#goodboyaudios aster

The Vows We Bury

The sun over Springrock wasn’t gentle—it never was—but today, it felt less like a threat and more like a blessing. The horizon burned gold, the light slipping over the dust and catching on the white canopy that swayed lazily in the courtyard breeze.

Colt stood at the edge, boots scuffed, leaning against a wooden post. For once, his grin was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t the one getting married, but the way his gaze stayed on Sibren, you’d think he was the one about to say goodbye.

In the center, Sibren stood awkwardly in high-waisted black slacks Mahatma insisted he wear. The plain white shirt was rolled to his elbows, a faint green scarf—his mother’s—wrapped around his arm. In his pocket was a faded ribbon, his sister’s, the fabric worn smooth from years of worry.

Mahatma crossed the courtyard toward him, not in a grand suit but in dark, clean attire, a silver healer’s pin catching the sun on their chest. Attila—never subtle—wore a faint smirk like they knew every secret worth knowing.

When Mahatma reached him, his stilled Sibren’s restless hands.

“You’re shaking,” they murmured.

Sibren laughed quietly. “You’re… not?”

Attila’s mouth curved. “We don’t shake. We bite when nervous.”

The crowd’s laughter broke the tension just enough for Sibren to breathe.

The Vows..

“I don’t have fancy words,” Sibren began, voice catching. “You found me when I was… running myself into the ground. I didn’t know if I’d make it to the next sunrise. You… kept me here. So I’m keeping both you here, too.”

Mahatma’s eyes softened, his voice steady. “I swore to heal anyone who needed me. But you’ve been healing me since the day we met. And I want you to keep doing that—for as long as we both keep surviving in this place.”

The rings passed between them, hands lingering longer than necessary. Colt had to look away, his jaw tight.

When the officiate, Faith pronounced them, the courtyard exploded into noise—cheers, clinking glasses, the start of music.

In Crowd…

Hipswitch was fussing with Karmor’s tie, or maybe just using it as an excuse to pull him close. Karmor rolled his eyes but didn’t move away. Colt smirked at the sight, Rowen’s fingers laced in his, thumb brushing his knuckles.

Meeka tore through the crowd with Kerano chasing close behind, her flower crown bouncing. Kael and Rowena sat on a railing, pretending to be too cool for all this but flicking sand at each other when no one was looking.

Faith—radiant in a dress that even Albus couldn’t stop staring at—moved through the tables with cake samples. Devlin stood beside Aster, who had wildflowers in her braid and a secret smile she only shared with him.

Even Echo was here, fiddling with a drone that hovered over the dance floor carrying a tiny bouquet. Ezekai kept his usual quiet watch, a hand always somewhere between his drink and his kids.

The First Dance…

The music softened to strings and quiet percussion. Sibren and Mahatma met at the edge of the floor, and for a moment, it was just them. Mahatma’s hand slid into his, the other finding its way to his shoulder.

Sibren hesitated. “I don’t really… dance.”

“Then just stand here and sway,” Mahatma replied, their mouth tugging in that rare, unguarded smile.

They moved slowly, the sand crunching beneath their boots. Sibren kept his gaze low at first, but when Mahatma tipped his chin up, the look they shared was enough to make Colt—watching from the bar—take a long drink to hide his face.

The scarf around Sibren’s arm caught the breeze, brushing Mahatma’s wrist. The ribbon stayed in his pocket, but the weight of it felt different now—not just loss, but something carried forward.

Under the Table…

Somewhere between speeches and laughter, Kerano crawled beneath a table to escape the noise. Meeka followed, because that’s what Meeka did. Their giggles faded into whispers.

“Do you think they’ll be here forever?” Meeka asked.

Kerano twisted the ribbon Ezekai had tied on her wrist that morning.

“I dunno,” she said. “People don’t stay forever. But… I think they can.”

Outside, the music rose. Inside, they held onto the idea like it was a solid thing.

The Night Slows…

The wind cooled as the sun dipped, painting the sand violet. Albus and Faith swayed together, Devlin pressed his forehead to Aster’s, Hipswitch rested his chin on Karmor’s head. Colt leaned against Rowen, murmuring something that made the weretiger laugh against his neck.

Mahatma found Sibren near the vase of pale flowers. The ribbon was tied there now.

“She would’ve liked them,” Mahatma said.

Sibren swallowed hard. “She would’ve laughed at me for crying at my own wedding.”

Mahatma didn’t answer, just rested their forehead against his. Around them, the sounds of Springrock’s joy blurred into something soft.

In a place like this, forever wasn’t promised. But tonight, under the fading light, they had it. And for now, that was enough.

My reaction making something so sweet I got to take breaks to cry at how fucked up I break Colt for killing his fiancee three months before their wedding. (Rip Meksha) and then killing his son after. (But I brought Oriel well now Meeka in honor of Meksha). Omfg, I won’t kill of Colt’s new lover. Maybe.. : 👇👇👇👇

Cotton Candy Skies

Carnival Night

The fairgrounds were alive with neon lights and the smell of fried sugar. Popcorn machines whirred, tinny music blasted from speakers, and the sound of laughter carried under the glow of the ferris wheel.

It was the perfect night for a carnival.

Karmor wasn’t entirely sure how Hipswitch convinced him to go on the flying swing ride. He wasn’t scared, exactly, but his stomach flipped every time the swings lifted and the world tilted beneath his feet.

Meanwhile, Hipswitch sat beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world, legs stretched out, wind in his messy hair, grinning like a fool.

“You’re holding on like the chains are gonna break,” Hipswitch teased, nudging Karmor with his knee.

“They might,” Karmor shot back, cheeks red.

Hipswitch leaned closer as the swings soared higher, until the carnival lights below blurred into streaks. “If they do, I’ll catch you.”

That earned him a startled laugh from Karmor. When the ride swooped down and the wind whipped around them, Hipswitch reached across the gap and laced their fingers together. Karmor’s embarrassment melted into something warm, chest tight, butterflies tumbling harder than the swings themselves.

He couldn’t stop smiling.

Across the midway, Albus was hunched over a rigged carnival game, jaw set like he was facing a mortal enemy. The game runner looked more nervous than him as the man launched another ball with terrifying precision.

A moment later, the last target clattered down.

Albus stood up straight, smirking as the attendant reluctantly handed over a giant stuffed bear. Faith raised her brows, unimpressed.

“You do realize Kerano is about half the size of that thing, right?” she asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Albus said, depositing the bear in Kerano’s little arms. “She earned it by existing.”

Kerano giggled, nearly toppling backward under the bear’s weight. Faith sighed, though her smile betrayed her fondness.

“Ridiculous,” she muttered, reaching up to kiss his cheek anyway.

Devlin leaned against a fence, phone pressed to his ear. He was only half-watching Albus parade around like a conquering hero.

“Aster, please tell me you’re on your way.”

Through the crackle of the call, Aster’s voice came, dry as ever. ‘Why? He winning you toys too?’

Devlin groaned. “No, he’s winning Faith and Kerano things and rubbing it in my face. He’s unbearable when he’s happy.”

There was a pause, then Aster’s soft chuckle. ‘Sounds like you could use backup. I’ll be there soon, Devlin.’

Devlin exhaled, tension easing. “Good. Because if he wins a second bear, I’m leaving him here.”

Mahatma and Attila strolled through the candy stalls, arms linked. Mahatma was trying to eat a caramel apple with dignity while Attila chatted about how sticky his face was going to be later.

“I can hear you judging me,” Mahatma muttered.

“I’m not judging,” Attila replied smugly, “I’m observing. There’s a difference.”

Before Mahatma could retort, Sibren appeared at their side, happily munching on cotton candy bigger than his head. He offered a tuft with a grin. “Want some?”

Mahatma shook his head, still chewing. Attila, of course, piped up: “Yes, take it, don’t let him eat all of it, he’ll get a sugar high.”

So Mahatma reluctantly plucked some, chewing with a faint smile.

The three of them wandered the rows of bright booths and flashing lights, laughing at nothing and everything, trailing crumbs and sugar behind them like kids let loose for the first time.

By the time the night ended, everyone was carrying something — Kerano with her bear, Sibren with a bag of sweets, Faith with Albus’s jacket draped around her shoulders, Mahatma clutching Attila’s chosen snack prize, Devlin finally free of his brother’s boasting thanks to Aster arriving at last.

And Hipswitch? He was still holding Karmor’s hand, the neon carnival lights painting both their smiles in pink and gold.

“See?” he murmured as they walked toward the exit. “Didn’t die.”

Karmor rolled his eyes but squeezed his hand tighter. “Not yet.”

Girls Night Out

The restaurant wasn’t fancy, but that was exactly the point. Aster leaned back in her chair, boots kicked up under the table, grinning at the way Faith kept glancing at the clock on the wall like it was going to scold her.

“Relax,” Aster said, stabbing her fork into a mountain of noodles. “Kerano and the kids are fine. Devlin’s with them. He’s like… the ultimate dad. Trust me, nothing’s on fire. Except maybe the soup.”

Faith laughed softly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I know, I just… it feels weird. Leaving them all for the night.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve been running that orphanage like it’s a kingdom and you’re the queen,” Aster shot back, pointing with her fork. “But even queens need a spa day. That’s where I come in.”

Faith raised an eyebrow. “Spa day?”

“Oh, you’re not escaping me.” Aster leaned forward, lowering her voice like she was plotting a heist. “Hot bath. Face masks. Maybe cucumber slices if I can steal some from Devlin’s kitchen stash. And if you’re really brave… a pedicure.”

Faith covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me,” Aster said smugly. “Come on, Faith. You spend all your time patching up scraped knees, braiding hair, and making sure Devlin doesn’t break something stupid in the workshop. Tonight? Tonight you’re letting me take care of you.”

Faith gave her a long, quiet look before finally sighing in mock defeat. “…Fine. But if you put glitter in my hair again, I’m dunking your head in the bath.”

Aster’s grin stretched ear to ear. “Deal. Now eat up, because after this? It’s spa time, baby.”

Faith shook her head, but the weight she usually carried—responsibility, worry, exhaustion—wasn’t pressing so heavy tonight. For once, she let herself laugh freely with her best friend.

And maybe, just maybe, she was looking forward to those cucumber slices.

Later…

Faith and Aster were still carrying little paper bags of snacks from the outdoor market, strolling back toward the orphanage under the lantern-lit street. The smell of roasted nuts and spiced bread clung to their clothes, and Faith was smiling in a way she hadn’t in ages.

That smile grew sharp when she opened the door.

Because inside the orphanage common room stood Devlin. In a sparkly pink princess dress. His wrists tied together with ribbons. Plastic tiara askew.

The boys were rolling on the floor laughing. The girls—Kerano at the front like a conquering general—were grinning like gremlins who’d just pulled off the heist of the century.

“Papa Devlin promised!” Kerano sang, hands on her hips. “He said we could play dress-up after supper!”

Faith clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from howling, while Aster leaned against the doorframe, absolutely wheezing.

“Devlin,” Aster crooned, walking up with that wicked grin, “do you… need a knight to come rescue you?”

“Aster, hun.. stop,” he hissed, his ears pinker than the skirt he was wearing. “I’m embarrassed enough already.”

Faith, of course, snapped a picture. One-handed, casual as could be. A second later she flicked it off to Albus. Seconds later, her communicator pinged—one giant 😂 from Albus, who couldn’t type but very much knew how to mock his older brother.

Devlin groaned like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“Oh no, don’t hide,” Aster teased, reaching out to adjust his crooked tiara. “You’re the prettiest princess I ever did see.”

Kerano gasped, her little hands flying to her cheeks. “You said I’m the prettiest princess, Aunty Aster!”

Aster froze for half a beat, caught red-handed in toddler politics. “…You’re the littlest prettiest princess,” she said, quick as lightning. “Devlin’s just… uh… my big pretty princess.”

Faith finally lost it, doubling over with laughter while Devlin muttered something about moving to another planet.

But even with the teasing, Aster leaned in close when the kids weren’t looking, whispering to him with a grin, “I missed you, pretty princess.”

Lipstick and Bandages

Devlin hissed under his breath as Aster tied the last strip of gauze around his forearm. He’d burned himself again—nothing life-threatening, just another one of those careless slips when he got too deep into his forging. The new weapon frame on the workbench glowed faintly with heat, like it was laughing at him for being reckless.

Aster didn’t look amused. Her fox ears twitched in annoyance, her eyes narrowed as she dabbed ointment a little harder than necessary.

“You’re lucky I love you, Devy,” she muttered, tucking the edge of the bandage in neatly. “Otherwise I’d let you sit here and stew in your own stubbornness.”

Devlin, sitting obediently on the stool like a scolded schoolboy, could only grin at her. That crooked, lopsided grin that made her heart flip. “I like when you fuss over me,” he said shamelessly.

Aster rolled her eyes, but her cheeks pinked. “You’re impossible.”

Before he could argue, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his temple. Then another to his cheek. Then another on the tip of his nose. Devlin blinked, then started laughing as she smothered his face with kisses, peppering every inch with lipstick marks—each one brighter than the last.

“Hey—hey!” he chuckled, squirming half-heartedly, but he never pushed her away. His laughter broke into a soft sigh as she kissed along his jaw, his forehead, the corners of his mouth. By the time she leaned back, his rugged face was covered in smudged lipstick stains.

Devlin touched his cheek, then looked at his fingers like he’d been marked with something holy. “I look ridiculous,” he said—but the way he was smiling, eyes crinkling with pure joy, made it clear he didn’t mean it.

“You look perfect,” Aster corrected, cupping his face in her hands. “And now everyone will know you’re mine.”

Devlin leaned into her palms, warmth blooming in his chest. “As if I could ever belong to anyone else.”

Aster laughed, tail flicking behind her as she pulled him into a hug. He nestled his face against her shoulder, still grinning like a fool, and she held him there—her stubborn, brilliant, reckless Devy.

Warm Pillow

The workshop was strangely quiet. Usually Devlin filled the air with the sound of tools, muttering, or Kerano’s bright little laugh as she sat nearby. Today, though, the only sound was his pathetic groan as he tugged a blanket tighter around himself.

Faith had been right — she warned him not to cuddle Kerano when she was running a fever. But how was he supposed to say no? One look into those watery eyes and his resolve melted. Now both of them were down for the count.

Faith’s voice had been sharp but fond as she called Aster:

“Come get your sick fool, I already have one patient here. I’m not mothering two at once.”

So here she was, knocking gently before letting herself in, a paper bag of groceries balanced in one hand.

“Devy?” she called softly.

From the bedroom came another groan. “If it’s the reaper, make it quick…”

Aster laughed, low and bright, setting the bag on the counter before stepping in. The sight of him hit her heart—Devlin, stubborn and broad-shouldered, curled up like a kicked pup under a blanket nest. His hair was mussed, cheeks flushed, and he blinked at her like he couldn’t quite believe she was real.

“You’re a sorry sight,” she teased, slipping out of her coat and toeing off her boots.

“Don’t—” Devlin’s voice cracked. “Don’t mock a dying man.”

“You’re not dying.” Aster climbed onto the bed beside him, sliding into the nest until her warmth pressed against his. He sighed instantly, burrowing into her chest, arms curling around her middle like a needy fox kit.

She giggled, brushing her fingers through his hair. “Faith’s taking care of Kerano. She sent me to wrangle you.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, eyes already slipping closed as his forehead pressed into her collarbone. “Best decision she’s ever made.”

His voice was muffled, hoarse, but tender as he kept mumbling. “Why would someone like you—so strong, so smart, so… beautiful—did I already say beautiful? Yeah, I did—why would you even want to waste your time with me?”

Aster smiled, soft and fox-like, leaning down to kiss the top of his fever-warm head. “Because you’re my Devy. And because I love you, idiot.”

He tilted his head up just enough to catch her lips in a clumsy kiss, then flopped back down with another groan. “Unfair. Even sick, you’re perfect.”

“And even sick,” she teased, pulling the blanket tighter around both of them, “you’re still my favorite.”

Soon his breath evened out, his body relaxing completely in her hold. Aster lay there smiling, stroking his hair, while outside the wind rattled the windows. For once, neither bounty hunting nor Springrock’s chaos mattered.