#Crystal LFC

[thewrongblues]

crying

[mooglemeet]

It's been a bit since we did a headcount, kupo! Especially in the wake of social media being weird; this might serve as a good way for people to connect with each other. Please like and reblog this post if you are an active Final Fantasy XIV blog focusing on one (or more) of the following: roleplay, writing & worldbuilding.

It does not matter how active you are at all three, only that you participate in some of it and would like to follow more likeminded people.

The bigger this post gets, the more people can have a look through and follow people they like the look of! You can also use the reblogs to give a little blurb about yourself or even make you're own separate post tagging @mooglemeet that I will reblog for extra traction!

This headcount was posted 8/19/2023, to help gauge overall activity of users on it!

[sunnytkm23]

I think the only game after Liverpool won the title that I'll care about is against Palace, as both of them will be hungover and not giving a fuck, especially since they're both Premier League and FA Cup champions, so why bother trying if it's also the last game of the season?

The important thing is to fulfill the table and celebrate the titles together, the result will be less important since Palace will play in the Europa League

[pennybr566]

btw lemme just say crystal palace are too hard for that. fair play. 👏🏽👏🏽 now they’re our last game of the season AND community shield opponents.

[antlers-and-omens]

FFXIV LFRP On Hiatus

Full name: A'vaanoh Tia

Race: Miqo'te; Seeker of the Sun

Gender: M

Sexuality: Heterosexual...maybe?

Marital Status: Single

Age: Early/mid thirties

Profession: Lawyer, retired gladiator

Hobbies: Bounty/monster hunter, romance novelist

Profession(s) and Interests

A'vaanoh is a former gladiator of some renown. After winning big about a decade ago, he took all his winnings and savings... and got out, seeking an education in criminal law.

A'vaanoh couldn't exactly just set aside the fighting life, so he has a hobby of monster/bounty hunting. That hobby got him into a spot of trouble with a voidsent that he now shares his body and mind with, but... any more information on that will require roleplay!

He's also a romance novelist, and writes for any and all pairings the readers might care to see portrayed! It's another side-hobby that's earned him some small acclaim. The people need an escape - and who is he to deny them their cheesy, smutty romance-adventure-time?

He is likewise heavily involved with chocobo racing! Investing in the breeding and training of as much - like any rich guy with too much money on his hands, why not invest in thoroughbreds? He can be found at the Gold Saucer rather frequently! Pretty 'birds,' after all, aren't always found at the races.

Hair: Pale blond

Eyes: Amber

Height: 5'9"

Build: Muscular

Distinguishing Marks: Lots of battle scars - notably, an x-shaped one over his nose/between his eyes

RP Hooks

If you're looking for an RP hook, literally anything on this page suffices!

The voidsent he harbors, alone, could lead to a myriad of reasons to interact.

Maybe you're at the Gold Saucer frequently, like he is - or maybe not, and you just run into him there by chance! You could be a chocobo jockey he's sponsoring! Or a chocobo breeder he works with.

Maybe you read his romance novels and you're a fan! Maybe you want to pitch an idea for a romance pairing/setting/etc to an author you like.

Maybe you want to end up on a bounty together/have worked with him in the past! He's often on bounties out in the Coerthas area, as well - since bounties are all over the place, there's no end of ways one could run into him, or have a reason to. Maybe you're hiring, or picked up the same bounty, etc.

He's a criminal defense lawyer - there's another hook that could go several ways.

He lives in Ul'dah - another reason to run into him.

He effectively counts as a (an unorthodox) reaper, with the voidsent he's made a pact with, a scholar because of the magic he uses/it seemed to make sense with his law studies, and a gunbreaker since he likes guns AND magic, and that's more fun on a bounty than whipping out a tome and doing some math.

Maybe you fought him several years ago in the arena.

Maybe you need a wealthy investor. Or someone to sponsor you in the Arena.

He's an incorrigible flirt, heartbreaker, and consummate bachelor. There's plenty to work with there, too - I'm open to past connections of all kinds.

He's a pretty affable guy, at that! While he takes his work seriously... he believes in: work hard, play harder! He's a lush, and enjoys alcohol, sex, and luxury as much as most of the wealthy elite around the Jewel of the Desert.

The OOC

Writer is 30+, and I prefer RP partners to be 21+ - I do prefer darker, more mature RP, but that's not all I'm capable of! I just like morally grey explorations - and questions like 'what really drives a person?'

Late nights aren't really something I can do anymore, past 11-12pm my writing isn't any good, though my schedule is open enough to allow earlier starting times. Also I'm CST, and prefer in-game RP (Balmung). I simply can't stay in character when RP isn't moving in real time, and tend to just forget to respond to out of game stuff, or not feel well enough to write some days, and it ends up taking so long that I can't stay in character. Thus, scheduling in-game scenes ahead of time will always be what works best.

No canon characters please, it just really breaks my immersion/my character wouldn't have any reason to interact with canon characters really! Unfortunately, this means WoL OCs as well - their power level is just so intense that I can't really justify my OCs interacting with the WoL: time-traveling slayer of gods at the edges of the universe. (And no shade to canon RPers of any kind - it's just not my cup of tea, is all. Embrace your fun, my friends!)

I prefer plots, and RP with a purpose - contact solely focused on ERP is not welcome. ERP as part of an on-going story doesn't bother me, however.

Don't bring IC into OOC, or vice verse!

Communicate! If the RP isn't working for you, just tell me! I prefer 'organic RP,' but if you want to steer a story (RP) in a certain direction or don't want it steering in a direction, let me know! I much prefer having that conversation, rather than allowing an RP partner to be silently upset or uncomfortable!Follows come from @ooc-miqojak , and my other blogs are @miqojak and @vulpes-ferus !

[millythegoat]

it's weird to see Oli's team this passive..

[joe-zone]

[miqojak]

Okay, I've updated my carrd a good bit (and tried my best to optimize it for mobile, though it may still be a bit wonky in places). I added a LOT of old writings to my page that's a collection of all of my writings for/about Jak throughout the years, tweaked a few things, changed a few screenshots... but here it is! It's a new year. Come RP with me. If not with Jak, then maybe @antlers-and-omens or @vulpes-ferus !

[formulalfc]

that was way too fucking close

[blessed-by-umbral]

( I'm getting accustomed to taking screenshots! Nothing dynamic, but a glimpse into Ondrea Cress!)

[supersunsetnova]

TODAY IS THE DAY

How the day will go….

Virgil van Dijk will lift the Premier League trophy in front 60,000

Virgil van Dijk will be presented with the Premier League trophy by Alan Hansen at Anfield on Sunday. The Reds’ current captain will receive the silverware from Hansen, one of his illustrious predecessors as club skipper, after the champions’ final game of the season against Crystal Palace.

Also involved will be community representatives Mark and Jo McVeigh of the Owen McVeigh Foundation. Mark and Jo will bring the trophy pitchside and place it on a plinth for Hansen to then hand over to Van Dijk.

Immediately after the final whistle, the players will leave the pitch while preparations are made for the trophy lift, with a stage to be built before Arne Slot’s squad are welcomed back out. Liverpool legend Hansen made 620 appearances for the club, winning eight league titles – three of which were as captain, including in the 1989-90 season, which was the last time supporters witnessed the Reds lifting the top-flight championship trophy.

A

It will be an emotional return to Anfield to be part of the presentation party for Hansen, who has recently recovered from a battle with ill health. Mark and Jo, meanwhile, have been praised for their work in the community to help create memorable experiences for families with children battling cancer.

The Owen McVeigh Foundation

They started the Owen McVeigh Foundation in 2015 after the passing of their son Owen to leukaemia. They have since worked tirelessly to create memorable experiences for families through the Oncology ward (3B) at Alder Hey Children’s Hospital.

The charity has grown from strength to strength with the support of LFC and LFC Foundation, with Van Dijk also supporting its work. As a charity partner, it has received regular donations to create memorable experiences for the families in its care.

Enjoy the free wallpaper I made..

Remember this day forever

CHAMP20NS AGAIN and back on our perch

[arne-slut]

Palace you fucking donkeys

You just roll over and let City decimate our goal advantage

I swear if we lose our top spot I will scream

[coachtfd]

I said it would be a rough start. Okay, it was a REALLY rough start. But I had us finishing top 4 with or without Ten Hag because the league is kind of playing out the way I expected, it’s been a very wonky season. That’s why I insisted we didn’t need to panic, we’re still only 6 points away from 4th. A well-chosen signing or two in January could’ve made a huge difference and we would be fine.

The league is in a really turbulent place because of an increase in parity and the decline of City, which I hinted at going back to last year. Hopefully, the United players realize what an opportunity they have and don’t switch off the moment they get punched in the teeth, because it’s coming. If Amorim thinks playing Casemiro and Eriksen in central midfield against Liverpool or City is a good idea, he’s in for ruder awakening than the Ipswich draw…the punch is coming.

People really don’t get it: a new manager doesn’t suddenly make older players 5 years younger or as fast as they were at 25. It won’t suddenly make Rashford score 30 goals in all competitions and we sacked the last two managers that actually got a productive tune out him.

My hope is that the club will do something serious in January. Personally, I’d tell Maguire and Lindeolf to start packing and go get Bastoni from Inter. I’d get Adam Wharton from Palace despite the current injury because we could probably negotiate a lower transfer fee, maybe add in a buy-back clause. I also like that kid from Southampton, Tyler Dibling. He’s got Amad-like traits that I think will suit this new system perfectly, but Bastoni would be my primary winter play.

7 players injured already and the season hasn’t even started yet…goodness. But that’s alright because we’re going to hang in, weather the rough start, and kick on for top 4 this season. 👏🏾👏🏾

[antlers-and-omens]

FFXIV Write 2023 #4: Off The Hook

The woman's insistence on apologizing had been... well, she'd been off the hook since she'd first dumped liquor on him, if only because it had given him a chance to spite the Demon - to let it rage in impotence at someone it could do not a whit of harm to.

Perhaps Vaanoh had made it out with the better end of the deal, really - it was a major inconvenience, and at times precarious... but he'd gotten his life back... mostly. He had to be careful how close he was to... anyone. Even his own mother wasn't safe from him now, in truth.

But who else had he ever really been close with, anyways? What was the damned thing depriving him of? It was the one that was trapped. Bound by word... and deed. And how many - supposed - criminals had he defended in court, now? Since when had he drawn lines in the sand? When had he balked at going into business with... much of anyone, regardless of their way of life? It wasn't his business what their business was - in fact, everything ran a lot more smoothly when he kept his nose out of their business.

It was different when it lived inside you, though.

You don't get to turn the lights off, close the door, and go home from your job with a clean conscience. There's no getting away from what lives within - the thing he'd let in. To stay alive, they'd both had to compromise on their living situation, and... the constant exposure to the demon's will was corrosive, to say the least.

When do you know where what desires are yours - and what are its - differentiate? When is it an intrusive thought, and... when is it the Creature stirring? How quickly could it accomplish what it desires? Would he even know? It would do nothing that could get them imprisoned, surely - he'd explained the concept... and the starvation the Thing would know, if that happened - it served it no good to sabotage its vessel.

As for the corruptive effects that hosting a demon might otherwise have... he'd been trying to research, but it became difficult to procure the texts he required without drawing notice - and half the time, he didn't know what texts he did need, at that.

Borrowed time went down sour.

[millythegoat]

matt turner jumpscare from the bench! Forgot that man is in there now...a true journeyman!

[lisenberry]

The sweat on your skin is better than regret on your heart

Part three! (One and Two) I know I promised smut, but I just got really deep into his tattoos. Part four will finish this up, I swear.

Tattoo Artist!Price x F!Reader

He led you towards the back of the shop, past the reception desk and the waiting area, and behind the black velvet privacy curtain.  You were surprised at how clean it was in his workspace.  Welcoming in its warmth.  You expected neon lights and goth décor.  Crystal skulls and gleaming stainless steel.

Instead, it was a palette of rich, earthy tones.  A supple looking camel-colored leather sofa, maps of the ocean and model ships of every shape and size.  A compass rose painted with elaborate detail on the ceiling.  A stained-glass light fixture at its center. 

“It’s beautiful in here,” you mused, as you spun around slowly in a mix of awe and anticipation.  If you were to get a tattoo, it would be the place. 

“If you give me a second, I can draw you up a few ideas.  The ones you showed me on your little phone are uninspired shit.”  He slipped another cig from his pack and tucked it behind his ear.  Always at the ready.

“I’m actually more worried about the placement.”  You bit your lip for courage.  You couldn’t believe you were doing this.  “Could you show me yours?  Maybe that’ll help me decide.”

You sat atop a padded seat that he could recline forward and backward, raise up and down to suit the best position.  It was comfortable and smooth against the back of your knees. 

“I think we can stop pretending why you’re still here.  You want me to help you forget your boyfriend, don’t you?  Work you up so hard—so good and proper—that you don’t remember his name.”

But even as he spoke, he obliged you.  Tugged his shirt off efficiently, pulling it up from behind his neck and shrugging it over the front of his shoulders, letting it come to rest between his wrists.  It briefly looked like handcuffs before he tossed it on the floor beside him.

His hair stuck up in roguish angles before he could smooth it down with a stiff swipe of his palm.   

“No, I want to remember.  Remember this feeling for the rest of my life.”  You couldn’t look away as he stood so close to you, so proudly as if for an inspection. 

At the swath of hair that curled around the thick muscles of his chest and trailed down to disappear beneath the waist of the pants that hung low where his hands rested on his hips.

“What feeling is that?”

“Empty?”  You reached a hand out tentatively to touch the skin along his side.  To move him closer for a better look.  “But free.”

He was inked in a scattering of places, like memories collected over time.  No rhyme or symmetry to their arrangement.  A snake coiled around his shoulder and sunk its teeth into his collarbone.  A black bird with a long neck and hooked beak sat vigilantly on one bicep while a simple, unadorned dagger with wings claimed the other.

Some more weathered than others, it was hard to tell which was the oldest. 

“What’s the bird for?”  you asked, nodding to his left arm.  Below it was written “You’ll never walk alone” in stylized script. 

“That’s a liver bird.  The symbol of the LFC.”  A football club?  You cracked a smile at the boyishness of it.  You wondered if that was his first one, as a lad staking his claim on his body.  And the world.

“And the snake?”  You took your time tracing his right shoulder with your fingertips. 

“I hate snakes.  Scare me to death.”  Brave then, to carry one around with him always, forever creeping up to bite him. 

“And the bees?  You scared of them, too?”  You noted the collection of realistically drawn bumble bees at his side, fresher and with bright yellow colors. 

“Those are for my nieces.  Beatrice, Brenna and Bailey.”  He pointed to each, with a glimmer of softness in his voice as he recalled their names.

As you slid your hands to his hips, you turned him around to view the larger canvas at his back.  Just as disjointed as his front, your gaze fell to a ghostly face. 

More skeleton than specter, it sat on his right shoulder.  It’s teeth were made of bullets, and it stared blankly back at you.  The pitch black in the depths of its eyes unnerving. 

Beside it was a bear, warlike in its posture.  Its face open and fearsome, ready to consume its foe.  A claymore style longsword, with a thistle design at its hilt held in its massive paws.

One last piece balanced out the trinity.  A Knight Templar, crouched in armor.  On one bent knee, in service to a force unseen. 

They felt significant, inked in a similar style and with a fluidity that bound them together. 

“They’re important to you?”

“To be at my back?  Yeah.  They’re the best.”

From there, your fingers moved lower, to a set of four lions sat on their flanks.  You recognized them from history.  They were the Landseed lions of Admiral Nelson’s monument in Trafalgar Square.  They’d once held names too, like his nieces. 

Peace. War. Vigilance. Determination.

But these had arrows in their backs.  You imagined that each one in the count held a significance.  Not a life taken.  Or a victory.  Not something so crass and boastful.  Instead, something lost.

Below each, he’d had a set of coral red poppies added.  Bright and vibrant and new.

“It’s lovely,” you felt a tear drift down your cheek.  You didn’t know why.  It happened sometimes when you were at a museum or a gallery.  Moved beyond words at something beyond yourself.  The unbridled expression of another.

The last was a lone set of crosshairs, in a style so different than the rest.  Thin and unsure, as if doodled in a dream.  Just below his neck.  Dead-center at the crest of his spine.

“What’s this one?” You grazed it gently with your fingers.  Not entirely sure you wanted the answer.

“That’s the one that finally gets me, love,” he growled as he twisted around and held your probing hand in his.  “You’ve looked your fill.  Now it’s my turn.”