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moonselune · 3 days ago

Note

Hello! Hope all is well with you! I've been enjoying the sillier prompts lately and have been wondering for a while now about the companions' reactions to a wild-magic sorcerer Tav accidentally turning themselves into a potted plant, as can happen in actual dnd. This might be in combat, out of combat, or when no one's around to see until they realize Tav is missing and there's a new, Tav-sized plant at camp. Thanks for considering!

Ahahahaha I didn't know this because fun fact I have never played as a wild-magic sorcerer, the more you know

Karlach:

The chaos of battle still hung thick in the air: the acrid tang of ozone from lightning spells, the metallic bite of blood, and the charred aroma of scorched earth. Karlach stood amidst the wreckage, her infernal engine humming faintly as the adrenaline of combat began to ebb. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she turned to look for you, her fiery grin ready to celebrate another victory with her partner.

Only, you were nowhere to be seen.

“Babe?” she called, her voice carrying over the clatter of armor and groans of the fallen. She scanned the battlefield, her sharp eyes darting between the bodies of your enemies. Her smile faltered. “Where the hells are you?”

It wasn’t like you to wander off mid-battle, even with the unpredictable nature of your wild magic. A sinking feeling settled in her gut, and she began to search, calling your name louder now.

Her gaze finally fell on a peculiar sight near the edge of the clearing—a potted plant. It was vibrant and oddly you-sized, perched precariously on the remnants of a crumbled wall. Karlach’s brows furrowed, her hands on her hips as she stared at it.

“What the…?” she muttered, stepping closer. There was something strangely familiar about the plant. Its broad leaves almost seemed to droop in a manner reminiscent of your slouch when you were feeling bashful, and the faint glow of magic that lingered around it screamed wild surge.

Her eyes widened as realization struck her like a bolt of lightning. “No way. No way.”

Dropping to a crouch in front of the plant, she inspected it closer.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” she whispered, reaching out to touch one of the leaves gently. It was warm, and she swore she could feel your presence within it. “Babe, is that you?”

The plant didn’t respond, of course, but Karlach groaned and dropped her head into her hands.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” she lamented, her voice muffled. “You go and turn yourself into a bloody plant? In the middle of a fight?”

She glanced over her shoulder to ensure the rest of the group was still occupied. No one had noticed your absence yet, and for that she was grateful. She wasn’t sure she could handle the jokes from Astarion or the endless concern from Gale right now. This was between you and her, dammit.

Sighing, she scooped the pot into her arms, holding it like she would hold you.

“Alright, love,” she said, her tone softening despite herself. “Let’s get you back to camp and figure out how to fix this, yeah?”

The trek back was… awkward. Karlach tried to hold the pot steady while simultaneously glancing around to ensure no one saw her cradling a plant like it was her most prized possession. She muttered under her breath as she went, half scolding you and half laughing at the absurdity of it all.

“Of all the things you could’ve turned into,” she grumbled. “Why not something cool, like a dragon? Or even a chair! I could’ve used you for a rest at least.” She looked down at the plant with a rueful grin. “But no, you had to go and be adorable even as a damn fern.”

By the time she reached camp, the rest of the party had begun to notice your absence. Shadowheart raised a questioning eyebrow as Karlach marched straight to your tent, the plant held tightly in her arms.

“Where’s—” Shadowheart began, but Karlach cut her off with a gruff, “Don’t ask,” before disappearing inside.

Once safely tucked away in the privacy of your shared space, Karlach set the pot down gently and sat cross-legged in front of it.

“Okay, love,” she said, her tone serious now. “I’m not exactly a magic expert, so I’m guessing this’ll wear off on its own, yeah? Just, uh… shake a leaf or something if I’m right.”

Nothing happened. She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck.

“Figures. You’d turn yourself into something that can’t talk back.” She reached out to stroke one of your leaves again, her touch tender. “I just hope you’re okay in there. You’re not, like, panicking, are you? ‘Cause I’m here, alright? I’ve got you.”

The hours ticked by, and Karlach stayed by your side, talking to you about everything and nothing. She recounted old stories of her time in Avernus, described the way the campfire crackled just outside, and even hummed a few bars of a tune you loved. She refused to leave, determined to be there the moment you returned to your usual self.

When the magic finally dissipated, it was abrupt. One moment, she was staring at the plant, and the next, you were sitting on the floor in front of her, looking disoriented but otherwise unharmed. Karlach blinked, then burst into relieved laughter.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around you in a rib-crushing hug before you could even fully process what had happened. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, you hear?”

You groaned, your voice muffled against her shoulder. “Wasn’t exactly intentional,” you muttered, but the warmth in her embrace made it hard to feel anything but gratitude.

Karlach pulled back just enough to cup your face in her hands, her grin brighter than the campfire.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she said, her voice teasing but her eyes soft. “Even if you do have a habit of turning into houseplants.”

You chuckled weakly, leaning into her touch. “I’ll try to aim for something cooler next time.”

“Damn right, you will,” Karlach said, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “But for now, you’re staying right here. No more wild magic shenanigans until I’m convinced you won’t turn into a cactus or something.”

Minthara:

The camp was eerily quiet when Minthara returned from scouting the perimeter, her steps as measured and deliberate as ever. She had left you behind, trusting that whatever magical experiment had your attention at the moment was at least minimally controlled. You had assured her you would remain safe.

But as she entered the camp, her sharp eyes immediately swept the area—and you were nowhere to be found. A frown tugged at her lips, irritation brimming beneath her calm exterior.

“My love?” she called out, her voice low but commanding. There was no reply, only the faint rustling of wind through the trees.

Something was wrong.

Minthara’s grip on her weapon tightened instinctively as she strode toward your usual spot near the campfire. Her keen senses caught the faint trace of magic lingering in the air—chaotic, unpredictable magic. It clung to the clearing like a haze, setting her teeth on edge.

And then she saw it.

A potted plant, sitting innocently in the middle of camp. It was a strikingly odd sight—vibrant, lush, and entirely out of place. Minthara’s frown deepened as she approached, her eyes narrowing. Something about it felt… familiar. She knelt beside it, her fingers brushing one of the broad, leafy fronds.

Her instincts screamed at her, the strange magic and the peculiar timing sparking a suspicion she couldn’t shake.

"No," she muttered under her breath, her voice laced with disbelief and annoyance. "Surely not."

She circled the pot, scrutinizing it from every angle, her sharp mind piecing together what must have happened. The chaotic magic. Your absence. The plant’s unnerving resemblance to your height, even its oddly charming tilt to one side.

“By the Underdark” she growled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’ve turned yourself into a gods-damned plant.”

Minthara rose to her full height, her expression a mixture of exasperation and begrudging amusement. She paced back and forth for a moment, muttering to herself in clipped Drow. This wasn’t her first encounter with wild magic’s unpredictability, but seeing you reduced to foliage tested even her patience.

Finally, she stopped, crossing her arms as she glared down at the plant.

“You’d best hope this is reversible,” she said, her tone sharp but carrying a strange undercurrent of affection. “Otherwise, I’ll be forced to carry you into battle as a decorative shrub.”

The plant, of course, did not respond.

Minthara sighed deeply, a rare crack in her stoic demeanor. She crouched down again, this time with a softer touch, her fingers trailing over the edge of the pot.

“You do realize how much you worry me?” she murmured, her voice quiet now. “Vanishing without warning, leaving me to find… this.” Her lips twitched into the faintest smirk. “You’re lucky I’m fond of you, even when you’re at your most absurd.”

She lingered there for a moment, her crimson eyes studying the plant as though willing you to transform back through sheer force of will. Her mind raced with possible solutions—waiting for the magic to dissipate, seeking assistance from one of the more magically inclined companions, or even attempting to force the issue with a spell of her own. But none of those options sat well with her; the thought of leaving you in this state for even a moment longer than necessary gnawed at her resolve.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the camp, the chaotic magic finally began to wane. A sudden burst of energy rippled through the air, and in an instant, the plant vanished—replaced by you, sitting awkwardly on the ground with wide eyes and a dazed expression.

“Minthara?” you said weakly, blinking up at her.

Her expression was unreadable as she loomed over you, her arms crossed once more. For a moment, she said nothing, letting the weight of her presence—and her silence—sink in. Then, with a sharp exhale, she extended a hand to help you up.

“You are a constant test of my patience,” she said, her tone icy but her touch firm and steady as she pulled you to your feet. “And yet, I cannot seem to stay angry with you.”

You rubbed the back of your neck, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips.

“Sorry about that,” you said, glancing at the now-empty spot where the plant had been. “Didn’t mean to… you know. Turn into a houseplant.”

Minthara rolled her eyes but allowed a small smirk to break through her stern façade.

“I suppose it’s a testament to your unique charm,” she said dryly. “Only you could find a way to make even wild magic this ridiculous.”

Her hand lingered on yours for a moment longer than necessary, her gaze softening as she studied you.

“Do try not to disappear on me again,” she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’ve grown quite accustomed to having you by my side… in a form that can actually hold a weapon.”

You chuckled, the sound warm and full of relief. “I’ll do my best.”

Minthara shook her head, a quiet laugh escaping her lips despite herself. “See that you do. Now, come. You owe me a drink to make up for this nonsense.”

She turned sharply, striding toward the campfire with her usual commanding grace. But as you followed, you caught the faintest trace of a smile lingering on her lip.

Lae'zel:

Lae'zel stood amidst the aftermath of the battle, her chest heaving as she wiped a smear of blood from her cheek with the back of her hand. The final enemy had fallen beneath her blade, and the battlefield was silent save for the distant rustle of the wind through the trees. She turned sharply, her yellow eyes scanning the clearing for you, her battle partner and—more recently—her lover.

“Y/N” she barked, her voice firm as always, tinged with the expectation of a swift response. When none came, her brow furrowed. She swept her gaze over the terrain, spotting the bodies of your foes… but no sign of you.

Her grip on her blade tightened as unease prickled at the edges of her thoughts.

“Where are you?” she muttered, you had a habit of getting into trouble, especially with the erratic nature of your magic. This silence was unsettling.

It was then that her gaze landed on something odd—a potted plant, sitting upright amidst the debris and gore of battle. It was an odd sight, pristine and bright green in stark contrast to the carnage around it. Lae’zel’s frown deepened as she stalked over to it, her boots crunching on the ground. Something about the plant felt… familiar.

She stopped before it, staring down at its leaves. It was unusually large, roughly your height if she imagined it upright. The pot itself bore faint traces of magic that made her lip curl in suspicion.

“Ridiculous,” she growled. And yet, the chaotic nature of your magic whispered a possibility in her mind—a possibility so absurd she dismissed it outright. At first.

Then, she leaned down and poked the plant with her gauntleted finger.

The moment her finger brushed a leaf, a faint magical hum radiated from it, and Lae’zel’s eyes widened. Her sharp mind pieced together the evidence: your absence, the lingering magic, and the absurdity of a random plant appearing on a battlefield. She drew back with a look that was half exasperation, half incredulous disbelief.

“You have done this to yourself, haven’t you?” she demanded, glaring at the plant as though it could answer her. “Wild magic,” she hissed, her voice dripping with disdain. “You reckless fool.”

She straightened, planting her hands on her hips, her blade still dripping with the blood of her enemies. For a moment, she considered leaving you as you were, just long enough to impress upon you the consequences of your chaos. But the thought was fleeting, quickly overtaken by the frustration that you were not by her side in a form she could lecture properly.

Lae’zel crouched again, this time with a softer expression, though she still scowled.

“If you can hear me, you will fix this yourself,” she said firmly. “I have no intention of hauling a houseplant back to camp.”

The plant, of course, did not respond.

“Ugh.” Lae’zel threw her head back, muttering something sharp and guttural in Gith, likely a curse aimed at the unpredictability of magic. Despite her frustration, she carefully scooped the pot into her arms, grumbling under her breath as she did so. The weight was awkward but manageable.

She began the trek back to camp, her movements brisk and efficient despite the absurd cargo in her arms. Along the way, she muttered a constant stream of words, alternating between irritation and reluctant concern.

“You are fortunate I value you, even when you test my patience,” she said, glancing down at the plant. “Were you anyone else, I would leave you here to rot.”

When she reached camp, the sight of Lae’zel carrying a potted plant drew immediate attention. Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, Astarion stifled a laugh, and Gale opened his mouth to ask a question—only to receive a sharp glare that silenced him on the spot.

“Not a word,” Lae’zel snapped, setting the plant down beside the fire with a little more force than necessary. She pointed a finger at the pot as if addressing you directly. “You will undo this foolishness. Now.”

By sheer coincidence, the chaotic magic finally dissipated, a sudden burst of energy shook the camp, and you appeared where the plant had been—sitting awkwardly on the ground, blinking in confusion.

“Lae’zel?” you said, your voice tentative. She towered over you, arms crossed and glaring fiercely.

“You turned yourself into a plant,” she stated, her tone flat but laced with unmistakable annoyance.

“Uh… yeah,” you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. “I guess I did.”

Lae’zel stared at you for a long moment, her lips pressed into a thin line. Then, without warning, she grabbed your arm and hauled you to your feet.

“You are an utter fool,” she said, her voice harsh, but there was a flicker of relief in her eyes. “And you will explain how this happened—after you swear to me it will not happen again.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her intensity, even as you stammered out an apology.

“I’ll try,” you said, earning an unimpressed snort from her.

“‘Try’ is insufficient,” she snapped, but there was no real heat in her words. She studied you for a moment longer before pulling you into a surprisingly firm embrace, her grip strong but steady. “Do not make me worry for you again.”

The rare softness in her voice made your heart swell, and you nodded against her shoulder. “I’ll do my best.”

Shadowheart:

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting the camp in a soft, dusky glow. Shadowheart returned from gathering water at the nearby stream, her steps light but deliberate as she moved toward the campfire. Dinner was her next priority, and after that, a quiet evening spent in your company. Or so she thought.

As she reached the camp, a strange sight stopped her in her tracks. Sitting near the fire, where she expected to find you lounging or reading, was… a potted plant.

Shadowheart blinked, her brow furrowing. The pot was large, almost comically so, and the plant itself had an odd, almost lively vibrance to it. Its fronds swayed gently in the evening breeze, and its size was distinctly you-shaped.

She set the water down and took a few tentative steps closer, her dark eyes narrowing as she examined the plant. Her fingers brushed one of the leaves, and a faint shimmer of magic danced across its surface. Recognition hit her like a gale-force wind, and she straightened up abruptly, staring at the plant in stunned silence.

And then she started laughing.

The sound was soft at first, a quiet chuckle bubbling up from her chest. But it quickly grew louder, filling the camp as she doubled over, one hand braced on her knee and the other clutching her stomach.

“Oh, gods,” she wheezed, barely able to get the words out. “You’ve done it now, haven’t you?”

She staggered back a step, trying to compose herself, but the sight of the potted plant sitting innocently near the fire broke her resolve. She collapsed onto a nearby log, her laughter ringing through the clearing.

“You—you turned yourself into a plant!” she exclaimed, her voice cracking with mirth. “How? Why? What—what were you even doing?”

The plant, of course, did not respond. Its fronds merely swayed as if in agreement, which only made Shadowheart laugh harder. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she leaned forward, shaking her head in disbelief.

“You’ve outdone yourself this time,” she managed to say between gasps. “I didn’t think wild magic could be this ridiculous.”

For several minutes, she simply sat there, caught in a loop of laughter and attempts to calm herself. Every time she thought she had control, she’d glance at the plant again, and another wave of giggles would take her.

Eventually, she wiped her eyes and let out a long, shaky sigh.

“Alright, alright,” she muttered to herself, still grinning. “I suppose I should figure out how to fix this before someone else sees you like this.”

But instead of moving immediately to find a solution, she reached out and gently patted the pot, her touch oddly tender.

“You’re lucky I find you endearing,” she said, her voice soft with affection. “Even when you’re… this.”

She sat there for a while longer, her smile lingering as she studied the plant. The absurdity of the situation didn’t erase her fondness; if anything, it deepened it. You were chaotic, unpredictable, and utterly unique, and somehow, she adored every bit of it.

When the magic finally began to fade, the plant shimmered and morphed, and in a flash of light, you were sitting on the ground, blinking up at her with a sheepish grin.

“Uh… hey,” you said awkwardly, scratching the back of your neck. “Miss me?”

Shadowheart burst out laughing again, leaning back on the log as she shook her head.

“Oh, my love,” she said, her voice full of amusement and exasperation. “You never fail to surprise me.”

She stood and offered you her hand, pulling you to your feet with a smirk. “I’ll admit, I was tempted to leave you like that for a while longer. You made a rather charming plant.”

You groaned, your face heating. “Please don’t tell the others.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said with mock sincerity, though the mischievous glint in her eyes suggested otherwise. “But you might owe me a favor or two to ensure my silence.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling as she leaned in closer, her expression softening. “Just promise me you’ll try not to turn yourself into anything else for a while,” she said, her voice quiet but warm. “I’d rather have you by my side.”

You nodded, and Shadowheart’s smirk widened as she pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “Good. Now, let’s get some dinner before you accidentally polymorph into a roast chicken or something.”

With a laugh, she led you toward the fire, her hand slipping into yours. Even as the evening went on, she couldn’t help but glance at you now and then, a smile tugging at her lips as she remembered the absurdity of the situation.

Jaheira:

Jaheira had seen many strange and inexplicable things in her long life. She had battled liches, shaped the natural world, and lived through countless adventures that would leave lesser individuals trembling. But when she returned to camp after a morning spent tending to her druidic rituals, she did not expect to find a potted plant sitting conspicuously near the fire, in precisely the spot you usually occupied.

She froze, her keen eyes narrowing as she took in the odd sight. The plant was unusually large and vibrant, its leaves swaying gently despite the still air. Jaheira’s lips pressed into a thin line as a nagging suspicion bloomed in the back of her mind.

“Beloved?” she called out sharply, her gaze darting around the camp for any sign of you. The woods were silent save for the rustle of leaves, and there was no reply. Her frown deepened as she crouched beside the plant, reaching out to touch one of its leaves. The faint shimmer of residual magic confirmed her worst fear.

“By the gods…” she muttered, rubbing her temples. “Of course.”

Jaheira sank onto a nearby log, her expression shifting from incredulity to sheer exasperation.

“I leave you alone for one morning,” she said aloud, as if addressing the plant. “One morning, and this is what you manage to accomplish?”

The plant offered no response, its fronds swaying innocently. Jaheira leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she regarded it with a mix of frustration and reluctant fondness.

“Wild magic,” she said, her tone dripping with disdain. “I warned you, did I not? I told you to focus, to keep your chaos in check. But no, of course not. That would be too simple.”

She let out a long, weary sigh and leaned back, crossing her arms.

“What am I to do with you?” she muttered, shaking her head. “I cannot even lecture you properly in this state.”

Her gaze softened slightly as she studied the plant, her exasperation giving way to quiet concern. Despite her irritation, there was a tenderness in her expression—a deep-seated care that she could never fully mask.

“You are lucky I care for you, you ridiculous creature,” she said softly. “Otherwise, I might have left you here to contemplate your folly for a few days.”

Jaheira stood and began pacing, her sharp mind already working through possible solutions. She muttered to herself as she moved, alternating between frustration and practicality.

“Undoing wild magic,” she said, glancing at the plant. “An unpredictable mess, as always. I ought to leave you for Gale to sort out—he would likely enjoy the challenge. But no, no. This is our problem.”

She stopped pacing and returned to the plant, placing her hands on her hips. “If you can hear me, beloved, know this: when you return to your proper form, you will owe me twice over. For this, and for the worry you’ve caused.”

As if in response, the plant shimmered faintly, and Jaheira arched an eyebrow.

“Good,” she said, nodding. “Perhaps there is still some sense left in you.”

Moments later, the magic dissipated with a faint burst of energy, and you were suddenly sitting on the ground, dazed but otherwise unharmed. You looked up at Jaheira, blinking in confusion as you tried to process what had happened.

“Jaheira?” you said tentatively, your voice hesitant. “What—”

She held up a hand to silence you, her expression equal parts stern and amused.

“Do not speak,” she said firmly. “Not yet. First, you will listen.”

You nodded quickly, sensing the gravity of her tone. Jaheira crouched beside you, her sharp eyes locking onto yours.

“You will explain to me, in great detail, what foolishness led to this,” she said. “And you will swear to me that you will exercise more caution in the future. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my beloved,” you said meekly, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

She studied you for a long moment, her gaze softening as she saw the genuine contrition in your expression. With a small sigh, she reached out and cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“You are fortunate I adore you” she said quietly, her tone laced with affection despite her stern words. “But you test my patience, beloved. Try not to make a habit of it.”

“I promise to try and not do it more than usual,” you promised with a cheeky smile, earning a faint smile from her.

“That's all I can ask for,” she said, rising to her feet and offering you her hand. “Now, come. There is work to be done, and I will not allow you to shirk your duties just because you decided to play at being a houseplant.”

You laughed softly, taking her hand and letting her pull you to your feet. As you walked together toward the campfire, Jaheira shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

“A potted plant,” she muttered. “What will you manage next, I wonder? A flock of chickens? A living puddle?”

Despite her exasperation, there was a warmth in her voice that made your heart swell. You knew you were lucky to have her by your side—someone who could scold you one moment and hold you close the next.

Gale:

The sun had dipped low, casting the camp in soft, golden hues as Gale returned from a short stroll. He was humming a soft melody under his breath, a habit when he felt particularly at ease. However, his contentment was short-lived.

As he reached the campfire, he froze. His gaze fell on a peculiar sight: a massive, lush potted plant sitting exactly where you would typically be, its leaves trembling faintly as if caught in an unseen breeze. Gale’s sharp mind immediately pieced together the absurd possibility.

He stepped closer, squinting at the plant.

“My love?” he called tentatively, his tone a mix of disbelief and concern.

The plant, predictably, gave no reply. Gale knelt down, his hands hovering over the vibrant leaves as his brow furrowed.

“No. Surely not…” He reached out, his fingers brushing the leaves. A faint magical hum tickled his fingertips, confirming his suspicions. He sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’ve done it again, haven’t you? Wild magic… unpredictable as ever. Now what are you today? A ficus?” He tilted his head, examining the pot. “No, perhaps a monstera. Lovely choice, truly.”

His amusement was short-lived, replaced by determination as he straightened his back.

“No matter,” he said firmly. “We’ll have you back to yourself in no time. After all, what is a little magical mishap to someone like me?”

He moved swiftly, summoning his arcane focus. Arcane energy swirled around his fingers as he murmured incantations, his tone confident. A brilliant light enveloped the plant, the air around it crackling with energy. But as quickly as it had begun, the magic dissipated, leaving the plant unchanged.

Gale frowned, his brow furrowing deeper.

“That should have worked.” He muttered another incantation, this one more complex. Again, the air shimmered, and again, nothing happened.

Minutes turned into an hour as Gale tried every spell and counterspell he could think of. Each attempt left him more frustrated, his usually calm demeanor cracking. By the end, he was slumped on the ground beside the plant, his elbows resting on his knees as he gazed at it with a mix of exhaustion and defeat.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice heavy with guilt. “I thought I could undo this easily, but… I’ve failed you.” He reached out, his fingers brushing the rim of the pot. “You must be frightened, or bored, or both. And here I am, a so-called wizard of no small renown, completely stumped.”

As if in response to his heartfelt apology, a faint shimmer enveloped the plant. Gale sat up straight, his eyes wide as the glow grew brighter. With a soft poof, the plant vanished, and there you were, sitting cross-legged on the ground, blinking up at him.

“Gale?” you said groggily, your voice laced with confusion. “What… happened?”

His mouth opened and closed a few times before he let out a disbelieving laugh.

“You just… changed back?” he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. “Just like that?”

You nodded, stretching your arms. “Guess it wore off.”

For a moment, Gale was silent, his expression caught between amusement and exasperation. Then he laughed again, the sound warm and rich as he reached out to pull you into a tight embrace.

“Oh, darling” he murmured against your hair. “You’ll be the death of me, you know that?”

You chuckled, leaning into his embrace. “Sorry for the trouble.”

He pulled back slightly, his hands cupping your face as he studied you intently.

“Don’t apologize,” he said softly, his gaze filled with affection. “Just promise me one thing: if you ever feel another surge of wild magic coming on, give me fair warning. I’d like to prepare for the possibility of, say, you turning into a boulder next time.”

You laughed, and he smiled, the tension from earlier melting away.

“Come,” he said, rising and offering you his hand. “Let’s have some tea. And maybe—just maybe—I’ll manage to go an entire evening without my lover surprising me with botanical transformations.”

His teasing tone made you grin as you took his hand, and together, you walked back to the campfire, the chaos of the day fading into a memory you’d both cherish.

Astarion:

The sun was beginning to set, casting long, golden shadows over the camp as Astarion strolled back from his usual evening preparations. His step was light, his crimson eyes bright with their usual mischievous glint, but his mood faltered when he reached the center of camp. You were nowhere to be seen.

He tilted his head, scanning the area.

“Darling?” he called, his voice lilting with curiosity. “Where are you? Surely you haven’t wandered off. I thought we agreed that you’d stay within earshot.”

Silence greeted him, save for the distant rustling of the trees. His lips pressed into a thin line as irritation bubbled to the surface. But just as he was about to set off in search of you, his eyes fell on something strange near the fire—a large potted plant. A frown tugged at his features as he approached, his sharp eyes narrowing.

The plant was tall, lush, and vibrant, and its size was suspiciously… familiar. Astarion crouched beside it, reaching out to touch a leaf. His fingers brushed the frond, and a faint hum of chaotic magic tickled his senses. He froze, realization dawning as his mouth fell open.

“No,” he said flatly, staring at the plant as if it had personally insulted him. “You didn’t.”

The plant, of course, did not respond.

“Oh, for the love of—” Astarion cut himself off, straightening with a sharp sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. “This is why I can’t leave you alone for five minutes. I go to sharpen my daggers, and you decide to… become a houseplant.”

He paced around the plant, muttering dramatically to himself. “This is my life now, isn’t it? Hauling around my lover in botanic form. I must admit, this is a new low, even for us.”

Despite his exasperation, there was a thread of affection woven through his words. After all, this was you—his beloved, his partner in chaos. And as much as he wanted to leave you here to stew in your own magic, the thought of someone stumbling upon you while you were vulnerable gnawed at him.

“Well,” he said, planting his hands on his hips, “if you think I’m leaving you here to be stolen by some overly enthusiastic druid or trampled by a stray owlbear, you’re sorely mistaken.”

He crouched again, wrapping his arms around the pot.

“You’re heavier than you look, you know,” he grumbled as he hefted it into his arms. He staggered slightly under the weight before finding his balance, his fangs flashing in a sarcastic grin. “Oh, darling, you’re lucky I adore you.”

Thus began one of the most absurd nights of Astarion’s life. With you—now a potted plant—tucked securely in his arms, he set off toward the group’s meeting point, his gait steady but laced with a dramatic air of martyrdom.

“This is humiliating, you know,” he said, glancing down at the plant. “If anyone sees me like this, I’ll never live it down. ‘Oh, there goes Astarion,’ they’ll say, ‘dragging his decorative lover into battle.’”

When he reached the rest of the group, their reactions were predictably varied. Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, Gale rubbed his temples, and Karlach burst into loud, raucous laughter.

“What in the Hells happened to Tav?” Karlach asked between laughs, clutching her sides.

“They happened to themselves,” Astarion replied dryly, shifting the pot in his arms. “Wild magic. Again.”

“Oh, that’s rich,” Karlach wheezed. “You carrying them around like that!”

“Yes, yes, laugh it up,” Astarion said with a roll of his eyes. “But don’t think I’m letting them out of my sight. If they’re going to make a habit of turning into houseplants, they’ll do it under my watch lest they get molested by the local wildlife.”

Despite his snark, Astarion was true to his word. He carried you everywhere that night—through camp, during patrols, and even to his tent when he finally settled down to rest. He set the pot down beside him, adjusting it with care before sprawling out on his bedroll.

“Well, my love,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I hope you’re enjoying yourself in there. You’re certainly causing me enough trouble.”

He leaned back, his crimson eyes softening as they rested on the plant. “But, as irritating as this is, I suppose it’s… endearing, in its own ridiculous way. Only you could find a way to make this charming.”

As if on cue, a faint shimmer of magic enveloped the plant. Astarion sat up, his eyes narrowing as the light grew brighter. Then, with a soft poof, the plant was gone, and there you were, sitting on the ground, disoriented but whole.

“Astarion?” you murmured, blinking up at him.

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a dramatic groan, he flopped back onto his bedroll.

“You absolute menace,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched in a reluctant smile.

You chuckled, crawling over to sit beside him. “Thanks for not leaving me behind.”

He turned his head to look at you, his crimson eyes glinting. “As if I’d ever let anything happen to you,” he said softly. “Though next time, darling, do try to keep yourself… human-shaped. For my sanity, if nothing else.”

You laughed, and he sighed, reaching out to pull you close.

“Come here, you absurd, wonderful disaster,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I suppose I’ll just have to love you as you are—potted plants and all.”

Wyll:

The inn was a cozy, bustling place, alive with the clatter of mugs and the hum of conversation. Wyll, ever the gentleman, had rented a room for the two of you after a long day’s travel. He’d left you in the corner of the common room momentarily, promising to return after he spoke with the innkeeper.

When he came back, you were gone.

His brows furrowed, his gaze darting around the room.

“My love?” he called softly, his voice carrying just enough for you to hear if you were nearby. “Where have you gotten off to?”

No response. His eyes scanned the crowd, then the quieter corners of the room. There, near the hearth, was a potted plant—a lush, green monstera—placed exactly where he had left you. He could have sworn there was only one monestera by the heart but now it seemed to have a friend. He paused, staring at the new plant with suspicion.

It couldn’t be, could it? He took a cautious step closer, noting the faint hum of magic still lingering in the air. His heart sank, and he let out a long, resigned sigh.

“Wild magic,” he muttered, crouching down to inspect the plant. “Of course. You’ve turned yourself into a… rather fetching monstera, I’ll give you that.”

Wyll ran a hand through his hair, glancing around to ensure no one else was watching him talk to a houseplant. He leaned in closer, his expression softening as he whispered, “Love, if that’s really you, don’t worry. I’ve got this under control.”

Scooping the plant into his arms, he carried it upstairs to the room. It was awkward—pottery wasn’t exactly easy to cradle—but Wyll managed, setting the plant down gently on the small table by the window.

“There,” he said, brushing a few flecks of dirt from his gloves. “Safe and sound.”

For the next few hours, Wyll did his best to care for you—or what he thought was you. He watered the plant carefully, ensuring the soil was just moist enough, and even adjusted its position so it could catch the evening sunlight streaming through the window. He pulled up a chair, resting his chin in his hand as he spoke softly.

“I know this must be frustrating,” he said, his deep voice filled with sympathy. “Being stuck like this. But you’ll be back to your old self in no time, I promise.”

He leaned back, arms crossed as he continued his one-sided conversation. “You know, I always did think you had a natural beauty about you—though I must admit, I never imagined it quite so literally.” He chuckled at his own joke, the sound warm and gentle.

Downstairs, however, the real you—still in potted plant form—sat abandoned near the hearth. A kind innkeeper had noticed you and moved you closer to the bar, thinking you were just a decorative piece. It wasn’t until Karlach wandered into the inn later that evening that someone finally noticed.

Karlach, who had been looking for both you and Wyll, stopped in her tracks when she spotted the plant. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Wait a second,” she muttered, crouching down. Her hand brushed a leaf, and the faint hum of magic confirmed her suspicions. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Grinning, she scooped up the plant with ease and made her way upstairs, throwing open the door to Wyll’s room.

“Oi, Blade of Frontiers!” she called, her voice ringing with amusement. “Care to explain why you’ve been sweet-talking a normal plant while the real Y/N was stuck downstairs?”

Wyll, who had been mid-sentence in his heartfelt monologue to the decoy plant, froze. His eyes darted between the monstera in Karlach’s hands and the one sitting on the table. Realization dawned, and a flush of embarrassment crept up his neck. He must have mixed them up when he was thinking about the plants.

“Oh,” he said, standing abruptly. “Oh no.”

Karlach set the real you on the floor with a laugh. “You’ve been flirting with a houseplant, Wyll. I can’t decide if that’s adorable or just plain tragic.”

Wyll let out a groan, running a hand over his face. “I thought I was being attentive! Caring! I—I even watered it.”

“You watered it?” Karlach doubled over with laughter, slapping her knee. “Oh, Y/N's gonna love this story.”

As if on cue, the magic around you shimmered, and with a soft poof, you were yourself again. You blinked, disoriented, as Wyll dropped to his knees beside you.

“My love!” he exclaimed, relief flooding his face. “You’re back. Thank the gods.”

You looked between him and the monstera on the table, piecing together what had happened. A slow smile spread across your face. “You were… talking to the wrong plant?”

Wyll groaned again, burying his face in his hands. “Don’t remind me.”

Karlach was still laughing in the corner. “Oh, this is gold. Absolute gold.”

Despite his embarrassment, Wyll reached out to pull you into a tight hug, holding you close.

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” he murmured, his voice soft. “Even if I made a fool of myself.”

You smiled against his shoulder, your heart swelling with affection.

“Thanks for taking care of… well, something,” you teased gently. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression tender.

“Always,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Though next time, do me a favor and give me a hint, would you? I’d rather not make a habit of serenading the wrong foliage.”

Karlach let out a snort from the doorway, and the three of you dissolved into laughter.

Halsin:

The forest clearing was quiet, save for the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze. Camp had been peaceful for once—no goblin raids, no cursed relics, just the calm embrace of nature. Halsin had stepped away to check the nearby stream for fish, leaving you to experiment with your magic. You’d promised to be careful.

You weren’t careful.

When Halsin returned, carrying a string of freshly caught trout, he immediately noticed something was off. The air around camp felt strange, the energy shifted. His sharp eyes scanned the area for you, but instead of your familiar figure, there was… a potted plant sitting in the middle of camp. A magnificent fern, its leaves vibrant and swaying slightly as if caught in an unseen wind.

He paused, brow furrowing.

“My heart?” he called cautiously, setting the fish down. When no answer came, his gaze settled on the fern. The faint shimmer of wild magic clinging to it made understanding dawn. A slow smile spread across his face.

“Ah,” he muttered, walking over to crouch by the plant. “Wild magic has claimed you again, my heart.”

He gently brushed a large leaf with his fingertips, marveling at how alive it felt.

“You have excellent taste in flora,” he remarked, his tone warm with amusement. “A fern suits you. Strong, resilient… perhaps a bit mischievous.”

Settling beside the pot, Halsin crossed his legs and rested his elbow on one knee, chin in his hand.

“I suppose this is as good a time as any to remind you of the importance of grounding yourself before experimenting with magic,” he mused, though his voice carried no trace of reproach. “Not that you’ll be able to argue with me right now.”

Despite his humor, Halsin’s instinct to care for you took over. He carefully examined the soil, testing its dampness with a practiced hand.

As the evening wore on, Halsin moved you to a sunnier spot, adjusting your position as the light shifted. He kept up a steady stream of conversation, as though you were still in your usual form.

“I’m reminded of a time in the grove,” he said, his deep voice rumbling. “We had a druid who accidentally turned herself into a willow sapling. The children tied ribbons to her branches before anyone realized. She was furious—but she did make quite a beautiful tree.”

At one point, a squirrel approached, chittering curiously at the strange new plant in the camp. Halsin waved it off with a soft laugh. “Move along, friend. This one is spoken for.”

By the time dusk began to fall, he had arranged a small circle of stones around your pot, creating a makeshift shrine of sorts. It was a gesture born of care, a way to ensure you were safe and undisturbed.

As the stars began to twinkle above, the shimmer of magic around you intensified. Halsin, ever attuned to such things, noticed immediately. He knelt beside you, watching as the transformation took hold. With a soft poof, you returned to your usual self, sitting cross-legged where the pot had been moments before.

You blinked in disorientation, glancing around before meeting Halsin’s golden-brown eyes. He was smiling, warm and full of quiet amusement.

“Welcome back,” he said softly.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “I turned into a plant again, didn’t I?”

Halsin chuckled, offering you a hand to help you to your feet. “You did. A particularly lovely fern, if I may say so. I’ve spent the better part of the day tending to you.”

Your cheeks flushed as you noticed the circle of stones. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smile deepening.

“How could I not? You’re my heart, no matter your form.” He stepped closer, resting a hand gently on your cheek. “Besides, it gave me an excuse to dote on you.”

You laughed softly, leaning into his touch. “I’ll try to keep the wild magic under control next time.”

“Do as you must,” he said, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “But know that if it happens again, I’ll be here. I’ll always care for you, no matter how many leaves you sprout.”

Managed to get this one out for you all, I am hoping to post a christmas BG3 imagine post thingy at some point, my life is just chaos rn. Thank you all for checking in on me, I truly appreciate every single one of you. Hope you enjoyed this! - Seluney xox

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