works fine without me, so there's no point in joining you."
"I'm asking you for an important reason, Tatum" He took a step towards her, his voice raising as he spoke to her like the 16 year old child she truly was. "I'm not asking you to be an avenger, or a super hero, or a super villain even. I'm asking you for help." his voice lowered, apologetic almost. "I'm asking you because I truly need you, this time. The world does."
She sighed. She was bored, but she didn't feel great about the idea of saving humans when she had wiped out plenty of their species before. She almost felt guilt, and it wasn't something she felt often. She had grown to appreciate mortals; even envy them.
"It's Thanos." He muttered, his tone changing. "I've been thinking about him none stop ever since the attack in New York. I have nightmares about him, my mind is always on his next move, and now it's all become a reality."
"Go on,"
He perked up at her response, never truly having grabbed her attention before. "He's looking for the infinity stones, every last one of them. He's got the Power stone from Xander, he murdered the Loki. He wants to wipe out half of the galaxy's population, Tatum. If he gets all six infinity stones, and he will find a way, things are going to change a hell of a lot."
She sighed, pursing her lips as she glanced away from him.
"What if that's you, huh? What if you end up disappearing?"
"Well, then that's how I go, I suppose," She sighed, finishing the rest of the bag and tossing it behind her directly into the trash bin, her head not even moving to check it's place.
Tony's eyes followed the bag as it sailed across the room, but he was unphased at the action. "I don't think you realize the severity of this."
"Don't talk to me like I'm a kid, Tony." She growled, kicking her feet off the couch and resting her elbows on her knees. "I've definitely lived my time on this earth. I've watched people outlive me over and over and over," She droned on, "I've tried every drug and tasted every sip of alcohol under the sun, I've died more times then I can count, and come back to life the same amount of times. I've spent most of my life alone, and if that's how I go out; so be it."
He stabbed a finger, "You're being selfish. You were human once, or don't you remember?"
"Tony," She sighed, "Everyone I have ever loved has died."
"But everyone I love hasn't," he hissed, "-and I'm not about to let that happen."
She hummed over his response for a long moment. Tony Stark did not have a heart. He did not show empathy, he did not show love. He was cold, he was calculating. He was the way he was because of his father; and she knew that. She spent a long time working for his father long before Tony's birth, and she knew how cold-hearted he was. Like father-like son. Tony was not one to beg, and she actually could see the severity of the situation just from the conversation.
"And what if the world doesn't end, and someone recognizes me with the avengers, huh? Witch hunters will be on my ass like that" She snapped her fingers aggressively.
"We could find you a disguise."
"I'm not wearing spandex."
"You don't have to." There was a long pause. "I know how strong you are, how powerful you can be. The fact that you can even perform spells and you have super human abilities just proves how different you are from the rest of your kind."
She bit her lip.
"If you even care about me, even a little bit," He pressed his thumb and his pointer finger together till they were nearly touching, leaving a small gap between them. "-you would help me out. You can do everything under your circumstances, but please. We need your help."
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she puzzled over his query. She wasn't going to deny the small tiny particle in her body that cared for him, and he was possibly the only thing that kept her in the United States; knowing he would visit her every few months. She hated his rants, but she also loved to listen. She hated how he treated her like a child, but she did look like one. She hated the way he pestered her to join him at the compound every time they talked, because she knew eventually she would give in.
"Fine."
