OF EDEN

HIATUS This is a multimuse, multiship, multiverse independent RP blog consisting of my OCs. Mun is 21+ Tracking: ofxeden Please read my rules before interacting with me. Creator of The Black RP Network (#blackrpnetwork) var fhs = document.createElement('script');var fhs_id = "5368681"; var ref = (''+document.referrer+'');var pn = window.location;var w_h = window.screen.width + " x " + window.screen.height; fhs.src = "//s1.freehostedscripts.net/ocounter.php?site="+fhs_id+"&e1=Constellation&e2=Constellations&r="+ref+"&wh="+w_h+"&a=1&pn="+pn+""; document.head.appendChild(fhs);document.write("");

[ofxeden]

After 4 years, I finally found my email for this account!

[ofxeden]

Then I lost it and found it again! Tumblr is such a butt not giving you information even when offering evidence that it's your account 🙄

[ofxeden]

After 4 years, I finally found my email for this account!

[sagamemes]

reblog this if you’re an indie roleplaying blog with both an LGBTQIA+ mun and LGBTQIA+ muse(s).

i’m trying to get an idea of how large portion of the indie rp community consists of queer muses being written and represented by queer people themselves. allies, don’t interact.

[scottykerouac-a]

reblog if your muse thinks scotty’s dick is iconic.

[spaceiinvaders-deactivated20160]

we’re driving to the restaurant and I want you now so I’m going to be a little bitch and moan and tease you until you finally cave threads.

we’ve been sitting in this place for what feels like ten years and you keep fucking teasing me so get in the bathroom stall right now && let me fuck your brains out threads.

we’re at your mom’s house for the holidays and we have to stay in your childhood bedroom & i want to taint it’s purity by making you almost scream my name threads.

what was that? i can’t hear you because i’ve been sitting here trying to deal with the hand job your son/daughter has been giving me under the table threads.

my mom/dad’s in the next room and you came in through my bedroom window threads.

[designcr]

reblog if you’re 25+ and still roleplay; or if you believe older muns have a place in the rpc and shouldn’t be told to give it up when they turn 30. 

i received this anon & i just want to make a point. 

[museplural-deactivated20180523]

[fuckyeahantoniathomas]

Dancing queen 

[ofxeden]

scottykerouac:

Scotty had been at the gym for the past couple hours. He’d showered off there, but he still never really felt clean until he got in a shower at home. His body ached in that “good” post-workout way as he ambled around his truck to collect his gym bag and head inside the house.

It wasn’t until he had the door open that the scent of clean laundry hit his nose. And it did so with some serious UMPH too. His brows marred quizzicaly as he set his bag down and made his was inside to where he heard the sound of the washer running in the laundry room.

There, he spotted Irina frantically trying to gain control of a rather foamy situation. Scotty had to stifle his laughter. Yes, it was a mess. But it was an easy one to clean up. How she got herself in that position, he could only guess, but Scotty announced his presence by reaching past Irina and pushing his way through the spin cycle options until the washer began to drain and the door would unlock. He didn’t even question what had happened; he simply grinned at Irina and said,      “I’ll go grab the mop.”

In her panic, she didn’t notice Scotty had come back until he was right beside her. She looked up at him, the pain evident in her face before watching him press some buttons and hearing the machine start to drain. She stood there for a moment, “how the bloody hell did you do that so fast?” she asked, following him out the door, leaving a small trail of bubbles behind her, “and can you show me please? I don’t want it to happen again. I swear this thing has something against me.”

[ofxeden]

@scottykerouac

Closing the door of the washing machine, Irina made sure it was tightly shut before turning it on. She hadn’t used this type of one before and hoped she put the detergent in the right place. Perching up on the side she sat and started reading her book, letting the hum drum of the machine become white noise to her mind as she delved into the world on the page. That was until she became a little hungry and got some snacks and a cuppa.

Once the kettle was boiled and the tea was brewed Irina started making her way back to the laundry room. A familiar smell wafted through the air, it reminder her of home, specifically when it was her dad’s turn to do laundry. Then she realised what that meant. “No, no, no, no!” she said, walking as fast as she could without spilling her tea before being confronted with a room starting to fill with bubbles. She waded her way through and met the culprit her eyes wide and movements jerky in a panic to try and figure out which button to press. “Help,” she mumbled to herself, not knowing what to do.

[ofxeden]

Kinda wanna make an rp blog for Shuri from Black Panther?

[incorrectblackpantherquotes]

Don’t follow this blog if you ship Shuri with anyone in Black Panther. She’s 16 and literally everyone else are adults. Block me too.

[leadkiss]

i know there are a lot of people out there who like to pretend writing nazis and slave owners and pedophiles in roleplay is the same thing as writing them in books and on television but let me tell ya: IT IS NOT. there is one key fucking difference between writing (see: glorifying) these characters in an rp setting and writing them in a published medium of fiction. the difference is that roleplaying is a social hobby. you are not writing in a “contained” narrative, so to speak (though i’d like to make it clear that either way, fiction/media does not exist in a vacuum and people who write these types in books/tv/etc frequently fuck it up). 

you can cry “censorship” and bring up canon characters for comparison all you like, but your comparison is a false equivalency. for one, no one is violating your freedom of fucking speech. we’re not government officials silencing you, we’re regular citizens calling you out for doing something supremely fucked up and you don’t want to acknowledge how fucked up it is. for another, you’re writing in a social sphere across from other people and the way you write and discuss your character has an immediate social effect. it resonates. it ripples. 

because this is a social hobby on a social media website on the goddamn internet, your actions and behaviors are subject to social critique. if you write a character whose existence reflects and impacts the struggles and suffering of minorities, you are going to be held responsible for it. no amount of hemming and hawing about what “professional writers” are doing and “censorship” and what the fuck ever is going to change the fact that you are taking these characters out of context and humanizing people you have no goddamn business humanizing. 

and if you want to write a character whose real life counterparts are literal fucking monsters, be prepared for people to question why you insist on doing so—especially if you’re gonna talk about them ooc like they’re normal fucking people. 

[ofxeden]

scottykerouac mentioned you in a post

only @ ofxeden and @riskbled know bran….i’m…

yessss bring him on over!

[butteryplanet]

my instagram with cinemagraphs

[deaths-teaset]

Reblog if you would notice if I deactivated my account.

[the-sweet-life-ja]

Fire Pot Restaurant

[ofxeden]

@scottykerouac

It was early in the morning, Irina had been walking somewhere, her destination didn’t matter now, it was the events of the journey that would define her day. The day was grey; the sky, the buildings, the weather, the atmosphere, it reminded her of a dull day at home. Not many people were around, ‘who would want to go out on a day like this?’ she thought as she turned the corner, before abruptly being faced with a scene of violence. There was a mashed up car with no one in sight apart from a man limply hanging out the door, all blooded and bruised.

Most people at this point would be shocked but Irina had seen things like this before and ran to help the man without hesitation. Her mind blocked out everything that was happening, her hearing dulled as her body took over, almost as if it were muscle memory. Everything was a blur, she tried to use magic to heal the man’s wounds before being interrupted. Irina realised she couldn’t help in muggle ways and quietly removed herself from the scene, allowing others to help instead.

As she walked, everything became too bright and too loud for her to handle. The rubble of the crash reminded her of the rubble of Hogwarts and seeing that man reminded her of how many people got hurt that day, she just needed to get somewhere safe. Irina blanked out, letting her mind do the work for her and ended up at Scotty’s door, bloodied and crying, a physical representation of how she felt inside. She knocked rapidly, hoping he was in.