An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Hi I just posted something on ao3 for day 17 of Heaptober.
@heaptober-2020
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Hi I just posted something on ao3 for day 17 of Heaptober.
@heaptober-2020
Inspired by above image.
Modern AU
Marcellus sat quietly in his office at The Castle Academy of Magyk and Alchemy. It was a prestigious school that was widely known as the best place to go for learning in any field of Magyk, Physik, Alchemy, or any mixture of the three. Marcellus, as head of the Alchemy Department and the Physik Department, had a spacious and well organized office within the primary Alchemy building, though he spent little time there, more often in his personal laboratory.
But today had been less busy compared to others, thus he found some spare time on his hands with no obligations. Typically in this situation, Marcellus would seek out a young boy named Septimus Heap. Marcellus was fascinated by Septimus’s astuteness in Alchemy, Physik, and his incredible talent in Magyk. However, Septimus was not available that day due to final examinations, which were also why Marcellus had exceptional amounts of free time.
So, instead of seeking the company of the brilliant young Septimus, he found himself returning to something he hadn't done in countless years. Acquiring an old easel, paint, and brushes, Marcellus prepared to paint his soulmate. He had never met the woman, but he knew every detail of her face. Despite his likelyhood of having already outlived her, she still remained in his mind. He frowned at the thought of her possibly dying before they had met. But such was the fate of immortality.
Immortality did, however, has many benefits that made it worth a few losses. One being an eternity to perfect his various experiments and make breakthroughs that no one thought possible. Though, on occasion, thoughts of a soulmate he never got the chance to meet would flashed through his mind, making a small part of him wonder what life would have been like with her by his side.
Marcellus sketched lightly on the easel, forming the base of a woman’s portrait. Once he was finished expertly outlining it, he opened his paints. Each paint was a singular, specific color. After centuries of careful work, each one matched her skin, her eyes, her hair, and her dress perfectly. He stirred them carefully while staring at the easel. How many more details could be adding before it would be indistinguishable from a real person and not a painting? He truly hadn't painting in many decades, but his last painting was so lifelike that Marcellus felt that ahe was right in front of his.
He began to carefully paint the figure that forever occupied his thoughts, his brush moving expertly between paint and easel. Hours passed as he sat, bringing her to life before his golden eyes.
Before he even realized it, the portrait was nearly complete. He finished the last few strokes of purple in her dress then sat back and admired his work. She looked more real then he could have ever imagined. Every curl of her dark brown hair was visible, yet not overdone. Her dazzling green eyes seemed to blink when Marcellus turned his head and had a strong, stubborn look to them. Every small detail of her bronze skin could be made out. The dress she wore was flawless, as if she carefully kept it in top condition.
Marcellus stared in awe at his painting, a tear escaping his eye from the sheer beauty. Longing filled him like he'd never known. It was clear that whoever was his soulmate was an incredible person. He could see her personality in her eyes and the pride in her shoulders. How could he have ever missed such a woman? All for what? Science that he could have still worked on even with a wife?
A knock on his door snapped him out of his regretful thought.
“Come in,” Marcellus called, standing to greet whomever knocked. The paint was still wet, so Marcellus didn't dare cover it.
As soon as the person that knocked entered, Marcellus found himself paralyzed in shock. Surely it wasn't possible? Yet every detail was the same.
There stood a tall woman with strong shoulders standing in a way that radiated pride and confidence. She had flawless bronze skin and dark brown curls that fell around her shoulders. The most stunning thing was her eyes. A brilliant green of a Magykal person, but her eyes also held a stubbornness mixed with boldness.
She was breathtakingly beautiful, and Marcellus found himself awestruck. She seemed in shock as well, staring at him.
The woman seemed to snap out of it first and asked, “Are you Professor Marcellus Pye?”
“Yes, I am. And who, may I ask, are you?” Marcellus replied. She straighten and easily exceeded Marcellus’ height.
“I am Marcia Overstrand, the new head of the Magyk department. I'm replacing Alter Mella since he retired and thought I should pay the other department heads a visit,” she said with an air of importance. Marcellus smiled pleasantly.
“It's very nice to meet you, Madam Overstrand.” he said politely. It was then that Marcia noticed the painting. She glanced back and forth between Marcellus and the painting, her mouth falling agape.
He smiled calmly and walked to her, “Would you like to have some coffee? I feel that we have a lot to talk about.”
Marcia likes it oh so very much when Marcellus leans over and kisses her cheek when she is working. She is forever left blushing and stammering when he does. (X)
happy birthday to @overstrand-marcia-i and thank you so much for all of the great headcanons, fics, and playlists you’ve made. they really brighten my life and i hope you have a great birthday!!
I love your art a lot!!! Do you think you could draw Marcellia or Marcilo? If not that's okay too. Your art is very inspiring.
Here’s a Marcellia sketch for u anon
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapter three is Spectacles!
Marcia (to Marcellus): I wanna run my fingers through your stupid fucking haircut
Marcellus: What was that Marcia?
Marcia: I said you have a – a haircut! Yeah that’s right!
But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain And it’s 2 A.M. and I’m cursing your name You’re so in love that you act insane And that’s the way I loved you
in a real marcellia mood lately
"What?" "You're just beautiful is all." Long time no Marcellia