what voice

Weird Old Man Taako Outwits Death (his husband, sister, and brother in law) and Lives Forever (and by lives forever I mean “annoys his family”)

Taako is supposed to die on the 18th of October, 652 A.H. Taako knows this. Taako stole Kravitz’s calendar-slash-agenda and on 10/18/52, it is marked in red: “Take Taako home.” There’s an asterisk mark with the addendum, “buy flowers maybe?”

Taako had grinned to see that. Even centuries after their wedding, his husband’s a sap. Guess people don’t change much. Taako knows he hasn’t.

He’s older, sure. His face has more lines, his knees hurt when he runs, there’s no way he’s doing his flip wizard routine anytime soon. He’s hung up his headmaster’s hat, checking into the school is mostly a formality these days and the Taako™ brand chugs along without his help, really.

But. Ch'boy’s still got it.

On October 17th, 652 A.H., Taako goes to sleep next to his husband. On the morning of the 18th, Kravitz is confused to wake up alone. He rubs his eyes and gropes around the bed half-asleep, expecting another body to be there.

“Taako?” he says. “You in the bathroom?”

Silence. Kravitz looks around. The bedroom is the same as last night. He notices a note on his nightstand. He picks it up. It’s Taako™ brand stationary.

He unfolds it.

“CATCH ME IF YOU CAN, BABE! LOVE, TAAKO ‘GONNA LIVE FOREVER’ TAACO”

It’s punctuated with a hot-pink lipstick kiss. Kravitz stares at it blankly, and then laughs. Okay. So that’s how it’s going to be. Kravitz summons his stone of farspeech. He dials a code that he knows by memory.

It rings once, twice, then the click of the line connecting.

“What?” Lup asks, mumbling. “It’s too early for work, Krav, callmebacklater.” She yawns.

“So you don’t want to help me hunt down your brother?” Kravitz says.

“He ran?” Kravitz can hear Lup’s grin.

“Mmhmm. He, uh, left a note.”

Lup laughs. Her voice gets farther away, as if she’s talking away from the phone.

“Barry? Babe, get up, sorry to wake you but we gotta go reap Taako’s ass.”

“What?” Barry’s voice, echoing. “Whuh? Okay—”  

“Give us fifteen, and we’ll be right over,” Lup says into the stone of farspeech, and then the connection clicks out.

Kravitz puts the stone away and sighs. He was going to do it easy, romantic. He had his house — their house — all ready, too. He even bought flowers. But, well, and Kravitz smiles, Taako wouldn’t be Taako if he did things the easy way.

Kravitz claps his hands, and his pajama-clad flesh form burns away into a be-suited skeleton. You know, for old times sake. He summons his scythe.

Alright. Time to track down his beloved husband.

8

me: i think adults with a track record of producing content that is racist/transphobic/pedophilic/etc and have refused to listen to minorities who voice their concern over their content should not ever be coddled under the “protect artists” umbrella and deserve to be harassed off of their public platform in order to ensure their hurtful and dangerous content does not continue to spread

some fucking bozo: hmmm!! perhaps it is YOU who is the abuser!!!!!!!