#late to the ides of march

[donttouchmycubitalfossa]

Hey, yeah, so we elected your boyfriend to the senate. No, turns out there was a vacancy after, like, some dude, was stabbed or something. Yeah, he’s going to be very busy and have little time for you now. Sorry. Hopefully he does a good job or something so he doesn’t get et tu brute’d

[mjulmjul]

XXII. THE IDES

[thegoreydimise]

Saw an ides of march post that was like “about 2 go stab a senator 2day” and my brain immediately went

Ah yes

2enator 2tabing 2eer by Will Wood

[jberk-ish]

[portia-wife-of-brutus]

brutus is such a good husband. he's been helping out with the chores and sharpening the knives

[thegothicera]

The Murder of Julius Caesar from Boccaccio's De mulieribus claris, German, ca. 1474

[reactorshaft]

[cup-noodle]

All of Tumblr on March 15th:

[sesamenom]

et tu, tyelpe?

[the-real-list-of-ominous-threats]

I will take away your knives so you cannot participate in what is Happening Tomorrow

[bergoozter]

[bewaretheidiotsofmarch]

O' noble Brutus..

Thy fate wast writ in the stars

[cedarboots]

Seen on campus March 15th

I took one

[wishmemellon]

"Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?"

The Ides of March is upon us and Julius Caesar is still dead! I wanted to draw Cassius and Brutus to celebrate Tumblr's favorite holiday.

[2nd2ndalto]

here is a smol ides of march au

Leo taps Nico’s leg with the flat of his gladius. “Look sharp, di Angelo, the big boss is coming through,” he mutters. 

Nico shifts from where he’d been slumped against the wall of the Forum, pulling himself to his full (yes, really) height and tipping up his chin. It’s his least favorite time of day to be on guard; the midday sun is beating down on the stone walls and the gravel at his feet, and the damn helmet isn’t helping matters. He couldn’t find his own this morning, so he’s wearing Reyna’s, and it keeps sliding down his sweaty forehead.

Nico half-listens to the conversation as Caesar and his companions draw nearer.

“Forget not, in your speed, Antonius, to touch Calpurnia; for our elders say the barren, touched in this holy chase, shake off this sterile curse,” Caesar says, characteristically self-important. 

Leo quirks an eyebrow at Nico, and Nico tries not to laugh. 

Then, “Caesar!” someone calls. The voice is creaky, ethereal. Nico shivers. 

The general stops short, his entire entourage grinding to a halt around him. One of them knocks into Leo, then grabs Nico’s shoulder to steady himself. Nico grits his teeth. 

“Who is it in the press that calls on me?” Caesar asks, imperious. “I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music cry, ‘Caesar!’ Speak; Caesar is turned to hear.”

Nico lets out a long breath. Why use two words when two dozen will suffice? The longer this exchange takes, the longer he has to stand here, pin-straight in this stupid fucking sweaty tunic. 

“Beware the Ides of March,” croons that same spooky-sounding voice, and a tall figure draws forward. It must be a man, Nico supposes, if only from the height. The figure is robed in sky blue, head covered, his back to Leo and Nico. 

Nico’s mind wanders to the gnawing hunger in his stomach, the blisters on his sandaled feet. The heat on his armor is starting to make him feel as if he’s being slowly baked. A Nico panini, perhaps. 

“He is a dreamer!” Caesar announces suddenly, jolting Nico from his discomfort. “Let us leave him.”

Nico lets out a breath as the group in front of him begins to move once more. 

The man in blue - the soothsayer, Nico supposes, lingers. Once Caesar and the others are out of sight, he turns with a shrug. 

“They never listen.”

And his voice isn’t spooky, or ethereal. It’s light, easy. Nico blinks, surprised, taking in sparkling blue eyes, crinkled at the corners, a rueful half-smile. A spill of freckles, several blond curls peeking out around the edges of his hood. The young man appears to be right around Nico’s age. 

And he’s hot.   

Next to Nico, Leo seems to be undergoing a similar journey of revelation. He steps forward, holding out a hand and offering a toothy grin. 

“Leo Valdez. It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Soothsayer, sir.” 

Nico rolls his eyes. 

The man in blue quirks a smile and takes the proffered hand. “Will Solace.” He steps back. 

“Fucking hot out here, isn’t it?” Will Solace says. He shoves down his hood, revealing a head of tousled blond curls, shining like gold in the sunlight, the blue in his robes reflected in his eyes. Nico feels a bit like he’s been punched in the face. In a really good way. 

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” Will says, fixing his grin on Nico. 

“Nico. di Angelo,” Nico manages, extending a sweaty hand. Blue eyes catch on his and linger, curious.

“You sounded… different. Before,” Nico says.

Will’s grin goes wider, a bit sly. “I’ve been trying something new.”

“So it’s all an act, then?” Nico asks, curious, because… 

“Oh no,” Will shrugs. “He really does need to beware the Ides of March. I just find folks are more receptive to prophecy if I get a bit spooky with it. You know. Really lean into the drama of it all.” Will wiggles his fingers. 

Nico nods. “Caesar does have an… aura of death. A thick possibility of it.”

“Nico,” Leo complains. But Will quirks an eyebrow, regarding Nico with more interest, a quick once-over and a half-step closer. 

“You know, I might have a prophecy for you,” he tells Nico. 

“Yeah?”

Will touches two fingers to his temple, closes his eyes, a flutter of dark blond eyelashes against freckled cheeks. “Yes. I see you, having dinner with me. Tonight.” Will’s voice has gone spooky again, but it’s edged with something warmer now.  

“Good grief,” Leo mutters. 

Nico nods. “Interesting. Do you see yourself picking me up at eight, maybe?”

“You know, I do,” Will grins “You’re good at this.”

“Maybe after dinner I can show you what else I’m good at,” Nico counters. 

Will waggles his eyebrows. “I foresee that I would enjoy that.”

They exchange details, and Will replaces his hood as he leaves, winking at Nico before turning to stroll away. 

“That was disgusting,” Leo says flatly.  

“Hey,” Nico shrugs, grinning, wondering if he can convince Jason to take his shift tomorrow morning. “There's no use fighting the power of prophecy.”

~~~~

Many thanks to @anything-thats-rock-and-roll for the quick beta & for enabling this ridiculousness

[my-lady-macbeth]

she roman on my emperor till I caesar