Beautiful Work💥💥💥

Do you have a strawpage/ about me post? :)

I wish I did- I am pretty busy but I’m thinking of doing one when Im free!!

oh how I love her…

then there is the blue jester idk/j

I wouldnt be able to finish my test because I would be giggling and twirling my hair/hj

he can straight up shot me I would enjoy it💔💔

Imagine Anaxa as an exam invigilator, standing by your side the WHOLE time, with his gun in hand and everything ☠️

RJSJEJJFKSKDLAKDKAKSKAKSKDMGPEMVPWKPFSLLFKSPFLSLFLSLCLSLDKK

The princesses y'all

Just found out that Anaxa LOVES dromas from the livestream so what about Anaxa who asks you out on a date and his best idea of a date is to spend time with dromas such as feeding them, petting, riding and buying dromas themed stuffs 😭

A Childlike Joy in the Soul

Who would have known that such a scholar as Anaxa, also called a blasphemer, loved to spend time with his beloved, feeding and petting dromas?

If there ever was a place capable of turning a stern heretic scholar into an ecstatic child, it was the dromas nursery. These majestic creatures, with their massive necks and kind eyes, were not just living beings — they seemed like living symbols of resilience and the stubbornness of life in this ever-changing world.

And so one day, in a rare moment free from debates, research, and arguments with Aglaea, Anaxa approached his beloved and, lowering his voice slightly, said almost solemnly:

"Come with me. I want to show you something important."

It wasn't an order. Rather, it was an invitation to that corner of his world where he let few in. Even his beloved was surprised at first: Anaxa usually kept his personal life to himself, especially his weaknesses. But noticing a barely perceptible spark in his eyes, she agreed without hesitation.

The dromas nursery greeted them with a warm breeze, the scent of damp earth, and a soft, low rumble as the majestic creatures stretched their long necks towards the feeders.

Anaxa seemed transformed. His gait became lighter, his gaze livelier. He led his beloved through the nursery between the enclosures, where massive geosaurs peacefully munched on red earth.

"This is Raloum," he said quietly, gently stroking the large flank of one of them. "He was injured during transport, but now... now he can wear a saddle again. Look how proudly he stands."

His beloved watched him with a smile. Strangely, even Anaxa's voice sounded different. Warmer. Deeper.

He took some red earth and offered one to her.

"They love it. Especially if you feed them by hand. Like this... carefully..."

The enormous dromas leaned towards her palm and gently nibbled the clay. Its breath was warm, and its eyes seemed wise and calm. She couldn't resist touching the rough skin on its neck. The creature purred contentedly, and a soft cooing sound escaped from somewhere in its chest.

"See? He accepted you," Anaxa said with undisguised pleasure.

Then he led her to an enclosure where young, saddled dromas stood.

"I've arranged a ride for two. Just you, me, and a leisurely path through the sun and blooming hills."

Riding the dromas turned out to be a special experience. These creatures moved smoothly, almost meditatively. Each of their steps echoed with a rhythmic vibration, and it felt as if the whole world slowed down in unison with their gait.

They rode side by side, occasionally exchanging glances without words. But words were not needed. Real happiness shone in Anaxa's eyes. His shoulders relaxed, and he even laughed when one of the geosaurs turned its head and tried to "steal" the remains of the red earth from his companion.

After the ride, they went into a small shop, cozily decorated with soft toys, jewelry, mugs, and books — all in the dromas style.

"This is silly, of course," he murmured, picking out a toy, but his movements were sure, and his voice held an almost childlike liveliness. "But... this pillow with Raloum's face will fit perfectly in the study."

His beloved simply smiled in response.

The one whom everyone knew as a cold, unwavering heretic, capable of questioning the very foundations of faith, now stood in a souvenir shop, hesitating between a mug with a picture of a smiling geosaur and a painting with a funny inscription: "I'm not late, I'm just moving at dromas pace."

In the end, he took both.

And in the evening, as they sat on the grass, tired and content, Anaxa laid his head on her lap and said with a light, uncharacteristic smile:

"Thank you for coming with me. I don't often show what's dear to me... But with you, I want to share."

That day, his usual mask of a scholar didn't so much crack as recede into the background. Because next to her, he could be more than just a heretic and a thinker. He could simply be a human being. A child at heart. Someone who knows how to laugh, feed giant lizards, and drink tea from a mug with a dromas picture.

Because next to her, he was himself.

Virgo's unique (?) Downed animation

So in battle she stands on a mini stage/pedestal because shes a conductor, when shes downed she kneels in defeat on that stage. But instead of being alone like that all her starsouls surround her panicking and shaking her as if to wake her up :(

Her precious daughters istg

can i request a doomed anaxa x fem reader like reader dosent want him to constantly use his own body for his alchemy research stuff , he understands her but does it anyway

uhh angst with comfort or angst with no comfort u can decidee

and also thank you for the amazing fics u writee ❤❤❤

Shards of Gold

He understood that he was hurting not only himself but her too, yet he could no longer stop himself.

Anaxa burned with alchemy. Not just interested – he lived it, ready to give everything down to the last drop for an answer. A mind as sharp as a razor, focused on knowledge. His body was merely a vessel, which he unhesitatingly laid on the altar of science.

You always knew what you were getting into. From the very beginning, from that dreadful moment when you saw him inject a murky reagent into his vein, testing how quickly the wounds would heal. You understood: it wouldn't be easy. But you naively believed you could handle it.

Anaxa was neither evil nor cruel. He always listened to you, took your trembling hands in his, kissed your temple when you cried from helplessness. He smiled guiltily when you found him in the laboratory, drowning in shards of test tubes and bloodied bandages.

"You understand why I need this, don't you?" he once whispered, lying in bed with a bandage on his chest, where just recently he had been tinkering, implanting some glowing crystal. "If not me, then who?"

You understood. But that didn't make it any easier.

You saw his skin lose its vibrant color, how a strange golden sheen showed through beneath it, pulsing under his veins. His eyes became deeper, heavier, as if someone were slowly dripping light into them from another world.

You whispered: "Stop. Please."

He hugged you tightly. He was silent, stubbornly pressing his lips together. And he continued his mad experiments.

Sometimes you were overwhelmed by the desire to smash all those cursed flasks to smithereens, lock his laboratory with a rusty padlock, tear the blueprints to shreds. You wanted to scream, to sob. But you knew: he would simply start all over again. On the cold floor, on his knees, writing formulas in his own blood.

You sat beside him when he lost consciousness after another experiment. You held his lifeless hand, listened to the erratic beat of his heart. Silently swallowed tears until he opened his eyes and looked at you with that same guilty smile.

"Forgive me... I shouldn't have... But I was so close..."

Sometimes you dreamed that one day he would wake up and say: "That's it. Enough. I choose you."

But he chose his formulas, theorems, mad experiments again. And his sacrifice – himself.

You didn't leave. Ever.

But every new scar on his strange, changing body left a painful crack in your heart.

And with each passing day, the light within you faded. Not because the love was gone, but because love is not always capable of conquering obsession.

One day you sat in the dim light, watching as the light passed through his almost transparent figure, as if through a cloudy glass covered with a network of fine cracks. He was no longer the young man you had once loved. He had become something else. He had become alchemy itself.

You loved him. And that love caused unbearable pain.

Because he would never stop.

And because you would still stay by his side. Even when he crumbled into golden dust and ashes.

And you would remain the last one to remember what he was like before he became obsessed with his mad dream.

How does this version sound to you? I think it has become a bit more vivid, with more emphasis on the heroine's feelings and inner experiences. We tried to avoid repetitions and make the descriptions more figurative.

Black swan and Topaz sketches!!

loved them both

It can be both tbh I use it in “matching my level of insanity” too so..

I cannot begin to explain to you the disappointment I felt on finding out that “match my freak” was a sexual thing and not a level of how insane you are with your friends

Yandere!Anaxa x Mage!Reader

The first time he saw you, you were undoing his chains.

His wrists were raw, skin torn from years of iron biting into flesh. His once-proud posture was nothing more than a hunched, broken frame, his long, pale green hair tangled and dull. He had no strength left to fight, only hatred simmering behind the eyes that still refused to yield.

You tended to him with hands far too gentle for someone with your power. You fed him, clothed him, healed him. And when his body recovered, you honed his mind.

"You’re free now" you had told him, but it wasn’t freedom you gave, it was discipline, strength, purpose. You sharpened his survival instincts, refined his combat abilities, ensuring he could stand on his own before releasing him into the world.

At first, he thought you were no different from his past captors, just another powerful figure toying with him under the guise of mercy. But as time passed, your kindness never faltered. You spoke to him, not as a master, not as an owner, but as an equal.

And then, one day, you left.

No farewell, no explanation. You had done your duty, and that was all he was to you. A responsibility. A passing moment in your grand, untouchable life.

He should have forgotten you. But he couldn’t. So he searched.

He followed whispers, traced the echoes of your name through the cities and villages, piecing together the legend that surrounded you. Y/n L/n, the Kingdom’s Respected Mage. Revered, beloved, unmatched in power. People spoke of you in awe, their eyes filled with admiration, their voices dripping with devotion.

It infuriated him. They didn’t deserve you. They hadn’t seen you the way he had.

And yet, you had left him behind to return to them.

His fingers curled into fists, trembling with rage and something far darker. If he wanted you, if he wanted you to be his, he needed to become more.

More than the people who adored you. More than the kingdom that praised you. More than even you yourself.

The roar of the crowd was deafening. The Kingdom’s Grand Arcane Tournament, a competition where only the strongest mages, warriors, and scholars gathered to prove their worth. Victory meant recognition, power, and most importantly… a chance to stand before you.

Anaxa’s lips curled slightly as he adjusted his gloves, ignoring the eyes around him. He wasn’t here for glory. He wasn’t here for the approval of nobles or the admiration of the masses. No, he was here for one reason alone.

To surpass you. And he was close.

The trials had been brutal, designed to eliminate the weak and unworthy. Fire rained from the sky, ice storms threatened to freeze bones solid, illusion magic twisted reality into nightmares. Yet, he endured. He thrived.

Every challenge was a step closer to you.

And then, fate finally brought you before him.

He had been walking through the grand halls of the castle, led by a guard toward the final test, when he saw you.

You moved with effortless grace, your robes flowing like liquid magic, the insignia of the Royal Mage embroidered upon your chest. Power radiated from you, but it was your presence that struck him the hardest.

The way nobles bowed their heads in respect. The way knights stepped aside in silent reverence. The way the very air seemed to hum in response to your existence.

You had grown even more magnificent. More untouchable.

His breath caught as he stepped forward, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.

"Y/n!"

For a fleeting moment, your eyes flickered toward him. And then...nothing. No recognition. No reaction. You walked past him as if he was no more than a stranger, your focus already on your destination.

Anaxa froze.

Something inside him twisted, snapped, burned.

You ignored him? No.... No, no, no. This wasn’t right.

After everything. After all this time.

His fists clenched, his breathing shallow, but before he could move, the guards pushed him forward.

"The final test awaits" one of them grunted, leading him toward the towering gates of the Arcane Trial Grounds.

Anaxa didn’t resist. He let them guide him, but his thoughts never left you. It didn’t matter. Soon, it wouldn’t matter. Because when he won, when he stood above everyone else, you would have to look at him.

The moment Anaxa stepped inside the Tower, the air grew heavier, thick with enchantments woven over centuries. The last trial wasn’t a simple battle...it was a test of mind, body, and soul.

Whispers curled through the halls, illusions flickered at the edges of his vision, phantoms of his past trying to drag him into despair.

He saw chains. Rusted. Bloodied. Binding his wrists once more.

"You will never be free."

A voice sneered from the shadows. His very own voice. The voice of the boy who had once been weak. The boy you had left behind.

Anaxa exhaled slowly, his pink-violet eyes sharpening with cold resolve.

With a flick of his wrist, magic surged through him, and the illusions shattered like glass.

He wasn’t that boy anymore.

And he would prove it.

One step at a time, he climbed. The Tower challenged him with spell after spell, enemy after enemy, but he never faltered. His body ached, his magic burned in his veins, but he kept going.

Until, at last, he reached the highest chamber, the domain of the Royal Mage.

Your domain.

His breath was ragged, his clothes tattered, but a smirk played at his lips as he pushed the grand doors open.

And there you were.

Standing at the center of the grand hall, surrounded by books, scrolls, and floating runes. You turned at the sound of the door creaking open, your eyes meeting his once more.

This time, you didn’t ignore him.

"You pass."

That was all you had said when Anaxa stood before you in the Tower's highest chamber, battle-worn yet victorious. No praise, no warmth, just a simple statement before you handed him his new assignment. He would now serve directly under you, a mage of the Tower, tasked with studying arcane knowledge, assisting with research, and maintaining magical defenses for the kingdom.

But despite his new status, you kept your distance.

You never looked at him for long. You never spoke beyond what was necessary. You never acknowledged the years he had spent chasing after you.

Still, he obeyed. He played the role of the devoted mage, following your every instruction without complaint. If keeping his head down, working tirelessly, and proving his worth was the only way to break through your walls, then so be it. But he pushed himself too far.

It happened late one night. The Tower was quiet, most scholars having retired to their quarters, but Anaxa remained. He sat hunched over an ancient text, his normally immaculate pale green hair disheveled, dark circles forming beneath his eyes.

His fingers trembled as he traced sigils onto parchment. His mind swam, exhaustion clawing at the edges of his consciousness, but he refused to stop.

Just a little more. Just a little longer.

He had to be stronger. Smarter. Worthy.

The ink blurred. His vision swayed.

And then.. his body crumpled forward, knocking over a stack of scrolls as he collapsed onto the cold stone floor.

When he woke, the world was softer.

The unbearable ache in his body remained, but something warm pressed against his forehead- a damp cloth, cooling his fevered skin. His mind was sluggish, his limbs weak, but as he slowly blinked his way back to consciousness, a familiar presence filled his senses.

You. You were there.

His head rested on something—no, someone. Your lap.

Your hands, ones he had longed for, ones that had once freed him now hovered over his chest, weaving delicate healing sigils into the air.

His breath hitched.

“...You’re awake.”

Your voice was as calm as ever, but there was something different this time. A softness, a quiet concern you hadn’t shown him before. Anaxa swallowed hard, unsure if this was reality or some cruel dream.

"You overworked yourself" you said simply, as if scolding a stubborn child. "You need to rest."

He should have answered. Should have thanked you, should have reassured you that he was fine. But his mind was drowning in you. Your scent, your warmth, the way your fingers had just barely brushed against his hair. For the first time in so long, he felt something other than burning obsession. He felt peace.

His lips parted, his voice hoarse. "Stay."

You paused, your fingers stiffening for just a fraction of a second. Then, with the same unreadable expression, you withdrew your hand.

"You need sleep" you repeated, carefully shifting his head off your lap and onto a pillow instead. "I’ll check on you in the morning."

And just like that, the warmth vanished. The door clicked shut behind you. Anaxa stared at the ceiling, his heart pounding, his fists clenching the sheets beneath him.

For a moment, he had hoped.

For a moment, you had been his.

And now, more than ever, he knew he had to make you stay.

Anaxa was always watching. Always waiting.

For your approval. For your attention. For you.

But no matter how much he proved himself, no matter how hard he worked, you remained just out of reach. Close enough to torment him with your presence, but distant enough to remind him that he was still beneath you.

So when whispers of forbidden magic reached his ears, whispers of power that could surpass even yours- he listened.

It started with a single spell. A curse laced into his fingertips, shadowed energy that crackled at his touch. The rush of it, the sheer force, was intoxicating. For the first time, he felt as though he could close the gap between you. But you found out.

The moment you saw the dark magic coiling around his form, your expression darkened, your voice sharper than he had ever heard.

"Are you insane?" You demanded, eyes burning with disappointment. "You know what dark magic does to the mind of people, to the soul. Were you really willing to throw everything away for this?"

He had expected punishment. Maybe even expulsion.

But instead, you chose supervision. From then on, you kept him under your watch, ensuring he didn’t step out of line.

It should have felt like a leash.

But to him? It felt like being caged in your presence. And he loved it.

Under your watchful eye, Anaxa returned to his duties, but the hunger in his heart never faded.

Late at night, when the Tower was silent, he poured over ancient scrolls, searching for something he had never dared to seek before- his past.

And he found it.

His people. His homeland. The ones who had sold him into chains. The weight of it settled in his chest like stone. The hatred, the pain boiled beneath his skin. He couldn’t stay here. Not when the past still breathed. So he did the only thing he could. He ran.

Slipping past the Tower’s wards was difficult, but not impossible. He had memorized every security spell, every blind spot. He knew how to disappear.

But he also knew you would never let him go so easily.

He should have known you were following him.

Every time the road grew dangerous, every time the enemy’s traps were one step ahead of him, something interfered. A spell dissolving a barrier. A blade missing its mark. A shadow moving just out of sight.

By the time he reached his enemies- the cowards who had once controlled his fate, he knew. You had been there the entire time. But it didn’t matter. Not when he stood before the people who had once sold him into slavery. Not when he saw the fear in their eyes. And suddenly… revenge felt meaningless.

They weren’t gods. They weren’t demons. They were just pathetic.

Killing them wouldn’t erase the past. It wouldn’t change anything.

So he turned his back on them.

And when he walked away, he knew you were waiting.

The journey back to the Tower was silent.

You never scolded him. Never demanded answers.

But when you finally reached your chambers, he fell apart.

"Erase it" he whispered, his voice trembling. "Erase everything."

You stiffened. "Anaxa..."

"Please." His eyes were wild, desperate. "If it’s you...if it’s your magic, master...I won’t fight it."

You frowned. "Memories shape the mind. If I remove them, it will change you."

"It’ll be fine if it’s you controlling me."

The words slipped from his lips before he could stop them.

For a long moment, there was silence.

"You need rest" you said softly.

You turned away.

And for the first time, he wished you would just take him. The silence after his plea was unbearable. You didn’t answer him. You didn’t cast the spell he begged for. You simply turned away, as if his pain, his very existence, was just another fleeting moment in your long, untouchable life. And that broke something inside him. Days passed. Then weeks. Anaxa returned to his duties, but he was different now.

He still watched you. Still obeyed you. Still craved you.

But now, there was nothing else left inside him.

The hatred, the grief, the fire that once burned in his veins- gone.

All that remained was you.

You, who had refused to erase him. You, who had refused to free him from his torment. You, who had chosen to let him suffer.

And if you would not take away his pain, then there was only one other path left.

It happened deep in the Tower, beneath layers of wards and forgotten corridors, where only the most forbidden spells were kept.

Anaxa stood before an ancient circle, his fingers tracing over runes that pulsed with dark magic.

If you would not erase his past… If you would not take control of his mind…

Then he would give everything to you himself.

A spell older than time. A binding more powerful than any chains.

A curse that would tie his very soul to yours.

By the time you found him, the ritual was nearly complete.

"Anaxa!" Your voice cut through the chamber, furious and sharp. "Stop this!"

He turned, smiling softly. Finally, finally, you were looking at him.

"I can’t" he murmured. "I don't want to exist without you anymore."

The runes flared to life. Magic crackled around him, the binding beginning to weave itself into his flesh. You moved. Faster than he had ever seen before, you raised your hands, and in an instant, his spell was shattered.

The backlash sent him to his knees, gasping as raw magic burned through his veins. His vision blurred, his breath ragged, but none of it mattered. Because you were standing over him now, your face unreadable, your fingers curling into tight fists.

"You're a fool" you whispered. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

He let out a breathless laugh, his eyes filled with something between devotion and madness.

"I tried to give myself to you" he said. "But I was wrong, wasn't I?"

"You're the only one who can claim me. So do it, master." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Make me yours."

You stared at him.

At the man who had once loathed you. At the boy you had saved. At the monster you had created.

And for the first time, you hesitated.

Because despite everything… you felt it too, didn’t you?

The way he always sought you out. The way he belonged to you, in a way no one else ever had.

Maybe it would be easier if he was only yours. If he never left. If you never had to wonder if he'd disappear into the night, chasing ghosts of a past he could never change. Maybe it would be better if he belonged to you alone.

But in the end, you didn’t say those words.

You only sighed, kneeling beside him, your fingers brushing over his pale hair.

"You’re staying" you murmured. "That much is certain."

His breath hitched.

"But" you continued, your voice turning firm, "I will never take away your mind, your will, your soul."

You tilted his chin up, forcing him to look at you.

"You don’t get to run away from your pain, Anaxa. Not with dark magic, and not through me."

He trembled. He hated this. Hated the way you still held the power, the way you still refused to let him give himself up completely.

But deep down, he knew, he had already lost.

And yet, as he knelt there, drinking in the warmth of your touch, he decided.. that was fine. Because in the end, whether you wanted it or not. He was already yours.