Today marks the final day of this war. Seeing as our head, Worm Dealer, has decided to end this war with a duel to the death with the leader of the AHR, @iincogneeto. Armed forces may return to their homes if they wish. @iqirius is dismissed from their military position over base and may return to their quarters of living when they wish.
The DDA will return to the COA for further guidance following the actions of this duel and post a formal statement.
Depending on the winner, the DDA will rather retreat from the war efforts or force a peace treaty upon the AHR. Either way, it’s decided that this war is decisively over.
The medic department are on standby for any who are injured and wish to receive treatment. Thank you to all who have fought on both sides of this war your sacrifice si greatly appreciated.
We believe in you, head wormy dealer and will be eagerly awaiting the results of your duel. Good luck to both parties, wishing all a safe return home.
Council members (@soup-sloth and @therealbr1gh7ey3s specifically),
As stated in the post below:
💬 0 🔁 3 ❤️ 3 · Thank you for your advice on this matter Rio. Me and COA will work to see if we find any things need for tweaking to make i
solzticesoulz has stated our logo is too close to the AHR. Though Rio ruled in our favor, they advice we could tweak things. I ask for your opinion on the matter to decide if we should change or create a new one.
I believe our logo is not similar to the AHR in any way.
We have 3 spikes they have four, we have a needle, they have an eye, there is little to no correlation and I do not believe there is a need for a change of logo. If there is a problem it is one they have created.
short stories capturing moments between Fred and Bright Eyes before they were turned for my favourite bright and Fred enthusiast @therealbr1gh7ey3s !
Rooftop Conversations
The wind was sharp against their faces, but neither of them cared. Bright Eyes dangled their legs over the edge of the rooftop, lazily tossing bits of gravel into the empty parking lot below. Fred sat beside them, back against the ledge, one knee pulled up to his chest, fingers idly picking at a loose thread in his jeans.
“Do you think we’ll still be friends when we’re old?” Bright Eyes asked suddenly, their breath visible in the cold night air.
Fred snorted. “Define ‘old.’”
“Like… eighty. Wrinkly. Probably complaining about our joints.”
Fred exhaled through his nose, amused. “Yeah. I think so.”
Bright Eyes hummed, satisfied. “Good. I don’t wanna be some sad old person sitting on a porch alone, yelling at kids to get off my lawn.”
Fred glanced at them, head tilted slightly. “Oh, so you just assume I’ll be there? What if I get married and move across the country?”
Bright Eyes scoffed, kicking their legs out. “Yeah, right. You? Mr. ‘I Hate Talking to Strangers’ is gonna meet someone, fall in love, and leave me behind?” They grinned. “Doubt it.”
Fred rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. They weren’t wrong.
Bright Eyes leaned back on their palms, looking up at the sky. “I dunno… It’s weird to think about the future, y’know? Like, I know I wanna do things, but sometimes it’s like… what if I don’t get to?”
Fred frowned. “What do you mean?”
They shrugged. “I dunno. What if I don’t make it to eighty? What if life just… stops early?”
A chill ran down Fred’s spine, but he shook it off. “You will,” he said, firm.
Bright Eyes turned to look at him, studying his face for a moment. Then, they smirked. “You’d be so pissed if I died first.”
Fred made a face. “Don’t say that.”
“No, but you would,” they insisted, grinning. “You’d be brooding as hell. Sitting in a dark room, listening to sad music, probably writing poetry or some shit.”
Fred sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Why am I even friends with you?”
Bright Eyes bumped their shoulder against his. “Because you love me.”
He didn’t say anything to that.
But they were right.
Midnight Drive-Thru
“Dude, you’re gonna hit the curb.”
“I am not gonna hit the curb.”
“You’re way too close—”
A loud thud rattled the car as Fred misjudged the turn, the front tire bouncing over the curb before settling back onto the pavement.
Bright Eyes burst out laughing, slapping their knee. “I told you! I literally told you!”
Fred groaned, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Shut up.”
Still laughing, Bright Eyes leaned over to inspect the side mirror. “Oh my God, I think you scraped it.”
Fred threw them a glare before pulling forward to the drive-thru speaker. “If you say one word to the cashier, I’m kicking you out of the car.”
Bright Eyes mimed zipping their lips but their grin was impossible to hide.
The speaker crackled. “Welcome to—”
“We need, like, fifty chicken nuggets,” Bright Eyes blurted before Fred could say anything.
Fred pinched the bridge of his nose. “I—just—can I get a ten-piece meal? And a milkshake?”
The worker repeated the order, Bright Eyes snickering the entire time.
When Fred pulled up to the window, Bright Eyes put on their best innocent expression. “Hey, um, did you guys used to have a manager named Daniel? Tall guy? Kinda mean?”
The worker blinked. “Uh… no?”
Bright Eyes sighed dramatically. “Damn. I really wanted to fight him.”
Fred shoved them back into their seat, mumbling, “I swear to God.”
When they got their food, Bright Eyes immediately stole a fry from Fred’s bag.
“Are you serious?” Fred asked, exasperated.
Bright Eyes grinned, mouth full. “What’re you gonna do? Hit another curb?”
Fred sighed, shaking his head. But when Bright Eyes turned to look out the window, he smirked a little to himself.
The Abandoned House
“This is a terrible idea,” Fred muttered.
Bright Eyes grinned as they pushed open the rusted gate of the old, abandoned house. “Which is why it’s a great idea.”
The house had been empty for years, a local legend wrapped in ghost stories and dares no one actually followed through on. But Bright Eyes? They had no fear. And Fred, despite his better judgment, always followed them.
The door creaked as they stepped inside. Dust coated the floor, thick and undisturbed except for a few scattered footprints from past intruders. The air was stale, carrying the faint scent of mold and old wood.
“This place is definitely haunted,” Bright Eyes whispered dramatically.
Fred sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “If I get possessed, I’m haunting you specifically.”
They made their way through the house, peering into empty rooms, giggling at every floorboard that groaned under their weight.
In what used to be the living room, a single chair sat in the middle of the floor, eerie in its loneliness.
“Okay, that’s creepy,” Bright Eyes admitted.
Fred smirked. “What, now you’re scared?”
Bright Eyes huffed and marched up to the chair, plopping down on it. “Boom. Cursed. I’m haunted now.”
Fred crossed his arms. “Congrats. I’ll tell your ghost story to future generations.”
They laughed, the sound echoing through the empty house.
Fred didn’t argue. They bolted out of there so fast that Bright Eyes tripped over the porch steps, landing flat on their stomach. Fred was laughing so hard he could barely help them up.
“I hate you,” Bright Eyes grumbled as they dusted themselves off.
Fred grinned. “No, you don’t.”
They sighed dramatically. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. But next time you go first.”
Fred just shook his head, knowing damn well there’d be a next time.
These moments were them. Carefree, reckless, alive.
They never thought they’d lose that.
But time had other plans.
Let me know if you want more or something similar!
Fangs & Farewell
Bright Eyes has settled into their new life in Dahlia, surrounded by vampiric friends who make the nights feel alive. Th
A final farewell
The vampire filled bar thrums with energy—low lights, deep red velvet, the distant hum of music thrumming through the walls like a second heartbeat. Bright Eyes is at the center of it all, laughing as they swirl a glass of deep, rich liquor in one hand, their other arm draped lazily over the back of the booth. Their friends crowd around them, talking fast, drunk on blood and expensive spirits, basking in the carefree haze of the night.
Tonight feels endless, weightless, exactly how they want it. A night spent in indulgence, in forgetting.
Another drink. Another joke. Another shared glance across the table.
Their world tilts slightly as they stand, the alcohol humming through their veins, their mind fogged in a warm, buzzing glow. Their friends are still caught in their own conversations, tangled in flirtation and mischief, but Bright Eyes is tired—of the noise, of the room spinning just enough to make them feel like they’re floating. They need air.
They step out into the night alone.
The cold bites at their flushed skin, the contrast sharp against the heat of the bar. The streets of Dahlia are empty at this hour, the kind of silence that should feel peaceful but instead hums with something heavy, something unseen.
The heels of their boots click against the pavement as they walk.
A shift in the air. A presence behind them.
Their instincts are dulled by the alcohol, but a small voice in the back of their mind murmurs: You’re being followed.
They glance over their shoulder.
The figure is shadowed, moving too smoothly to be human, too slow to be in a rush. A predator’s pace.
Bright Eyes’ pulse stutters, but they shake off the fear. They’re a vampire now. They are the thing that should be feared.
Still, unease curls in their stomach.
They pick up their pace.
So does he.
The realization hits too late.
A hand grabs them, shoving them hard against the rough brick of an alley wall. Their skull bounces off stone, vision flashing white-hot for a moment. Their breath rushes out of them as they struggle, but their limbs feel slow, sluggish.
The figure looms over them. A man. A vampire. But not like them, not like the ones they surround themselves with. His face is gaunt, hollow, his eyes wild with hunger, with something desperate and raw.
A rouge.
“what the fuck-?”
His hand clamps around their throat before they can say anything else.
“Be silent… it’ll only hurt a bit…,” he murmurs. His voice is low, flat, like he isn’t all the way present. Like he’s just following instinct.
Fangs sink deep into their neck.
The pain is sharp, searing at first, then worse—a deep, pulling sensation, the kind that drags everything out of them too fast, too much. Their body jerks, fingers grasping weakly at his coat, but the fight is already slipping away.
The hunger in his bite is cruel, greedy, nothing like the playful, harmless feeds in the bars, nothing like the intimacy of shared blood between friends.
This is different.
This is a death sentence.
The world tilts again, but this time, it doesn’t right itself.
The lights of the street beyond the alley blur, melting into dark smudges. The rough brick behind them is the only thing keeping them upright, but even that won’t hold them much longer.
Their knees buckle.
And then they’re falling.
Falling into nothing.
The night is peaceful.
—————————————
Frederick enjoys nights like these—the quiet ones, the ones that feel untouched by the chaos of the city. He doesn’t go out often, but tonight, he just felt the need to walk, to be out in the open instead of curled up in the suffocating silence of his home.
He exhales slowly, watching the mist of his breath curl in the cold air.
Then he smells it.
Blood.
Rich. Fresh. Too much of it.
Something tightens in his chest.
It’s probably nothing. Probably a drunk fight gone wrong, some reckless vampire who got a little too carried away. That happens all the time in Dahlia. It’s not his problem.
But his feet are already moving toward the alley.
His stomach twists before he even sees.
And then—
A body.
Slumped against the wall, blood staining the pavement in thick, dark pools.
Fred’s heart stutters. His vision narrows.
No.
His knees hit the ground before he realizes he’s moving. Hands shake as they reach forward, pressing against too-cold skin, brushing blood-damp hair away from a face he knows all too well.
Bright.
Their eyes are barely open, their lips parted like they want to speak but don’t have the strength. Their chest rises in shallow, struggling breaths, but he can already see it—they won’t last much longer.
Panic surges through him. “Hey—hey, stay with me,” he pleads, pulling them into his lap, arms wrapping around their limp body. “Just—just hold on, okay? Just—”
Their fingers twitch weakly against his sleeve. Their lips move, but no sound comes out.
And then—
They exhale. A slow, fragile sigh.
Their body goes still.
Fred freezes. His hands press against their arms, their shoulders, their back, trying to feel something—anything. But there’s nothing left.
“No.” His voice is barely a whisper.
His fingers tighten in their blood-soaked clothes.
The grief hits fast, too fast, like a punch to the ribs. Like something vital is being ripped out of him, leaving a hollow space where it used to be.
He bows his head, pressing his forehead against their cooling skin, his whole body trembling.
“I forgive you,” he whispers, voice cracking.
The words spill out before he can stop them.
“I forgive you.”
He repeats it again.
And again.
And again.
Like a prayer. Like an apology. Like a plea to something—someone—who will never hear it.
scene bite #3 that i might finish next month if i have enough energy (this is Vega and Warden when they have their lil convo at the end of Demons and Egregore :3)
scene bite #3 that i might finish next month if i have enough energy (this is Vega and Warden when they have their lil convo at the end of Demons and Egregore :3)
'I have a feeling you got everything you wanted' and it's bright looking out their window to see fredrick with sam and darlin. With his new family.
'And your not wasting time stuck here like me' and it's bright struggling with internalised hate and resentment for being turned.
'Your just thinking it's a small thing that happened' sam helping fredrick throught the bloodlust and bad feelings about being turned. Being taught its ok to hurt and be mad
'the world ended when it happened to me' and it's sam getting mad with bright and blaming them. It's bright waking up and being told what happened. It's bright having no say at all.
'I have a feeling you got everything you wanted' and it's fredrick looking at bright as a vampire seeing them angry yet alive
'And your not wasting time stuck here like me' and it's fredrick still struggling to cope with turning
'Your just thinking it's a small thing that happened' and it's fredrick running to bright to turn them, desperate
'the world ended when it happened to me' and it's fredrick telling bright to turn around and go back. It's fredrick being awake for the turning.
I WISH I could draw and animate cause you bet I'd be eating this shit up frfr
I don't know anyone to tag so 🤷
If you want tags on the rare chance I post let me know!!
I have an idea for an animatic but I can't draw for shit
I’m Just a Man (Redacted)
But when does a comet become a meteor
(Milo throws himself against the ward)
When does a candle become a blaze
(Damien fights Kody)
When does a man become a monster
(David calls for the ward to be sealed)
When does a ripple become a tidal wave
(Kody pushes people towards the shades)
When does the reason become the blame
(Freelancer lets the ward close behind them)
When does a man become a monster
(Lasko breaking down)
Forgive me (Gavin loses Xavier)
Forgive me (David holding Asher)
Forgive me I’m just a man
(Vincent turns Lovely)
