#goodboyaudios echo

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.. : 👇👇👇👇

Did you bring the glitter?

Albus “I’m just saying, if we pull this off, my dad’s gonna hopefully kill the old fucker. Probably. Maybe. Look, he’ll be mad and that’s enough for a heart attack or worse. Hopefully worse..”

Hipswitch “Albus.”

Echo “Why don’t you guys just throw a massive party? Like… isn’t that how those clout goblins got popular?”

Karmor gives a skeptical squint and a slow thumbs down.

Mahatma “Do you know how broke we are? Hipswitch is one canceled meal swipe away from biting people.”

Echo: slurping intensifies “Just come to my place after school. We can brainstorm.”

[Later — Echo’s “place”]

The gang expected a crusty apartment or an art-punk shack covered in duct tape and shame.

Instead: wrought iron gates. A fountain. Three-car garage. A yard so big Karmor almost disappeared into the shrubbery.

Hipswitch “What the fresh fuck is this?”

Attila “If you’re this fucking rich, why do you dress more homeless than my actually homeless boyfriend?”

Echo, hopping the skateboard up the steps like it’s a curb “Because I skateboard and do parkour? Nice clothes would just get shredded, duh. I thought you were supposed to be smart?”

Attila twitches slightly. Mahatma holds him back before echo becomes an actual echo of the past.

Echo unlocks the mansion door with a casual beep, swings it open, and immediately kicks off their beat-up sneakers like they own the place (they kinda do, in a haunted-exile-prince way).

Echo: “My parents don’t let me live in the main house. Something about ‘optics’ and ‘your hair looks like you electrocuted a raccoon.’ This one’s just mine. We can have the party here.”

Albus: visibly rebooting “Wait wait wait. This mansion is your… side house?”

Echo: “Yeah. You want pool access or no?”

Cue a planning montage.

Mahatma takes charge of logistics like it’s a military op. There’s a color-coded binder.

Hipswitch is in charge of “confiscating” snack donations from school vending machines and “appropriating” a sound system.

Attila brings Sibren, who immediately turns the abandoned garden into a barbecue station with like, twelve different meat skewers and a single tomato for vibes.

Karmor is in charge of lights. He rigged an LED display that pulses with bass and spells out “FUCK RICH KIDS.”

Albus grinning with the feral energy of a bastard on a mission

“We’re gonna party so hard they’ll have to invent a new word for ‘seethe.’”

Echo, sipping soda while sitting upside down on a couch:

Mid-Chaos Hour

The quiet hum of Echo’s hoverboard was the only thing keeping their brain from eating itself. Just vibin’ through the scrublands, helmet off, wind in their hair, headphones in, bass boomin’. No clue they were drifting dangerously close to an active bounty skirmish.

Cue the Big Mistake.

Colt, fresh off a kill and covered in gore like it’s designer couture, steps out from the brush. He’s 7-feet-tall, glowing-eyed, eldritch horror movie levels of terrifying. Echo, blissfully unaware, turns—makes direct eye contact.

They scream like a tea kettle shoved into a blender.

Their bag hits the dirt with a crunchy metallic clink.

Boom. Boom. BOOM. FLASH. POP.

A cascade of flashbangs erupts like a toddler opened Pandora’s rave kit. The world goes white. Then nothing but the wet ringing of eeeeEEEEEEEeeee.

“WHAT THE FUCK?! WHO THREW THE SUN?!”

Albus is clutching his face, stumbling backwards, eyes seared by light.

“I—I CAN’T—MY RETINAS—!”

Hipswitch is trying to tackle him back to cover, but tripping over Mahatma’s coat.

Karmor, the poor bastard, is on the ground flailing silently like a panicked ferret, mouthing “WHAT IS HAPPENING” because he can’t hear himself scream. Mahatma’s kneeling beside him, patting him down like a worried mom at a playground accident. “Did you bite your tongue again? Blink if you’re dying.”

Colt’s just… standing there. Face darkened by soot. Echo, now just a smoldering silhouette with frizzed hair, is shaking as Colt’s massive tail slowly curls around them like a python tucking in a nervous burrito.

“I’m so sorry,” Echo wheezes. “I didn’t know you were—like, there. You’re very tall. Like terrifying tall. Like cryptid tall.”

Colt exhales like someone who’s considering committing one last war crime for old time’s sake.

“I hit my murder quota this month… don’t make me file for overtime.”

Meanwhile, Hipswitch is physically restraining Albus, who’s still shouting, “JUST ONE PUNCH. ONE LITTLE PUNCH TO THE MOON,” while blindly swinging his sword in Echo’s direction.

Mah rolls his eyes, still checking Karmor’s pulse. Echo, fully curled up in Colt’s tail like a chastised kitten, meekly lifts a thumb.

Collision Course

The hoverboard was not supposed to do that.

One moment, Echo was cruising down the street, wind whipping past their ears, and the next—

The stabilizers screamed. The speed gauge shot into the red.

“Oh, no, no, NO—!”

Half a second later, Echo was launched forward at half the speed of sound, a streak of panic and bad decisions.

Colt didn’t even have time to turn around before—

WHAM.

They hit him full-force in the ribs, the hoverboard clattering off somewhere into the distance. Both went down in a tangle of limbs and swears.

Colt blinked, dazed, looking at the younger chaos gremlin sprawled across his chest.

They were grinning. Why were they grinning?

“…Hi,” Echo wheezed. “Nice catch.”

Colt just stared for a beat, then sighed — that long, I should’ve seen this coming sigh — and sat up, still holding onto the kid so they wouldn’t fall over.

“Great,” he muttered. “Another one.”

Echo tilted their head. “Another what?”

Colt gave them a flat look. “Chaos child. You’re mine now. No take-backs.”

Echo blinked, then grinned wider. “Cool. I’ve always wanted a brother.”

Somewhere down the street, the hoverboard exploded.

Colt didn’t even flinch.

.. a hour later..

Colt wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up here — trudging through the junkyard, arms piled high with scrap that clinked and clanged like a death rattle — but he knew exactly why.

It was the grinning gremlin trailing behind him, tossing another broken gear onto the pile like it weighed nothing.

“C’mon, Colt! Jesse said it’s cool! And since I’m family now, family rules apply!”

Colt grumbled something under his breath that probably translated to I didn’t agree to this adoption paperwork. His tail twitched irritably… until it instinctively looped around Echo’s waist, tugging them closer.

“Hey—!”

The moment later, they found out why.

Right in front of them: a ditch.

A ditch filled with very sharp, very pointy, very rusty metal shards.

Colt gave it a flat, unimpressed look.

“That’s a tetanus buffet,” he muttered.

And then—because the universe hated him—Echo tripped.

Colt yanked them back just in time, but in the process lost his own balance and half-slid into the pit. He caught himself with one hand, metal pile still balanced in the other, tail still locked tight around Echo.

“You okay?” Echo asked, blinking down at him.

Colt scowled up at them. “I almost became a kebab. With extra tetanus seasoning.”

Echo grinned. “Then it’s a good thing I’m here to save you, huh?”

Colt snorted, hauling himself out. “…Kid, if you’re my family, you’re definitely the reckless little sibling.”

Echo just beamed.

Colt just sighed.