Haha None Of My Moots Are Ready For What I Will Pull Out Of My Ahh For Revexa

ANAXA CONTENT💥💥💥

Idk who the other two is, meymen and phrank

Anatomy Of A Hug

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ft. Phainon, Mydei, Anaxa

Heads Up : Soft Yandere themes, Anaxa needs to see a therapist, Written before version 3.1, My Delusions I guess. I merely missed them a lot and decided to write something silly quickly orz.

-; ੈ♡˳ PHAINON

In the simplest terms, Phainon hugs with his everything. He's not shy to initiate skin-contact, will press himself to you accordingly — unless you voice out discomfort. He's diligent in wrapping his arms around your person securely, should you fancy melting in the bliss he offers. Though, his dexterity with hugs was honed through practice. In the beginning, the strength of a seasoned warrior had been more prevalent. A good amount of discussion (read: pleading to breathe) and experimentation snapped him out of the rush of pleasantries and reminded him of how precious a person he was dealing with.

Front hugs, back hugs, side hugs, bear hugs — he's okay with whatever you're comfortable with. His personal preference is going through all kinds of hugs he knows of manually ; first to shield you from all the evil that preys on your vulnerability, then scooping you up from the pull of gravity, a hearty squeeze to assure you of his protection, followed by a thrilling spin that will repel all bad thoughts out of your orbit. Until all the vestiges of weariness and stress have been replaced clean with the smiles he so adores.

Phainon is not one to be satisfied with short exchanges of warmth, the duration of these hugs tend to be quite long — or, as long as he can get away with before he has to commit to a Hero's responsibilities. Just as he initiates hugs with all of his soul, he expects the same when it comes to receiving them. Phainon prefers to be coddled, held with a promise of protection, ironically. Allow him to kneel and bring him close to your heart, weave your fingers through his hair, soothe the tension in his shoulders and he'll abandon the Flame-Chase altogether.

It's impossible to stir him in those moments, unless your safety happened to be at stake. As such, it's best for you to bid farewell to any other plans. Once he has memorized the nature of this exchange well, he goes beyond and utilizes it to deal with other nuisances. You cannot blame him, not when it has been proven that distracting you with a hug deters both the interference and yourself from paying heed to a mere passer-by. Sometimes his hug offers a bit less comfort and appears more as a shackle. Should you think to point this out, bear this in mind — your embrace is the last thread keeping his sanity intact.

-; ੈ♡˳ MYDEI

You must not care for your life at all, or at least, that's the thought Mydei found himself having when he was faced with the gesture. While the Crown Prince was not ignorant of the existence of a hug, he merely never had the opportunity to be properly acquainted with it. Not that it was necessary to know of it either, he can't win battles by hugging his opponents now, can he? As such, his reaction had been quite the spectacle when you initiated it. Begin by asking if he'd like a hug (throw in a ‘my prince’ at the end, sweetly), if his expression doesn't change then that means a ‘yes’, approach him calmly and wrap your arms around him next — be patient, he'll eventually reciprocate, given that you read the cues right.

If Mydei has to express affection, he'll do so in his own ways. It's already enough of an inconvenience that whenever he thinks of you, his head becomes blurred with clouds of emotions he's unable to decipher. That mushy sensation he feels inside whenever you have the audacity to hug him is just unfiltered agony to his mind. The journey to getting him less repulsed to the gesture has to be fueled by patience and understanding. Only when it clicks in his head that the feelings your hugs incite are not so dissimilar from the ones he gets by indulging in a plate of golden honeycakes does he warm up to the gesture.

Even then, Mydei is very particular about his preferences. Wave goodbye to the dream of spooning the prince any time soon, he's made it clear that that privilege is reserved for him alone. He'll always pull your head towards his chest and headlock you in place. If it's not possible to do so while standing, he'll sit down and gather you on his lap even — but he'll never allow his field of vision to be obstructed. Allowing this already renders you both vulnerable to attacks, he'll reason. He needs to remain vigilant, for the sake of your safety ; not that he'll translate the intention word by word.

Despite your efforts, you've discovered that ridding the prince of his stiffness is near-impossible, even if it's in private. His is not a life that's seen much comfort. Pay attention to the minute shifts in his eyes and you'll realize that the actual reason for his stilted posture, is because of the restraint he's exercising in unleashing his strength. It is a valid concern, he won't even need both of his hands to kill you. Death has rejected him countless times but awaits your departure in anticipation, he's merely mindful of its preying gaze.

-; ੈ♡˳ ANAXA

You are one fearless fellow if you initiated a hug with Anaxa, or you simply don't care about the fact that he's renowned as the scholar who most people are happy to avoid. The scholar in question would most likely call you an idiot though, you really need a thorough lesson in deciphering which men you must never approach. Not that he will be giving it, his time and energy are not to be wasted on such trivial concerns. Although he won't deny, with this brazen act, you've proven yourself to be a bit above the notion of ‘trivial’.

You think approaching the scholar is not so different from trying to befriend a cat, failure in the beginning is inevitable — only through persistence can you triumph. It's a task alone to try to acquaint yourself with him, getting him accustomed to physical affection might just be an acid test. The scholar has had no need for a rudimentary touch of another's skin, he'll say with a dignified hiss. But if you're observant, you'd know it's just a ruse to hide the depth of the depravation he's not allowing himself to acknowledge.

After much trial and error, when he finally bends to your efforts and accepts a hug, he's stiff and awkward, unsurprisingly. His hands wander as if settling on one place would burn his skin, face firmly hidden in the crook of your neck in what you can only assume is embarrassment. You would've teased him about the fierce flush on his ears and nape, if he hadn't ended the contact upon realizing his behavior. The scholar didn't dare face you for the next week, reflecting upon the incident vigorously.

Initially, his hugs were short, filled with muttered complaints to distract you from the firmness of his grip. The increasing average duration and his waning unwillingness towards the gesture did not go unnoticed by him at all. He knows the basic biological cause and it served as his rationale for quite a while. Yes, the reward system's activities are all there is to it, surely he possesses enough willpower to end this indulgence any time he wishes.

What he didn't anticipate though was you beating him to it, baffling him with your sudden consideration for his personal space. You are cruelty incarnate, conditioning him to this banal addiction and leaving him to deal with the consequences by himself? Now that is one preposterous claim to marvel at. It's wise if you cease pushing the man and retract your words. And if you don't? You're more than welcomed to repeat your jest at the firing point of his gun.

💥💥

I love the way this is written my god

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.

If I get early E1 Anaxa I’ll write revexa oneshot 🙏

a writing competition i was going to participate in again this year has announced that they now allow AI generated content to be submitted

their reasoning being that "we couldn't ban it even if we wanted to, every writer already uses it anyway"

"Every writer"?

come on

me w/Anaxa probably

i love seeing selfshippers with their "one" f/o. like, they are their brand! and their love is so palpable from the way they talk about them on their blog. don't stop gushing because i love to see it!

I’m going to perform medical malpractice on you cuz I love you

on everybody’s soul I swear it wasnt my fault.

before i go to bed, i just want say to the public…

I WILL get anaxa pregnant.

good night 😸

lmfao @sweet-comatose

At least Anaxa doesnt have any ship treated as canon since they pass him around like blunt but.. cant say the same about your bf..

People who ship to a character who has no technical canon ship, but with a ship that the fandom treats as obvious and canon, are braver than any us marine

he’s such a hear me out idc I want him

VALENCRINGE

Lazy rushed entry for the Valencringe contest!! I need those rainbow cubes... STAT!!! Truthless Recluse and matching Shadow Milk costume when I get you. Ohh when I get you WHEN I

Once you get over that initial phase of denial and unpack everything, being aro is really chill