*trying To Say I Like A Fictional Character* Yeah He Activates My Predator Animal Drive

I want to draw naxy but my whole body hurts again just I was about to get up

IM TIRED OF TS💔💔💔💔

end my suffering istg I wanna lay in bed all day doing nothing but NOOOOOOO I have shits to do💔🥀

why is my moot marrying someone I dont know… how do I know this person can treat you right.. They didnt pass the trial..

Im actually in shambles…🥀🥀🥀

@ellaaa505 and I are now married.

this is how we met, cute isn’t it?

Romance time

drew this thinking they'll be having the banners at the same time but no 😔 — anyways i think they'd get along

HAHAHDJSHDJAHDJSH…

💔💔💔💔

angst, 1.2K words, gn!reader, 3.1 quest spoilers

“..I love you,”

“Oh my god are you dying”

Anaxagoras narrows his eyes at your reply to his rather vulnerable confession.

“I take it back.” He mutters with the click of his tongue.

You turn to face him fully, straightening from your hunched position at the unfamiliar wooden desk. The room was a temporary space Aglaea had arranged for you and your husband.

It’d been fourteen days since the devastating fall of the grove.

Luckily your husband was able to save many lives, it came with a cost, a cost that nearly killed him. You hadn’t exactly been thrilled to hear that news—from him of all people—delivered with the same kind of dismissiveness he might use to comment on the weather!

“…I love you too,” you slowly reply

He’s not looking at you now, his gaze is almost avoidant, you note.

Ever since he returned from the grove, something had shifted. He wasn’t hesitant per se—just…more deliberate, Like he was measuring every word before handing it to you

But what made hearing “I love you” from Anaxagoras so strange wasn’t just the words—it was the fact that he literally never said them

He wasn’t an affectionate person. Not physically nor verbally.

—Not that he couldn’t be. But the only times Anaxa ever said those three words were when the two of you had been parted for more time than he liked.

He’s just too emotionally constipated.

Though he’s very good at praise and giving a loving touch when you need it.

You continue to stare down the man sat stiffly on the new bed. It’s odd to see Anaxa being hesitant. Especially around you.

“..You like Ohkema?” He said, taking a quick glance over to you. His forearms rested on his thighs and his fingers clasped together.

You pause, brows creasing. You’re not sure what he’s getting at. “I do, I miss home though,” You answer honestly. You really did miss home, everything was so perfect there. It’s good as gone now though.

“You’d be okay with staying here?”

“I mean there isn’t really anywhere else to go,” you snort

“So if something happened to me, you’d stay here?”

Your brow furrows deeper.

Anaxa’s eyes are locked on the floor, elbows still braced on his knees—but his fingers have tightened, knuckles pale.

“What do you mean ‘if something happened’? What kind of something?” You firmly demand his answer

“Hypothetically,” “Anaxagoras,” “Just answer me,”

You scoff, licking your lips slightly. “Yes I would stay, Anaxa,”

He nods softly, “Good.”

Your knee starts bouncing against the wooden floor. You don’t even notice it at first. You know something’s wrong. You can feel it curling tight inside your stomach.

“You nearly died two weeks ago,” you snap with a chuckle, voice light but bitter. “What, did you find a new way to finish the job?”

Anaxa is silent.

It was a joke.

You swallow hard as his eye finally meet yours—far too steady for your liking.

His expression blank, unreadable—but it tells you everything you never wanted to know.

Your stomach twists.

You slowly begin to shake your head, there’s no way.

“Shut up,” you blurt out“You aren’t funny, shut up,”

“I’m not joking,” he says, finally.

The indifference in his voice claws at you. You shoot up from the chair, the legs screeching harshly against the floor. Your heart pounding so hard you can hear it. “You’re not funny. That’s not funny,” you snap, voice high.

He chews the inside of his cheek, eye following you. A part of him wants to reach for you—hold you, say something that softens the blow. The other part knows there’s nothing he can do. Nothing that will make this easier.

“What—wh—When?!” you stammer, your fingers twitching in the air like you’re trying to grab the answer before it disappears. “When, Anaxa?!”

“In one system hour,”

“Tomorrow?!”

He twiddles his thumbs. “Yes.” And he says it like it’s nothing.

You’re not getting more time. You’re just getting a countdown.

“You’re telling me now?” you rasp, the words scraping out of your throat. “Like this?”

Anaxa’s hands flex slowly, fingers uncurling only to clench again. His jaw is tight. and his lips are sealed.

He doesn’t try to reach for you. doesn’t say your name. You don’t know if you want him too or not.

You shake your head and turn away, the sudden urge to get away overtaking you.

You leave the room, stepping into the ever-bright, empty hall. You speed walk down the path to wherever your feet will take you.

You don’t know where you’re going. You don’t care. You just need to outrun the truth—at least for a little while.

Anaxa sighs.

“You’re not running after them?”

“What good would that do”

Cerces lowered her head in disapproval.

“I didn’t know you were this cowardly. Had I known, perhaps I would’ve thought twice before choosing you.”

Anaxa exhales sharply through his nose, but he doesn’t look up. “Too late for that.”

She sighs. “You couldn’t have given them more time to prepare?” Her gaze flickered over to him.

He leans forward, resting his face in his hands, “I told them now to spare the shock of my execution tomorrow,” he says, voice calm and measured—already having calculated the outcome.

“They’d no doubt interrupt the performance the moment they hear I’d be put to death.” He says lightly, a grin curling softly on his lips.

There’s absolutely no way you’d sit still through that. And he loves you for it.

“And why have my final days be steeped in misplaced mourning?”

Cerces thinks over his words. “What good is early grief? It wouldn’t have stopped anything. Only made the coming days harder.”

She falls quiet for a while, weighing both sides of the tragedy.

“Sweet thing they are,” She murmurs. Anaxa’s expressionless face returns. Cerces glances sidelong at him. “They’ll be alright.”

His gaze drops further. Anaxa nods softly. “Of course they will. They’re not weak,” he says, but quieter now, “they’ll carry on,”

She’s silent, her hands folded over one another as she wanders over to the closed window. “I feel for them,“

“They wouldn’t want your pity,” he replies quietly, his voice rough.

Cerces doesn’t turn back immediately, but her tone softens.

“Not pity. Understanding.”

Anaxa slowly turns the ring adorning his finger, then glances up briefly. “I’ve asked Phainon to watch over them in case anything ever happens to me, he will keep them safe. cared for. Should they ever need anything,”

Cerces doesn’t answer. She just watches as he straightens his posture, the light brushing along the edges of his thin frame.

“You really don’t have much time, Anaxagoras,”

He nods once, then rises up.

“I know.”

And then, without hesitation, he walks out—not toward the person he’d choose in another life, but toward the death he’s already shaken hands with.

A/N: for the love of skibidi toilet if you read this please comment/reblog 🙏 I want positive feedback 💔 I’m like a puppy that needs praise okay 💔 (constructive criticism is fine be nice tho or I’ll block u🫵) MLIST

Nanaxa tag list: @deaddmoth (last paragraph I thought of you n rev writing it lmao) @average-scara-fan <3

omg Thank you💔💔🫂🫂

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

♡⠀ ⠀｡ rentry overlay dump　|　not made by me !

𓎟𓎟  ⠀ likes ╱ reblogs are appreciated 𓏵

anaxa wip💚💫

I need more wind archer x yn bro He deserves to be popular 😭😭😭😭 look at him😭😭😭😭

If it’s not too much to do, can u draw wind archer cookie with y/n cookie please?

I'm brain rotting over deceit legendarys atm

May this world never have need for a D̶̛̛͉͎̋͒̈́̓̈́̓͊̾̎͐̿͐̃ē̴̛̼̥̤̠͍̝͑̊͝l̵̥̺͎̯̼̺̏̍̒̉͗͋͂̍̂͛̍̒̏͝ͅi̶̲̞̖̝̣̍̔̔̏̐̐̎̓̾̊̕̚v̸̨̘͚̹͇̦̠̣͓̑̋̈́̆̀́̇̎̅ȩ̵̛̥̣̱̥̥̖̣̪͕́̈̾̿̓̈́̅̂̍̚ȑ̴̨͈̜̝͍̗̺̯͌̌̀̈́̊̀̕͝ȩ̷̟̱͙͉̝̮̫͕͉̭̰̻́̈́̍̊̐̔̎͛̓ͅř̵̡̈́́͠.̵̧̞͈͉͈̘̻̭̩̞̦̳̪͚̗̈̋͑

heretics will burn at the stake