𝔫𝔬 𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔨 𝔫𝔬 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔶

[swashbucklcr-a]

SWASHBUCKLCR: An independent, selective, roleplay blog for Finn; original character from Dragon Age: the Veilguard or Tav from Baldur's Gate 3. About found on CARRD.

Written by Day (he/him), 25+, Irish (GMT). This blog is multi-ship and OC-friendly. All writing is 21+.

Sideblog to @dicethrow. Will follow back from there. Also writing on @galefcrce

Threads: 4/5 ─ ☆ ─ Asks: Open ─ ☆ ─ Current activity: High ─ ☆ ─ Memes ─ ☆ ─ Headcanons ─ ☆ ─ Threads ─ ☆ ─ About

Note to Non-Roleplay Blogs:

You are welcome to follow, read, and like any content you see here. However, please refrain from reblogging writing threads or headcanons. Feel free to reblog any images or like any posts.

Rules are found under the cut.

RULES

Mutuals only: I’m extremely selective and limit follows and threads, to a max of 5 active threads, due to IRL time constraints. This isn't a reflection on the quality of writing by the other person. I don't have the time to write with everyone, sorry!

Finn: Finn is a very masc leaning pansexual man. His background contains some homophobia and fantasy racism due to a rough upbringing by a bigoted parent. In some timelines he is still coming to terms with his own identity but is always open minded to other people's identities.

Age: Only write with muns 25+.

Formatting: I'm dyslexic, so please use simple, consistent formatting (font, size, spacing). Avoid heavy styling like alternating fonts or excessive bold/italics.

Dash only: I don't have a theme and keep my writing aesthetics to a minimum.

No hate or manipulation: Hate speech, call-out posts, or vague posts won’t be tolerated. Be direct if there's an issue. Attempts to manipulate me in any way will end in a block. No homophobia or transphobia will be tolerated.

DA:TV positivity: I enjoyed the game and don’t engage in negativity about it, I'm just here to unwind and have some fun.

Shipping: Based on writing chemistry only. Don't assume the ship based on gameplay.

NSFW: Tagged as 'tw: [trigger]' and 'nsft'. No personal triggers. Sexual/suggestive asks require prior OOC discussion or established IC interaction or will not be answered.

Replies & exclusives: No exclusives, but reply speed may vary by muse and ooc relations.

Prompts & questions: Prompts are open to mutuals; anyone can send questions at any time. Not all prompts or questions will turn into threads.

Breaking mutuals: Unfollow, soft-block, or block as you see fit. Do what makes you comfortable. I'll softblock unless the mun requests a hardblock in their rules.

Anon: On, but hate is deleted. No NSFW anon replies

DNI: Anything from the HP franchise.

[swashbucklcr-a]

@wolf-eyes-wolf-soul // [ DRUNK ]: sender finds receiver drunk. // meme

"MOOOOORRRREEEEEEEN! There you fucking are! I've been looking all over the camp for you."

Finn approached her with a mostly empty, unlabelled brown bottle in one hand, the other arm flopping around her shoulders to pull her into a tight, one-armed hug. The scent of alcohol from the bottle was far stronger than that of any usual drink.

"I was thinking... you know how you have so many questions… so many. Which is fine, it;s fun answering them. But I was thinking... why don't we make this into a drinking game?"

He grinned, swishing the bottle, which gave only a pitiful splash of liquid inside. Most of it had already been consumed by the pirate during his search for his best friend.

"I haven't thought of the rules yet, but we can make it up as we go!"

[swashbucklcr-a]

@deathswcrn // [ BANDAGE ] : sender bandages a wound on receiver. (Bree) // MEME

He flinched softly as the liquid splashed against the gash. Thankfully it wasn't deep enough to need stitching, but it was in an awkward spot, and when Bree saw him fumbling with the bandage, it was fair enough that she took over. His attempt had been awful at best.

Still, it was mildly irritating to need help after a fight when no one else in their little group was hurt. It left him feeling a bit out of his depth. There was a master fucking assassin and his demon, a Grey Warden, mages etc... and then there was him.

No prizes for guessing who the weak link was meant to be.

But Finn knew the stakes, and he wasn't about to quit. He'd give this fight, and every fight after it, everything he had. Even if that meant taking stupid risks to distract the Venatori while the others seized an opening.

And those curved blades, whatever the hell they used, hurt like crazy when they cut into him. Thankfully the cultist never got the chance to capitalise on the wound before someone struck him down. Finn couldn't say who; his back had been turned during the final moments of the fray.

"Look, I know you're pissed," he grunted, head tilted away so he didn't have to see just how angry Bree was, "but it worked."

[wolf-eyes-wolf-soul]

Morren frowned, about to argue that surely rivers and lakes were just as full of "fish piss" as Finn claimed the sea was. Fish didn't just live in the sea! She may not have his breadth of experience when it came to the world but she did know some things.

Oh, he was teasing her.

She should probably know better by now that to take Finn completely at his word. He had a habit of stating something as if it were fact to her when it was in fact complete nonsense. She still remembered the time she had asked him about Waterdeep and he had told her it was completely underwater. That had made for an awkward conversation when she had brought it up with Gale later and he'd had to explain to her that Waterdeep was on dry land and Finn had told her a pack of lies.

Water so salty it couldn't be drunk? That seemed more plausible, Morren supposed. Her immediate follow up was wanting to ask where all the salt had come from? His comment about Umberlee answered that. Yes, it did seem like the kind of cruel and capricious thing that she would do. Surrounded by water but unable to drink a drop of it.

"So then how do you survive when you're on a boat? Do you have to take water with you as well? Wouldn't it go stagnant and taste funny after a while?"

[swashbucklcr-a]

"It's in barrels, and yeah, it can taste like shit after a while. We also drank stuff like mead and watered-down ale to make it taste better. In fact, we mostly drank mead and ale. The water was just there to water the drinks down and make them last longer."

Finn plucked a pebble from the shore, turning it over in his hand to inspect it before tossing it across the river. It hit a ripple and sank instantly.

"Shit. Probably works better on lakes or out at sea than a river… well, at least we can drink this water, eh?"

He glanced back down and scooped up a couple more pebbles, holding then out on his open palm. Giving his hand a small shake, he gestured for Morren to pick one.

"Right. You and your million questions. Each skip you do, you get to ask me one, and I'll answer it properly."

[deathswcrn]

No matter how justifiable, kidnap was still kidnap. And so when Finn became quiet and surly, refused to speak with her, she hadn't blamed him at all. He was young, afraid - he didn't know the world didn't have to be as cold and uncaring as Duncan had made it. That's why she took him away, after all. But it was nothing she could impress unless he got a real taste for life away from the ship.

She handed him a bowl of porridge and sat down across from him, determined she wasn't going to lose this chance to free him.

"Shit, kid, I know," she said with a sigh, sounding - resigned.

"Look. If you wanna go back, I'm not gonna stop you. Throw me under the carriage wheels to Duncan, tell him I did it 'cause I'd had enough of his shit an' I wanted to make him suffer, play the victim." Maker knows she wasn't afraid of Duncan, not really. And she wanted to protect Finn - if being his scapegoat shielded him from their ex-Captain's wrath, then so be it.

But then, she offered him something she knew for a fact Duncan had never given him: choice. Compassion. "But I'm askin' you - beggin' you, really - to really think about whether the Duncannon made you happy, an' whether you'd prefer to do somethin' else. And whatever else it is you'd wanna do? We'll go do that for a bit. Just... give it a chance. That's all I'm askin' from you."

[swashbucklcr-a]

There lingered a question that kept him awake at night: if given the chance, would he return to the Dúncannon?

There were so many nights Finn slipped up to the upper deck and leaned against the wooden railing on the starboard side, gazing out at the black, star-strewn sky. Part of him always wondered what all that life had given him. Hiding who he was from his father. Taking the whip whenever he failed, for reasons he could never understand, never knowing why he was never enough.

Sometimes it felt as though something was broken. Either in him, or in his father. And that difference was laid bare time and time again.

The last punishment had come from Finn's refusal to finish a man during a fight. What should have been a proud moment, proof of his skill in combat, ended instead with his father roaring at him… calling him a failure. Finn could never understand how not killing a crewmate could be considered one.

It infuriated him. Made him want to punch the old man and damn the consequences, but some small scrap of sense held him back, and instead he endured the berating and a night without rations.

Then, before he could sneak back out to the deck one last time, maybe gaze at the stars again, maybe see if the cook had left leftovers somewhere easily reached, as he so often did… he was taken.

Taken by the very woman who now sat before him, offering food despite his disobedience.

Finn lifted a spoonful to his lips, blowing softly before taking a bite, listening as she spoke. Listening to her explanations for tearing him away from the last of his family. Yes, Duncan was an arsehole, but he was still his father. Bree, on the other hand, was mostly a stranger. A new member of the crew who clearly didn't fit in with the rest.

It had taken being kidnapped for Finn to truly realise just how much she didn't belong.

A part of him was tempted to take her offer, to throw her under the wagon or whatever the fuck she'd said. Let Duncan punish someone else for a change, but as he chewed and swallowed, Finn knew that was fear talking, and in the few raids he'd witnessed and taken part in, fear always made men do stupid things. Turning in Bree would be stupid, and cowardly. He wouldn't sink that low.

"Nothing makes me happy," he replied, knowing it was a lie, at least in part. Nothing recent brought him joy, but he figured that was just part of growing up.

"But this porridge isn't shit, so I guess you could say it doesn't make me sad."

With that, he took another mouthful, not daring to say that he didn't want to go back to the ship.

[swashbucklcr-a]

[ MORNING AFTER ]: sender and receiver wake up together for the first time after a night of passion.

Non-verbal prompts // @anothercrowbastard

The golden morning light of an Artlathan dawn slowly crept across the tent, its rays brightening the tarp and pouring through the cracks onto two sleeping men, holding one another for warmth and comfort. The bedrolls lay open beneath them, barely used as blankets. Instead, Finn clung to Esha like a second skin, his head tucked against Esha's shoulder, one hand resting on his bicep, fingers pressing into muscle as their legs were intertwined.

Though the light seeped into their small slice of heaven, so too did a few locals of the forest. The dawn stirred the spirits awake, sensing an unusual presence among the trees, and they drifted closer. Most curious of all were the wisps.

One crack in the tarp briefly blotted out the sun as two wisps slipped through the gap, fluttering in their ethereal way above the men. Soft chittering passed between them until one grew brave enough to edge closer and closer, before tickling the brow of the Rivaini.

"Mmhph… later," he murmured, giving his companion a gentle swat, his half-sleeping mind blaming the Antivan for waking him so soon after dawn.

The chittering only grew louder, their strange means of communication reaching Finn's ears as he realised the little miscreants had broken into the tent. One eye cracked open and, even through the blur of sleep, he could make out the pale, glowing blue shapes hovering nearby.

Usually their presence brought him a sense of tranquillity, but this morning it was mostly irritation, an irritation that quickly faded when he felt the Antivan in his arms stir as well. With that came memories of the night before: a planned picnic, a break from the chaos of their quests; the Blight, the gods, and all the wrongs in the world Esha was meant to set right.

A lot for one man, even with a remarkable team at his side.

What Finn had intended as a simple respite from responsibility had turned into something far more, and every moment of the night came back to him. Their first kiss, the second, the third -- everything that followed. His thoughts lingered on the moment their pendants tangled together in the heat of it all, and the laughter that followed. It felt like a sign, though Finn was no seer. Still, it all felt right.

It was far too early to be roused from sleep, so he curled closer into the Antivan, hopin, perhaps foolishly, that the wisps might take the hint and leave them be. Esha's warmth and body blocked out some of the light, at least.

There were still gods, the Blight, and other evils to contend with. But not now? Now was for him and Esha. Everything else could wait.

"Later…"

[swashbucklcr-a]

Eavesdrop (for Bree!)

send me   “eavesdrop”   and my muse will describe your muse like they’re talking to a third party // @deathswcrn

Finn glanced around first, checking to see if Bree was nearby before confessing his thoughts about her.

"She's the worst, in the best way. I mean, when I needed someone to do the hardest fucking thing possible, she forced me to do it. She took me away from my da-- from Duncan. I thought I'd hate her for it, but I realised how much better life is away from that bastard.

Now, don't get me wrong. She's still a shit, and I can respect that. I mean, I respect her too. Just don't let her know that. I can't have her thinking I've got all these nice feelings for her and shit.

But it's true. I care about her. She's been more family to me than my own da ever was. Like a big sister, y'know? If big sisters kidnapped you away from your evil bastard of a father. I mean… probably. Now that I think about it, if I had a little brother, I wouldn't let him anywhere near Duncan either.

So, yeah. I guess I like her. Might even love her. But she can't know that. What she can know, though, is that I'm Varric's favourite, not her. In fact, please tell her that."

[kingsmemes]

「   RP MEME :   NONVERBAL PROMPTS.  mix of violent, caring, touching and non-touching prompts.  」     SEND PROMPT '+ REVERSE' for the inverse to happen. for example 'bandage + reverse' for the receiver to bandage wounds on the sender.

[ BANDAGE ] : sender bandages a wound on receiver.

[ GUIDE ] : sender puts a hand on he receiver's back to guide them somewhere.

[ WAVE ]: sender waves down receiver to get their attention.

[ SIGN ]: sender raises their hand to sign to receiver. what follows can be anything the sender desires.

[ LIFT ]: sender lifts receiver's chin to look at them.

[ LIGHT ]: sender lights receiver's cigarette/candle/etc.

[ FIND ] : sender finds receiver beaten and/or bloodied.

[ PIN ]: sender pins receiver against the wall during combat/sparring.

[ GET DOWN ]: sender tackles receiver out of the way of danger.

[ TAKE ]: sender takes a hit meant for receiver.

[ CAUGHT ]: sender finds receiver somewhere they aren't supposed to be.

[ TRAP ]: sender traps the receiver somewhere they don't want to be.

[ DARLING ]: sender touches receiver's cheek.

[ SNATCH ]: sender snatches receiver's wrist as they turn to go.

[ STAB ]: sender stabs receiver.

[ DRAG ]: sender drags receiver from point a to point b.

[ SIT ]: sender sits on receiver's lap.

[ EN GARDE ]: sender and receiver get into some kind of fight.

[ DRUNK ]: sender finds receiver drunk.

[ BLOOD ]: sender walks into receiver's room covered in blood.

[ FLOWER ]: sender offers a flower to receiver.

[ HOLD ]: sender reaches to hold receiver's hand.

[ BRUSH ]: sender brushes a strand of hair out of receiver's face.

[ NOTE: ] sender writes a note for receiver. the contents are whatever the sender decides.

[ EYES ]: sender notices receiver looking at them.

[ STOP ]: sender raises hand to signal the receiver to stop in place.

[ TAP ]: sender taps receiver on the shoulder to get their attention.

[ WAKE ]: sender gently wakes receiver from a nap or otherwise.

[ MORNING AFTER ]: sender and receiver wake up together for the first time after a night of passion.

[ BLANKET ]: sender drapes a blanket over receiver's shoulders.

[ HUDDLE ]: sender and receiver huddle together in an effort to stay warm.

[ TUG ]: sender pulls receiver away from them.

[ PUSH ]: sender pushes receiver away from them.

[ BULLET ]: sender shoots receiver in a non-lethal area.

[swashbucklcr-a]

eavesdrop

send me   “eavesdrop”   and my muse will describe your muse like they’re talking to a third party // @wolf-eyes-wolf-soul

"Careful what you say about Morren. She's a good one, probably one of the best of us here, makes the rest of us look like the arseholes that we are. I mean, I know I'm a terror to her, and yeah, it's pretty funny. But I'd never hurt her. Ever. And if I did, I'd be the fucking first to punish myself for it.

She deserves so much more than what she's been given. More than what we give her."

Finn paused, drumming his fingers against his thigh before finally adding,

"She's like a little sister to me, alright? Bloody adore her. And if anyone tries to get to her, they'll have to get through me first."

[swashbucklcr-a]

“eavesdrop” (@brokenwingsofdeath)

send me   “eavesdrop”   and my muse will describe your muse like they’re talking to a third party // @brokenwingsofdeath

Naturally, the topic of Illario had come up in conversation. A few jokes were cracked (mostly at Finn's expense) which earned a scowl, though one that was barely skin-deep.

So the question came: What is he to you?

There was a pause, and when Finn finally spoke, the words slid out lubricated by alcohol, but they were the truth all the same.

"Illario? I dunno. He's a bit much sometimes. Prissy? Nah… sassy's the better word. I mean, he's always got a fucking comeback for everything. You've got to admire it, really. Pretty fucking smart, knowing what to say to anything. Makes me want to find a way to leave him at a loss for words. A challenge, y'know?"

He took another sip of his drink.

"And... he's… always there, at the end of it all. For us. I mean, as bards go, he's pretty fucking good. You heard his guitar? Fucking amazing. Wish I could play like that. Must be a Luskan style or something, I've never seen it before."

"Oh, style? Yeah, I guess he dresses nicely. I don't be looking there-- I'm looking at his face before you make another fucking joke!"

"I mean, he's good-looking. I'd be fucking blind to deny that. Alright, very good-looking. Some people might even say beautiful. I'm sure some people probably like him."

Another quiet sip followed, Finn's gaze drifting towards the darkness where Illario's tent stood. He couldn't help but wonder if the bard was inside. If he wanted company. If he'd want Finn's company. Maybe they could talk about the guitar again, or Finn could explain the constellations; how sailors used them to navigate at sea. It was a perfect night for that sort of thing.

But instead, he returned his attention to his drink, shrugging off his last words while quietly admitting to himself:

I'm some people.

"Don't tell him I said any of this shit, I'll never hear the end of it."

[rpmemes-galore]

send me   “eavesdrop”   and my muse will describe your muse like they’re talking to a third party. 

[swashbucklcr-a]

Finn and his "totally not" boyfriend Illario having a moment before they fact the inevitable. // @brokenwingsofdeath

[swashbucklcr-a]

Not only is Finn terrible at hiding his emotions on his face, he will often comment "what the fuck" under his breath and shake his head.

He's fine with displaying his annoyance and distaste. In fact, he's often makes no effort to hide such thoughts, but doesn't realise that he's also terrible at hiding his softer emotions too; his sadness, pain, love, care, and interest.

Usually, when on the Dúncannon, those emotions are hidden under a constant state of anger, but when he's somewhere he feels somewhat safer emotionally, that mask of anger slips off, and he becomes an open book.

[swashbucklcr-a]

// Finn isn't a fan of the Emperor flirting with him

[swashbucklcr-a]

Plotted starter for @brokenwingsofdeath

Whispering mirrors ought to be avoided, especially one in a Sharran enclave. Yet Finn found his feet carrying him towards it, as if drawn in by the murmuring whispers.

He spared a glance back at his companions. Most of them were clustered around Shadowheart, speaking quietly with her after the decision she'd made regarding her parents. A few were guiding her away, none of them noticing where Finn had wandered off to. It wasn't unusual for the rogue-turned-bard to drift, to sift through pockets or poke around to see what he might find.

His own pockets were still a little light after his donation to Ilmater. Or rather, his donation to the refugee camp, it was his way of paying his respects to his god.

Gold was always useful, especially with the extortionate fees they so often faced. But gold was the last thing on Finn's mind as he stood before the dark mirror. Calling it a mirror didn't quite feel right; it offered no reflection. At first, at least. The darkness seemed to drink in all light, leaving only the faintest hint of smoke swirling beneath the glass.

The longer he stared, the more that darkness thinned, as though the whispers were guiding the smoke into shape. He couldn't make out the words at first… until finally he could hear them properly.

'Think of your most precious memory…'

That wasn't difficult. Anything tied to the person who had changed his life for the better. The man who taught him the guitar, acceptance, how to love himself and another.

Illario.

Everything about him rose to the surface, as if drawn straight from Finn's chest. He smiled as memories spilled forth: their shared adventures, quiet evenings beneath the stars, sitting by the fire while playing guitar and humming softly. Sharing wine, gossiping, teasing each other. Fighting side by side. Sleeping tangled together in a nest of pillows.

Every moment was precious, until…

There were no more.

Strange. It felt as though the connection to the mirror had been severed. A warm hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him back, and his mind went blank for a heartbeat before--

"Finn, get away from that."

He couldn't tell whose voice had called out, only that the mirror suddenly felt… wrong.

So Finn walked away without looking back, rejoining the remnants of the group as they gathered themselves. His gaze caught on a new face among them. A surprise, but considering the carnage required to reach this far into the enclave, it wasn't entirely unexpected. Perhaps they'd picked up a companion along the way.

Either way, everyone seemed to like the newcomer well enough. Finn figured he should too, offering a greeting as they began to ascend the steps.

"Hey, didn't get to properly meet you with all of that fighting and shit. Call me Finn, what do I call you?"

[swashbucklcr-a]

Character flaws: Finn

Bold what always applies to your muse. Italicize what sometimes applies.

easily scared | whiny | repetitive | selfish | arrogant | easily excitable | too silly | stubborn | blank minded | overly cautious | loud | easily bored | untrustworthy | disloyal | manipulative | over sensitive | possessive | clingy | obnoxious | gullible | annoying | judgmental | tactless | merciless | unlucky | soft-hearted | sarcastic | reckless | paranoid | unsophisticated | pushy | self-critical | smart-ass | solemn | erratic | antisocial | complex | dubious | egotistical | tongue-tied | temperamental | lazy | sadist | masochist | predictable | withdrawn | skeptical | rebellious | proud | perfectionist | impatient | audacious

Tagged by: @bloodlaurel

Tagging: whoever wants to do this!

[sakhafa]

no one ever talks about the 6th love language (being annoying)