#the book was 1973

[mourningmaybells]

something strange was happening in 1973- i mean 2016

[cultreslut]

a dedication written on the inside of the front cover of my copy of crash by jg ballard

[TRANSCRIPT: Susan - I'm going to miss working along side you. Let's keep in touch. I hope you enjoy this book. You always like the weird shit! - Issac]

[ceofjohnlennon]

Never-before-seen pictures of John Lennon eating cornflakes in Cambridge for the first International Feminist Conference, June, 1973. — From the book "MIND GAMES: Thames & Hudson"

Pre-order your own book now! ♡

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

SPOILED FOR SOME OF THE BEST DUST JACKET COVER ART IN FANTASY HISTORY.

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on 1962 dust jacket cover art for Swedish and Finnish editions of the "The Hobbit." The same artwork was later used for the 1973 and 2012 editions of the beloved fantasy/children's book written by J.R.R. Tolkien.

Artwork by Finnish-Swedish artist, Tove Jansson, most famous for her creation of internationally beloved children’s characters, the Moomins.

Resolution at 2056x2055 & 800x1138.

Sources: www.openculture.com/2021/09/tove-jansson-beloved-creator-of-the-moomins-illustrates-the-hobbit.html & X.

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

Susan Dickinson (editor) - Ghostly Experiences - Armada/Lions - 1973

[comic-covers]

(1973)

[ebongawk]

the first time chrissy breaks smth at the trailer, maybe one of wayne’s mugs or smth, she’s spiraling like it’s the end of the world while eddie is like ???? baby things break all the time is this what living at the cunninghams is like

Crash!

Eddie jumped to his feet, snuffing his half-smoked cigarette and tripping over their hastily discarded clothes to grab boxers and rush toward the kitchen. Chrissy had just gotten up, pulling on his t-shirt with a shy smile over her shoulder after saying she wanted a glass of water. Eddie offered to get it (especially since her knees didn't seem to, uh, want to work properly, not that he was being particularly smug about that) but Chrissy insisted that she needed to stretch her legs.

Swinging around the doorway to the kitchen, he found Chrissy standing in the middle of the floor surrounded by tiny shrapnel shards of a mug. Sharp little landmines just waiting to dig into unsuspecting toes.

"Ah, shit," Eddie breathed, trying to assess the best path to her. "Don't–– Don't move, sweetness, one second, let me––"

He rushed into the living room before she could respond, yanking his Reeboks on and nearly falling on his ass when he tried to jump up too quickly. Laughing at himself, he walked back into the kitchen, trying to avoid the bulk of the ceramic and cringing at every slight crunch under his soles. Chrissy hadn't moved, her eyes down like she, too, was searching for a pathway among the mess.

"Alright, uh, just––" He hoisted her easily into his arms, protecting her bare feet by carrying her like Princess Buttercup through the fire swamp. Depositing her in the hallway, Eddie ducked past her, grabbing the broom and dustpan from the pantry. "Lemme clean this up, alright? You can, uh, go back to the bedroom if you want? I'll bring you some water."

Chrissy didn't look at him. She kept her eyes down, and Eddie followed her gaze, searching her skin for any small cuts he hadn't noticed.

"Fuck, baby, you alright?" he asked, crouching down by her legs, rapt eyes searching for specks of blood. He carefully lifted one foot, making sure her heel was intact before setting it down and inspecting the other. He looked up at her, wrapping his hands loosely around her knees. "Are you hurt?"

Chrissy still wasn't looking at him when she shook her head. Eyes shut tight, head turned resolutely away from him as Eddie slowly rose to standing. His palms climbed from her knees to her hips to her waist on the way up, and he squeezed gently.

"C'mon," he said softly, not quite understanding what was happening but hoping he sounded reassuring. Urging her back a step, he eased her into turning toward his bedroom. "Go sit, yeah? I'll be back in a minute."

Still silent, Chrissy turned and practically ran back into the bedroom. Eddie blinked after her for a moment before turning to the task at hand, grabbing the broom and carefully sweeping up the debris. Making sure to get all the corners under the cabinets to avoid any later mishaps.

He threw the pieces into a paper food bag before throwing them in the garbage to hopefully prevent anything from piercing the plastic. Smacking his shoes a couple of times over the can, he tossed those aside before grabbing another mug of water and walking back into his bedroom to see if Chrissy was okay.

She was dressed in her own clothes, quietly gathering up her belongings and folding them back into her overnight bag. Eddie stopped, feeling his heart seize in his chest. Ice slithered up his back, cold tendrils like fingers wrapping around his spine and holding him in place for a long, breathless moment.

Was she leaving?

"Chrissy?"

Back to him, Chrissy froze, her makeup bag hovered over her backpack.

"I'll, um," she began, her voice thick. Clearing her throat a little, she tried again. "I can, um, drop some money off for the mug later."

What?

"What?" Eddie asked, trying to shake off the glaciers wrapped around his ankles with a cautious step toward her. "Why would you do that? Baby, it's just a mug. Dunno if you noticed but, uh, Wayne has about a million of them."

"But I––" Her voice was heavy with tears. Whirling around, Chrissy dropped the makeup bag in her hand to the floor, looking up at Eddie for the first time as tears spilled down her cheeks. "But I broke it, Eddie. I was careless and I dropped it. I-I didn't mean to, I swear, I just––"

"Whoa, hey, hey." Breaking out of his hesitation, Eddie crossed the room, gently cupping her cheeks in his hands and wiping her tears away. She met his gaze, her big blue eyes swimming. A storm settling over the ocean. "Sweetness, it's okay. It's just a mug. I'm just happy you're not hurt, alright?"

"B-B-But you even offered to get it, and––"

"And it doesn't matter," he insisted, ducking to grab her attention when her eyes wandered away in shame. "I couldn't give less of a fuck about a broken mug if I tried, okay? It's just a mug."

Collapsing against his chest, Chrissy took in a hitched breath and let out a great sob. Eddie held her close, letting her cry her upset into his bare skin. One hand wrapped around her waist and the other buried in her hair. She clutched at him, fingers digging into his back like she was terrified he was going to change his mind and decide he was angry.

What in the fuck went on at the Cunningham household that would make her respond like this?

After about a minute, her cries quieted, though her shoulders still trembled against him. Eddie kissed her temple, lips tracking down to her cheek before he pulled back far enough to wipe the remainder of her tears away.

"Will Wayne be mad?" she asked, her voice small and her eyes so terribly scared.

"Nah," Eddie reassured her. "Wayne probably won't even notice it's missing."

Fuck, that was the wrong thing to say. Her face crumpled, eyes filling all over again.

"We have to tell him!" Chrissy cried. "W-We can't hide it, Eddie, what if he finds out and gets even more mad––"

"Hey," Eddie cooed softly, trying to keep his voice from quavering with the anger that suddenly surged. Not at her, of course, never at her, but what the fuck was wrong with her family? "We'll tell him, yeah? But I swear, baby, he's not gonna be mad. It's just a thing." Gently urging her chin back, Eddie looked her directly in the eye when he said, "Things break all the time. That's a fact of, like, general product ownership."

"But," Chrissy whispered, falling back into his chest. "But what about the set?"

"Uh. What?"

"The set. The set of mugs. It'll be incomplete now." She looked at him again. "Do you know where I can buy a replacement?"

Eddie blinked at her. "I'm, uh, pretty sure that was, like, a novelty mug he got at a truck stop. It's not part of a set."

Her bottom lip warbled. "So it was important to him? A memory?"

"God, Chrissy, no," Eddie couldn't help it – he had to laugh a little. Gently, he eased her down onto the bed, sitting beside her and pulling her halfway across his lap. "And even if it was? It's not important enough to throw a fit over if it gets broken. It's just stuff, baby, they're just things." He shook his head, resting his chin on her crown when she snuggled into him. "You can't own stuff without expecting to lose or break it, that's not how accidents work. I've broken probably two dozen mugs in my lifetime."

Her voice was so, so incredibly small when she asked, "So you don't want me to leave?"

"Baby, you can stay the rest of your life if you want," Eddie vowed, his voice laced in jest but meaning every goddamn word. "Or, y'know, just until we get the hell out of this town."

He felt the slight curl of her smile where her cheek was pressed over his heart. Wondering if she could hear the new uptick through the wall of his chest.

"I-I'm sorry. I just... I didn't want you to yell at me."

Taking a slow, deep breath, Eddie closed his eyes to keep from cussing out the phantom of Chrissy's mother that seemed to have its claws stuck into Chrissy's brain.

"Listen, I am never going to yell at you," Eddie promised. Letting his fingertips drift up and down the length of her spine. Giving her hip a soft squeeze with every pass. "And if I do? You have my express permission to hit me."

"Eddie––"

"I can't promise I won't like it, though."

"God," she snorted, falling into a fit of giggles. After a moment, she let out a deep breath, the warmth of her anxieties bleeding across his skin as she exhaled them from her bones. "Thank you for being so good, Eddie."

His scalp prickled in pleasure at her compliment. Forehead falling against her crown, Eddie took his own shaky breath in, slowly breathing out as he pulled her even closer.

"Shit, sweetness, for you? Anything."

[misforgotten2]

A book you very likely don’t have on your shelf #676

1973

[vinylespassion]

Death Spins the Platter, 1973

[redlenai]

silly joke based from this tweet

[secretlyhuntokar]

Masterpiece I made with @bloody-sick-of-1973 on magma :3

Transcript below cut

Good morrow.

Bill and I just made some…

faggy pussing

Fiddleford is welcome to join us <3

[gameraboy2]

Supergirl #3 (1973) Cover by Bob Oksner

[2001hz]

biomechanical body art Painted By: H.R. Giger 1973 in Necronomicon (1977)

[pop-art-sixties-seventies]

Hallucinogens and Shamanism, 1973.

[raskti]

The kiss

Sources: The Bible, Swedish translation(1917) - translated version gt / Judas Iscariot and others by Leonid Andreynev / Judas Iscariot - What can be said for him? by Mark Rutherford "Pages from a Journal with other papers" / Les Miserables by Victor Hugo

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

Colin Bennett - Practical Time Travel - Weiser - 1973