#It was December 1990

[taxi-davis]

Whitewoods - Hey Ha

[kidcore-nostalgia]

[90ssmut2]

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Alice In Chains - Bleed The Freak (Live at Moore Theatre) (1990)

[internatlvelvet]

Guess. US Vogue. December 1993.

[todaysdocument]

The Vietnam Womens Memorial on the Mall

Record Group 330: Records of the Office of the Secretary of DefenseSeries: Combined Military Service Digital Photographic Files

Photograph of the Womens Vietnam Memorial in Washington, DC, taken at night.  The sculpture shows four figures.  A standing woman in military fatigues looks up at the sky while one had reaches behind her to touch another woman who is nursing a wounded soldier.  The fourth figure is just visible kneeling behind the other two women.  Behind the sculpture, the Washington Monument is visible.

[erineverly]

#           𝒓𝒄𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅           ;           continued from here.

❝   axl?   ❞   erin  calls  out  for  what  feels  like  the  hundredth  time  even  as  her  throat  begins  to  close  in  on  her,  dainty  hand  carefully  pushing  the  door  to  the  master  bedroom  ajar.  she  hesitates,  lingers  in  the  threshold  and  struggles  to  calm  down  her  racing  heart.  she’s  beyond  terrified  of  what  might  await  her  inside.  it’s  three  in  the  morning.  the  clock  is  still  ticking  in  the  distance.  tick.  tick.  tick.  and  even  children  know  that  all  horrible  things  always  happen  at  three  in  the  morning.  this  house  smells  like  death  —  the  thought  crosses  her  mind  involuntarily  and  refuses  to  leave.  the  air  is  stale  and  there’s  something  dark,  sinister  lingering  in  it.   ❝   @rcsechild?  i’m  coming  in,  okay?   ❞   maybe  he’s  asleep,  like  most  people  would  be  at  this  ungodly  hour,  and  that’s  why  he’s  not  answering,  and  she’s  just  so  paranoid.  

but  as  she  steps  inside,  she  finds  the  room’s  been  abandoned.  much  like  the  living  room,  the  dining  room,  kitchen,  pantry,  downstairs  bathroom…  pale  moonlight  pouring  in  through  the  tall  windows  being  the  only  source  of  light  because  she  hasn’t  yet  mustered  enough  courage  to  turn  on  the  bedside  lamp.  large  shadows  dancing  between  moonbeams,  pretending  to  be  what  they’re  not  and  sending  chills  down  her  spine.  it’s  like  a  dream,  she  thinks,  a  nightmare.  everything’s  so  vivid  and  real,  and  yet  it  almost  feels  like  she’s  standing  beside  her  own  body,  watching  it  unfold  while  having  absolutely  no  control  over  what  happens  next.  she’s  growing  numb  because  she’s  had  this  feeling  all  night,  keeping  her  wide  awake  —  not  that  she’d  manage  to  sleep  otherwise,  she  doesn’t  remember  the  last  time  she  got  more  than  two  hours  of  undisturbed  rest.  a  voice  in  the  back  of  her  head  telling  her  to  go  check  on  her  husband.  legally,  he’s  still  her  husband.  their  lawyers  have  already  drawn  up  divorce  papers,  but  they  remain  unsigned.  at  least  on  her  end.  why?  she  can’t  explain  it. 

pale  blue  eyes  scan  the  area  reluctantly,  having  already  adjusted  to  the  dark.  what  is  she  looking  for?  a  gun?  a  noose?  traces  of  blood?  his  feet  sticking  from  the  closet?  but  the  room  is  empty.  the  only  thing  that  she  finds  is  an  envelope,  and  for  a  brief  second  it  almost  feels  like  relief.  that  is  until  her  brain  reminds  her  that  most  people  who  commit  suicide  usually  leave  goodbye  notes…  her  hands  begin  to  shake  as  she  picks  up  the  envelope  and  turns  it  over.  she  lifts  the  unsealed  flap  and  pulls  out  a  single  folded  sheet  of  plain  white  paper.  she  doesn’t  really  want  to  read  it.  part  of  her  is  tempted  to  rip  it  apart,  stand  up  and  run  for  the  door,  never  look  back  again.  but  before  she  can  stop  herself,  her  fingers  are  already  unfolding  the  paper,  gaze  landing  on  familiar  handwriting  as  her  body  sinks  into  the  mattress.  she  reads  it,  every  single  word.  once,  twice,  three  times…  over  and  over  and  over  again.  the  tremor  in  her  hands  increases  and  she  has  to  lower  them,  place  them  in  her  lap  to  stop  the  letter  from  flapping  about  in  front  of  her  eyes,  giving  her  an  even  bigger  headache.  she  smooths  it  out,  smearing  droplets  of  water  across  the  paper.  water?  but  —  she  begins  to  hyperventilate,  not  even  realizing  that  there’s  tears  running  down  her  cheeks.  the  ink  spreads  and  words  blur  as  more  teardrops  roll  down  her  face  and  fall  onto  the  letter.

for  the  last  goodbye…  he’s  killed  himself.  he  must  have  finally  done  it.  that’s  why  he’s  not  answering  her.  she’s  come  here  but  it’s  too  late.  it  dawns  on  her  all  at  once,  that  feeling  she’s  been  having…  a  person  knows  what  the  other  half  of  their  soul  departs  —  he’s  gone.  she  so  selfishly  left  him,  a  broken,  suffering  shell  of  a  man,  blamed  it  all  on  him  and  he’s  ended  it.  it’s  all  her  fault.  she  couldn’t  be  the  wife  that  he  deserved,  couldn’t  love  him  how  he  needed  to  be  loved.  she’s  read  countless  of  letters  written  by  him,  but  not  one  has  ever  sounded  this  final.  she  folds  it  and  tries  to  put  it  back  in  the  envelope,  but  her  hands  are  trembling  too  much  and  all  she  manages  to  do  is  cut  the  pad  of  her  fingertip  on  the  sharp  edge.  she  gives  up,  crumples  it  and  tucks  it  into  the  pocket  of  her  jeans.  her  mind’s  switched  off,  and  her  body’s  acting  on  its  own  accord,  moving  almost  automatically.  her  legs  are  weak,  trembling  as  she  stands  up,  as  if  they  were  made  of  jello.  he’s  here  somewhere…  and  suddenly  she  thinks  she  knows  exactly  where.  the  one  room  that  she  hasn’t  set  a  foot  in  since  that  halloween  night.  shiloh  or  willow’s  nursery.  and  god  does  she  dread  going  there… 

[machetelanding]

[frachive]

insignificant here

[bikinikillarchives]

BIKNI KILL'S FIRST (official/non-party) "SHOW": December 30, 1990 at the North Shore Surf Club, Olympia, WA. early Unwound, Giant Henry, opened for L7 and Outspoken, alongside Fitz of Depression; as a three-piece at the time, BK (Kathleen, Kathi, Tobi) unannounced joined Giant Henry onstage and used their gear to play one song. this is considered BK's first show by both Tobi and Kathi. EDIT: possible photos from this show are here!

[kidcore-nostalgia]

1990s Lego holiday catalogs 🎅🏻

[90ssmut2]

[lonestarflight]

"The various components of the Astro-1 payload are seen backdropped against the blue and white Earth in this 35mm scene photographed through Columbia's aft flight deck windows. Parts of the Hopkins Ultraviolet Telescope (HUT), Ultraviolet Imaging Telescope (UIT) and the Wisconsin Ultraviolet Photo-Polarimeter Experiment (WUPPE) are visible on the Spacelab Pallet in the foreground. The Broad Band X-Ray Telescope (BBXRT) is behind this pallet and is not visible in this scene. The smaller cylinder in the foreground is the "Igloo," which is a pressurized container housing the Command and Data Management System, which interfaces with the in-cabin controllers to control the Instrument Pointing System (IPS) and the telescopes."

NASA ID: STS035-13-008

Date: December 2-10, 1990

[digitalfountains]

Joan Severance by Michel Comte

- Max France, December 1990

[shannendoherty-fans]

Shannen Doherty portrayed by Wayne Stambler for the December 1991 issue of Seventeen magazine.

[todaysdocument]

Photograph of Tracy Chapman and Eric Clapton Performing at a White House Special Olympics Dinner

Collection WJC-WHPO: Photographs of the White House Photograph Office (Clinton Administration)Series: Photographs Relating to the Clinton Administration

This color photograph shows singers Tracy Chapman and Eric Clapton on stage performing.  Both are standing at microphones and holding guitars.  In the background there are small lights and gossamer fabrics decorating the stage.