#cxrasinus

*just realized something important about herself as an RPer*

When I am given asks by people I’ve never interacted with before, I really love the opportunity to do so. owo

However...

I also get fairly confused/stuck with certain memes. (some of them require a preexisting relationship to some degree with our muses for them to make enough sense for me to properly reply to the best of my abilities- also the reason why crack RPing might need a lot more planning with me than usual)

I have this obsessive need for perfection. Not in anyone or anything else, but in myself. I will take weeks at a time on a single art project. Threads take me months to respond to. I actually failed my digital art class last year because of this. 

I do my best to find out how your muse acts/your rules/headcanons before I reply to your asks, but sometimes I just can’t find anything that will stop me from stepping on any toes. ^^’ Some reassurance in that area would be wonderful, honestly.

So, in short, this is the reason I have dusty old threads from other RPers I really wanna continue, but really also wanna match their quality and don’t feel like I can just hammer out good replies. I’m really, really sorry, and I’m trying my best to come up with something to match your incredible talents, as well as busy with things going on in my life. 

[x]

                    “Excuse me?”

He didn’t know how to respond to that statement; he had never had anyone say such nonsense to him. Though as he stared down at the crimson mech, a jolt of a terrifyingly unknown emotion pierced his spark.

          He was right: the commander’s life did ‘suck’.

Send me “&” for my muse’s reaction to yours tracing one of their scars.

♔|| The cherry red Autobot groaned and hid his face against the arm, that rested across the bar. He didn’t dare look up at the bartender, but hardly out of fear of the wrath he faced. No, the overcharged speedster feared movement would result in purging his tanks.

      “M’sorry,” he croaked out, using his free servo to paw in the direction he thought the other was. “I jus’ – he said I couldn’t do it. Had to prove ‘im wrong.”

    The bar was empty aside from two figures; one slender bartender leaning against the counter, scowling at a youth that had no business being so utterly wasted. He wanted to scold him, to tell him that this was just the beginning of what would be Hell -- morning would hold agony and bitter purging of tanks.