#racetracktm

[fightsbck]

‘    yer’ really alright with just spendin’ our night drinkin’ wine and watchin’ bad movies ?   ’    /   from spot for @racetracktm​ !

   soft one-liner sc,   no longer accepting.

[heavytm]

‘ say anything! say whatever’s natural. ’

THIS IS HEAVY!   /    ACCEPTING !    :     @racetracktm

        he knew he wouldn’t be        able  to  hang  around  the  newsies  for  long  before  the  spotlight  eventually  drifted  to  him.      marty’s  classic  orange  jacket  that  did  little  to  lower  his  inconspicuousness  has  been   ditched   in  favor  for  a  few  clothes  from  race’s  wardrobe.        he  tugs  at  a  loose  thread  as  they  walk  busily  down  the  sidewalk,   babbling  at  the  other  boy  who’s  babbling  back  just  as  fast.        at  a  first  glance,   they  look  like  men  on  a  mission.        marty  puts  a  little  more  pep  in  his  step  so  passerby  don’t  have  time  to  look  twice.

       “   -   they’re  not  gonna  buy  it  !          i  haven’t  even  had  time  to  practice  my  accent  yet.   ”        he  complains.       in  frustration  at  the  hand  of  race’s  persistence,    marty  tries  his  best  to  adopt  a  rapid  fire  new  york  squawk.       “   uhhhhh,  pa   -   don’t  rush  me   -  gimme  that  papesie  !        isn’t  that  a  thing  you  guys say  ?         PAPESIE  ?    “    

[pulitzher]

shit, shit, shit. they’re in so much trouble.   she grabs race’s arm,  turns him towards him and stares him straight in the eye.   katherine can be convincing when she wants to be,  and right now she’s trying her very best to convince both him and herself that’s she’s cool.   totally cool.      ❝   if we both stick to the story,  they can’t prove anything.   ❞

@racetracktm​ sent  💬  for a random dialogue starter   /   accepting.

[kjerleik-a]

       ❛ I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE GONNA SAY ———- ❜   A beat. She takes a deep breath.   ❛ I’m the new kid and I can’t sit with you, but there aren’t any other available tables and the cleaning lady said I couldn’t eat my lunch in the stalls anymore like I usually do so ——- this is my LAST OPTION. Can I just sit here, for today? I promise I’ll be as quiet as a mouse! ❜

SC  /  @racetracktm

[stagnot]

don't matter the blog you are a marvelous talent and a most wonderful friend and inspiring human and icon and i love u alwaaaaaaaaaays 💛💛💛

i’d give up an arm for you

[andryuska]

@racetracktm // continued.

he groans and leans back in ‘s chair. “’f course ‘ya would! no one else would, but, ‘f course  ⸺  ” stoppin’ in the middle of his sentence to hide a laugh behind ‘s hand, the situation’s so ludicrously in character for andrei ( and for race, bein’ a little offended and humoured at the same time ) that’s shouldn’t be so damn funny, but, well, ‘t somehow is. ‘s hard to catch andrei in any other situation, somethin’ that ain’t includin’ a text book, or other non-fictional thing, in front ‘f ‘m and with those deep and stressed lines on his forehead, makin’ ‘m a good five years older than he actually ‘s. ‘t seems like most days andrei’s unable to wire ‘mself anything else, all academia and stress and needin’ to get this done as well and fast as possible. like he’s runnin’ a race. ‘t’s a damn shame, to be frank, but he also don’t need to do it. family duty and all’s so outdated, ‘t shouldn’t matter anyway.

yet race can’t help but see the humour in their situation, ‘dis usual dance of ‘m tryin’ to get andrei ‘way from his seat to at least breathe some fresh air ‘nstead of meltin’ into his library seat like he’s hot glue and the wood’s actually paper. him budgin’ and annoyin’ andrei for at least ten minutes before he plans his retreat, sometimes the russian could be so damn well stoic that ‘t seemed impossible to get anythin’ out’ta ‘m, but sometimes race’s lucky and gets at least some grumbled responses to ‘s attempts. ‘s the little victories, but victories all the same!

“you’se no fun sometimes, yeah? but i don’t think’s healthy to stare at your books all damn day, ‘s bad for your eyes. ‘ya better believe me, i’s got glasses and all to prove ‘t,” he goes on, motionin’ to ‘s own face. “c’mon, andrei. ‘ya can finish that chapter tonight or, like, tomorrow. live a little or do ‘ya wanna die of inhaling too much dust?”

FRUSTRATION  IS  NOT  CONCEALED  when brown hues lift to the other across from him, who has, if anything, slowed his progress through the chapter. pen hovers above the notes he has already scrawled, and he looks above his own glasses to race, interrupted again.

of course, he knows it’s been hours, and that they have done what studying they had set out to do and then some. he knows that his own limbs are stiff, and his stomach growls with familiar emptiness ( he has no time to bother with it, ) and his wrist aches from the pressure of writing. and still, the thought of abandoning these studies rallies within a sense of dreading incompleteness : he feels, perpetually, as though he has not done enough. as though with every break he takes, his duty to his family is left unfulfilled. race is not expected to understand, but that is no excuse for andrei to shirk his obligation.

lungs fill with air and dust both, and the scent of paper has become so familiar that it goes unnoticed. his father’s voice is in the back of his head, a part of him ( a terrifying, permanent fate, branded into his soul by the virtue of that cold upbringing ) and it is telling him that he should stay ---- that he ought to tell race he’ll catch up to him later, or on some other day. the library is more a home than his dorm room, especially as exams approach, and he has always attached to such places. why drink, or eat? why live, when there is reading to do?

“ i’d rather die of inhaling too much dust than get myself killed for some bad mark. my father would rather death than dishonor. ” not that such a thing is a risk ---- his grades are stubbornly high, but that does not come without a great deal of stress and effort. “ what would you suppose we do anyway? you know i’ve no interest in whatever our peers like to do on friday nights. you might even benefit from reading a few more chapters, in fact. ”

[notaqvaman-a-blog]

@racetracktm :  // cont. 

“‘s what ‘ya say to all the boys?” the teasing tone is apparent, a dead give-away to the mocking nature of the answer. but he ain’t ever been in the poseidon cabin, so blue eyes take a curiouslook around. what’s the first thing to notice is how empty ‘t is compared to the cramped cabin he’s livin’ in half of the year. somehow, so much air to breathe feels unusual; welcome, but unusual. race ain’t really sure what to do. he takes the unlit cigarette out of his mouth as he turns back to percy. “i mean, you’s really scrawny for all the shit we hear ‘bout ‘ya, yeah? where’s all the fun hidden away, huh?”

breathes softly with a cracked smile, as his green eyes aren't looking directly to him. hides his hands on the jacket ' the great son of one of big three  ! everyone is counting on you. watching you. ' percy doesn't want this attention. he just wants his home, his mom. why it's always that hard ? why he can't be normal ?     those thoughts were haunting or eating him alive sometimes, but managed to kept all of this inside. the short estance of hermes' cabin felt almost like he was starting to belong somewhere but      again, ' percy, get out ! ' this shitty privilege. he blinks, returning back to his friend. at least, he had him. something real. “ yeah , you can come here anytime. ” could felt he was craving someone around, but it was better to not let it show too much. somehow switched his smile to more goofy. “ first rule, you smoke outside. c'mon, the lake is the hidden fun. ” percy moves foward, once he closed the door, to pass to the small bay of the lake and his own petit habor.

[rosewatercounty]

starter ∟@racetracktm

❛ yeah, ducks do. but who the hell cares what ducks do?  ❜