#:[P&E]:

[railwayhistorical]

Eastbound at IJ Tower

Here's an eastbound job at the tower, and it has an F-unit in the consist, which I'm sure would have thrilled me at the time. If the number 1681, that's an F7 built in 1950 for the NYC.

While this resembles the Penn Central, Conrail is three months old; this train is on the former New York Central (Big Four). IJ Tower is one mile west of Indianapolis Union Station according to a mile marker here. The B&O and P&E joins the NYC for the run to the station, and the Pennsy is running parallel to all just to the south. I'll add a map in here to show the lay of the land.

Two images by Richard Koenig; taken June 30th 1976.

[annikavelde]

{.833.}

.:ANATOMY:. Head: Lelutka - Ceylon Body: Ebody- Reborn Hair: MIWAS - Wavie *NEW* @ Equal10 Fingers: Aii&Ego - Demonic Touch - Fingers Arm smears: Deadboy - Fear of God Hands Body Smears: THIS IS WRONG - 13 Face Drips: NecroNoir - Deranged Makeup *NEW* @ Disturbed

.:CLOTHING:. Bodysuit: P&E - Vanuri Bodysuit *NEW* @ The Warehouse Sale Shackles: HAZEL - Spellbound Shackles *NEW* @ The Warehouse Sale

.:SCENE:. Background: PALETO - Sanctified *NEW* @ The Warehouse Sale Pose: Mirinae - Shikzuka

[heyitsphoenixx]

no one talk to me ever again I have died one hundred times over

[pepperandeuphoria]

7

Neziz and Jenine had picked up Mikey on their way home from the party. He was in the back seat, staring at his missing leg, which his mother said was the only thing he did anymore. “It hurts a lot,” he said, “even though it’s not there anymore I can still feel it. I can feel the tissue dying even though it’s in the hospital in the medical waste bin.”

“That sounds terrifying,” replied Neziz. Jenine said nothing because she was passed out in the back seat. Mikey and Neziz were trying to stay awake on the road, hoping they could get back before 4 a.m, even though Grapevine was still a good 3 hours away. Neziz’s eyes had a thin ceramic glaze covering them.

“What have you heard about it, Neziz?” Mikey asked.

“Well, I mean I’ve heard some stuff. Do you really wanna talk about it?” 

“No one will talk to me about it. They all just want me to forget about it. As if I could.”

“I’ve heard one thing. Did you text Kenny Larson that you were going to kill yourself before you did it?”

Mikey stared at the passing headlights. He remembered when he used to live with his mom full time, back when he was a teenager, and driving this stretch just to hang out with Neziz and Jenine. “Yeah,” he said, “when I started to feel the tracks vibrate I texted him. You know, he ruined my life.”

“Did he?” Neziz replied, getting into the same old argument she has a hundred times, “I mean, it was really that injury wasn’t it?”

“He caused that injury. Before the game he wore down the cleats with sandpaper so I would slip easier. That fucking game. Did you hear that I caught him with my gear before the game? He wanted my spot on the team and the coach wouldn’t let him because he knew I was better than that fucking flatfoot Kenny Larson.” Mikey’s chest heaved. 

Neziz didn’t reply to this and changed the subject, “So what have you been doing since you got out of surgery?”

Mikey sat and looked at the street signs passing. He thought for a second about whether or not he should keep talking or if he even wanted to be in the car anymore. Eventually he replied, “I guess not much. I’ve got a wheelchair now. I mostly just sit in the wheelchair and smoke a lot of cigarettes. I’m under like suicide watch at my house. My mom hid all the knives and my dad came and picked up all his old guns and ammo so I can’t use them anymore. To be honest there’s not much to do there. I get drunk. I do that a lot. But I did that a lot before too.”

“I’m sorry so much shit is going on,” Neziz said to him. She couldn’t understand the last few things he said, she was dozing to a Shitkid track. 

“It’s not your fault. I guess maybe I shouldn’t talk about it so much. Maybe I should try and just forget about it. Try and move on.”

“Maybe. Does talking about it make you feel better?”

“No.”

[diorjordyn]

Nurture Your Goddess Energy 🐚

Unorthodox- Volume Hair | Mainstore :[P&E]:- Ariendel | Mainstore

[cattakattywampus]

HANGING ON THE EDGE OF TOMORROOWWWW

[ryllen]

T A L L PE OPLE D I E .

[doloresinslacks]

[eternvlsound]

Neon street lights to guide you home

ig: space.ram

[shouyuus]

something about vi being a naturally touchy person.

she needs to be touching you constantly, always just a hand on your thigh when you're sitting together, an ankle hooked over yours when you're lounging in bed, her arms linked around your waist when you're in the kitchen, her chin hooked over your shoulder. when you're not there, it's fine, but when you are, there's not a second where she's not brushing up against you, a palm at the small of your back, reaching up to brush your cheek, to tug you closer to her by the waistband of your skirt.

at the bar, laughing with a rowdy group of friends, but she's got you slotted between her legs, her hand cupped round your hip, thumb teasing at the skin just beneath your shirt. and it's not like she's trying for anything either, she just likes the contact, likes to have you close, likes the weight of you near her, the smell of your skin, the rumbling echoes of your laughter when you lean against her chest, or casually soften into her one-armed embrace.

sure, you get teased for all the pda sometimes but it's not like anyone can get a word in edgewise with vi around. all it takes is a single tick of her eyebrow for whoever's making the joke to throw up their hands and take half a step back, claiming that they didn't mean anything by it.

"not like i blame you for bein' jealous though," vi says, smirking as she leans back against the bar counter, her free hand tossing back the rest of her drink, smacking her lips as she pulls you into her just a little bit tighter. you turn your head, blissfully unaware of the potential contentious encounter happening right behind your back, but vi only smiles, her whole face softening as you shoot her a questioning look.

"it's nothin' sweetness. just..." she glances back at the friend who'd made the comment, your eyes following the trajectory of her gaze, "just a little friendly banter," she says, tugging your chin towards her till your eyes slip back to focus on her face, her other hand still drawing circles against your hip bone with her thumb, "nothing for you to worry your pretty little head over."

she presses a kiss to your lips, purposefully licking into your mouth so that you pull away panting, lashes fluttering, pupils blown dark in the dim rowdiness of the bar.

"mm," she hums, cocking her head as she watches the way your eyes jump back down to her lips, the color high in your cheeks, your fingers fisting in the front of her tanktop, "or maybe we can call it a night, yeah? go home and..." she shoots a furtive, vindictive look at the friend who'd made the off-handed comment; he looks away, frowning even as vi looks back at you, her voice raising in volume as she says, "get handsy where people can't see, hm?"

[wistfulwatcher]

3.09 Bulletproof | 4.09 A Slippery Slope

[donttellunclesam]

new holiday pfp!!

[pepperandeuphoria]

6

Sharon and Sharice didn’t spend much time upstairs. They stuck around in the smoking room. There was a carpet couch and a white rug stained gray on the floor. Sharon was taking a hit of the joint they were sharing, which was rolled with delta 8 flower they got from a local no-card smoke shop. Sharon began to remark “I don’t know how I lived before I got high.”

“Yeah,” Sharice replied, “I feel you.”

Sharon passed the joint to her sister, “It really just makes everything make that much more sense. I feel like my brain is a disease and weed is the medicine.”

“Yeah,” Sharice replied, “I feel you.”

“I feel like no one else understands me, you know, like that I need this shit to make my brain function,” Sharon continued.

“Yeah,” Sharice replied, “I feel you.”

“You’re really easy to talk to,” Sharon said.

“Yeah,” Sharice replied, flashing a grin. Her eyes blinked in cold slits. 

Sharon got the joint back from her sister and began to smoke it again. “I wonder how Neziz is doing. Do you think she’s gonna move out soon? I feel like she’s only staying nowadays because she doesn’t want me to get her room. Like, I know she knows I want her room, it’s obvious that I want her room, I’ve wanted her room since I was like 10 or something. But she’s just such a bitch that she wants to keep it from me. And she’s always going on about work and shit. Like, I get it, you don’t want to work, but maybe like, you have to? Like maybe it’s a thing you just gotta fucking do. But that’s just an excuse. Really she just wants that fucking room and she doesn’t wanna give it to me because she’s had it out for my whole life. God, I swear I could just fucking kill her sometimes. But I know how that would hurt Jenine. And mom probably. Even though mom probably hates her more than I do by this point.”

“Yeah,” Sharice replied, “she’s a real bitch sometimes.” Sharice felt that feeling in her chest again.

Sharon passed the joint back to her sister and the two of them sat back in the couch. The walls were painted orange and there was a slow haze which encapsulated the room. It moved only to accept more of itself, a self-replicating organism. 

There was a small window at the top of the north wall in the smoking room and although it was covered in fogged glass, Sharon was just barely able to see flashing blue and red lights. 

“Shit,” Sharon said,” we gotta smell proof quick. Hide this shit. The fucking cops are here.” 

Sharon and Sharice scrambled to hide the shit they had in their room, and they heard the rush of footsteps upstairs.

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[diorjordyn]

Melting into The Sunset

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:[P&E]:- Varavia | Fameshed

[carbon-fiber-internal-organs]

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