#camaraderie

[rugbyheaven]

[aventurineswife]

In keeping with Amphoreus’s classical mythology vibes: can we get headcanons for Dan Heng, Phainon, and Castorice with a sorcerer/sorceress!Reader? Like, in general, Reader is a reasonable person, incredibly pleasant and hospitable, even — but if someone was dumb enough to seriously piss them off, Reader might just turn them into a guinea pig or a sprig of mint (like that one time some snobby researcher from the Garden of Life insulted them, and got turned into a dandelion for it). 💀

The Art of Restraint

Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Castorice x Reader, Phainon x Reader, Sorcerer!Reader, Humor, Magic/Spellcasting, Fluff, Angst (light), Power Dynamics, Camaraderie, Lighthearted Revenge.

Warnings: Mild Violence (Transforming people into inanimate objects or plants, though it’s more comedic than harmful), Mild Dark Humor, Mentions of Death, Mild Mentions of Abuse/Insulting Behavior, Mild Language, Complex Power Dynamics.

Dan Heng is cautious by nature, and when he first meets you, he keeps a respectful distance. He’s heard stories of sorcerers and their power, and while he’s not afraid, he’s certainly wary. But after traveling with you for some time, he realizes you’re one of the most level-headed and kind people he’s ever met.

He admires your intellect and meticulous approach to magic. You remind him of a scholar more than a mystic—studious, analytical, and measured. He often listens in quiet fascination when you talk about the ancient laws of sorcery, the flow of energies, or the myths behind different spells.

He once made an offhand comment about disliking mint tea, and you, ever the playful one, asked if he had some deep-seated trauma involving an unfortunate sorcerer’s wrath. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer, which only made you more curious.

The first time he saw you turn someone into a plant, he nearly dropped his spear. Some overly arrogant researcher from the Garden of Life had been sneering at you, calling your magic "a parlor trick compared to true botanical science." With a serene smile, you flicked your fingers—and poof, he was a dandelion.

Dan Heng sighed. "Was that really necessary?" he asked, though there was no real judgment in his tone.

"He’ll turn back in a few hours," you assured him. "And maybe he’ll be a little more polite next time."

Over time, Dan Heng grows to trust you deeply. He appreciates your sense of justice—you never use your powers recklessly, only when absolutely necessary (or when someone’s behavior is so insufferable that even he considers it justified).

If you ever tease him about turning him into a dragon/reptile so he can match his past self, he just gives you a flat look. You swear you see the corner of his mouth twitch.

He’s not much for words, but he does find subtle ways to express his affection—bringing you rare books on ancient magical traditions, making sure you have the finest quality ink and parchment for your spellwork, and standing silently by your side whenever you need backup.

If he ever did get truly angry at someone for harming you, he wouldn’t hesitate to strike. But he’s also completely at peace knowing that, if it came down to it, you could handle things yourself… possibly by turning the threat into a rather unfortunate beetle.

Phainon is delighted to meet you. He has nothing but admiration for sorcerers and scholars, and he finds your magic incredibly cool.

"Oh, you’re a sorcerer? That’s amazing! I’ve read about the ancient schools of magic from Aedes Elysiae, but I’ve never actually worked alongside one before!" He asks about your magic constantly, eager to learn about everything from incantations to alchemical concoctions.

Unlike others who might be wary of your abilities, Phainon has no fear whatsoever. If anything, he enjoys watching you cast spells. He thinks magic is an art, and you are its finest artist.

The first time he sees you turn someone into a plant, he bursts into laughter. Some arrogant noble had insulted you, sneering about "uncivilized sorcery" while flaunting their wealth. You smiled, whispered an incantation, and in an instant—poof. A rather unimpressive sprig of thyme now occupied the noble’s seat.

"You turned them into a herb?" Phainon wheezed. "That’s incredible. Oh, please tell me this is reversible."

"Of course," you chuckled. "Eventually."

Phainon has an endless sense of humor about your power. If someone annoys him, he’ll dramatically throw himself at your feet and beg, "Please, my dearest sorcerer, make them a turnip. I implore you."

You have to remind him that, no, you’re not going to hex every person who mildly inconveniences him.

That said, when things get serious, Phainon deeply respects your power. He knows that magic like yours isn’t just about showmanship—it’s about wisdom, responsibility, and the will to protect. If you ever lose control or doubt yourself, he’s there to remind you of your strength and purpose.

If he ever sees someone trying to intimidate or harm you, his usual cheerful demeanor vanishes. He stands at your side, hand on his claymore, exuding an unshakable confidence that tells your enemies they’re severely outmatched.

He likes to joke that if you ever got tired of vanquishing Titans, you could make a fortune turning criminals into decorative houseplants. "Imagine it: ‘Sorcerer’s Justice—Transformations While You Wait!’ It’d be a hit."

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help but laugh.

Castorice is fascinated by you. As someone who communes with death and the divine, she sees sorcery as a sibling discipline to her own craft. Magic, after all, is just another means of understanding the mysteries of the world.

She appreciates your sense of reason and restraint—after all, power must be wielded wisely. When she sees how pleasant and diplomatic you are, she feels a kinship with you; like her, you possess strength but do not flaunt it.

The first time she witnesses you turn someone into a dandelion, she simply hums in approval. "A fitting fate," she murmurs. "There are worse things than being scattered by the wind."

Unlike Phainon, who finds your transformations hilarious, Castorice finds them poetic. She even starts a collection of pressed flowers and leaves from the unfortunate souls who cross you. ("This one was particularly rude," she muses, tucking a preserved violet into her journal.)

Despite her quiet, ethereal nature, she enjoys your company. The two of you often spend time in silence, working side by side—she preparing rites and funerary charms, you transcribing spells and crafting new incantations.

You’re one of the few people who can read her moods easily. While others find her difficult to read, you notice the subtle shifts in her aura, the tiny hesitations in her voice.

She’s endlessly intrigued by your magic. "The gods gifted you with power," she says one evening, her lavender eyes watching you closely. "Do you ever wonder what price they will demand in return?"

If anyone threatens you, Castorice is merciless. Not in the way Phainon or Dan Heng would be—she doesn’t shout or draw her weapon. Instead, she steps forward with the eerie grace of a specter, her scythe glinting under the moonlight. "You should leave," she whispers, voice like a funeral prayer. "Before they decide what to do with you."

She never asks you to use your powers for petty revenge, but if she ever sees you hesitate to defend yourself, she will remind you in no uncertain terms: "Your power is not a crime. Do not let the unworthy make you feel otherwise."

Over time, the two of you develop a quiet but profound bond—two people standing between the mortal and the divine, wielding power with wisdom, bound by an unspoken understanding.

[19silvermirrors]

Old acquaintances finally meeting to enjoy the full moon together 🌕

[manytoonepoet]

Oh, Deliverer, divine body with golden blood.

The Deliverer was appointed a task that he once believed he was ready to conquer, but now doubts whether he truly has both the heart and the sword to slay the darkest shadows that were cast by his bright light. He was born in a field of golden wheat and blue skies. He was nurtured in the arms of a village. He was inspired by the sword of a comrade and a dear friend, by the praise and the taunts of his allies and foes.

He was given life by a dream of endless celebrations and festivities. A dream of endless gaiety elicited by the children of the land who see him, not as a distant warrior to be revered, but as an older brother, perhaps even a friend, the best one, at that. A dream of endless sparring, ribbing with a brother in arms, strengthening the bond that was created in war and bloodshed with the peace that now surrounds them, laughing as the sun’s warmth caresses their skin.

But instead of living with such dreams, he is surrounded by wishes of normalcy, wishes that should’ve come true under normal circumstances. He is surrounded by the sight and scent of his beloved allies’ blood, mourning as they are taken away from him one by one, but even then, mourning is a wish much too great to be granted, for time is of the essence, and paying respect to his fallen companions have to wait until they are akin to the Earth beneath his feet. Oh, Deliverer, divine body with golden blood, must you break apart for the world to be complete? Must the sun be blotted in red to give way to the soothing blue and comforting yellow of a bright, sunny day? Does such include your eyes, your tears, Deliverer? Must they see red as well before they may see peace? It seems so. It is so.

…

“They say, if suffering has an end… Then I will be the Deliverer. If this is not the end, then I will keep walking until I witness the end of this journey, but I will never submit to this idea of fate.

Never.”

… Oh, Deliver, divine body with golden blood. May this world never again need a Deliverer. May you never be a prisoner of the flames that lit your passion any longer.

[j3lly-shark]

Ao'nung "If you want to live here, you have to ride" te Tsika'u Tonowari'itan

Neteyam "Oh, I will give you something to ride alright" te Suli Tsyeyk’itant

‧₊˚𓇼𝒩𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓊𝓃𝑔࿐࿔* | 03 / ∞

[thepastisalreadywritten]

[spartansinlove]