#4 nov

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Farmer Frank Zavistoski and his family ((from left) Joseph Zavistoski, Edward Zavistoski, Anna Zavistoski, Frank Zavistoski, Jr, and Frank Zavistoski) on his four-acre plot of farmland at the corner of 164th Street and Sherman Avenue, with apartment buildings in the background, in the Bronx, November 4, 1924. Zavistoski grows vegetables on the plot of land, as well as keeping chickens and cows.

Photo: UPI via seeoldnyc.com

[nerosunero]

4 November 2023, Dublin. Splashes

[gaylenightingale]

Inuvember 2018 challenge

Chap 4 — 4 Nov 2018

Prompt: InuFamily

Inuyasha leaned back in his favorite tree and sighed deeply. Tonight the Inu gang had gathered for a big meal and all the members started telling various tales of family meals. He even had a fleeting moment of imagining a shared meal with Sesshomaru but that fantasy fled fast. He shivered from the thought.

Kagome had indicated that it could be fun to eat with her family. Come to think of it, the meals he had eaten there were nice. He had to admit his attention was on the steak though. How he loved a good piece of steak. He caught himself almost drool thinking about it. Wonder if his dad liked steak....Bet Sesshomaru does.... Those were the last thoughts he had as he dropped off to sleep.

Next thing Inuyasha saw was an image of a castle courtyard with a large BBQ pit and a rotating spit with some meat on it. It smelled wonderful. There were many dog demons and half-demons talking and laughing as small children ran amongst their individual conversation groups. The atmosphere was jubilant and light.

A ball flew by his head, followed by a small white dog that was airborne chasing it.

“Sorry Grandpa,” he heard a voice call out.

Turning he saw two children who were six and eight years old running toward him. They were out of breath from running and as soon as they were close to him they bowed and apologized again.

“No sweat,” he heard himself reply. “But you’d better get the pup out of your Grandma’s flower beds before she sees it.”

“Right away, and Thanks, Grandpa. Love you!” They yelled as they chased after the transforming toddler.

“By the way, that’s a mean trick to pull on your baby brother,” he yelled after them.

“Yes Sir,” their response was muffled as they got further away.

“Uncle Yasha, Give them a break. It’s nothing like what we did to our kid brothers,” said two Sesshomaru-look-a-likes as they walked into his vision. Before him stood two 20’s year old men with short white hair and puppy years. His equal in height, they did not yet have the developed musculature that defined Inuyasha. They did look exactly alike.

“Boys, if memory serves your mother gave you a tongue-lashing that even worried your father.”

“Oh. Yeah.. Kinda blocked that memory.” The two flushed slightly and then began looking around to see who was near by. Unlucky for them, their mother was standing directly behind them with her hands on her hips.

“Hi Mom! Love you Mom! Gotta run! Going to help the cousins with babysitting duty!” And they raced after the other children.

As soon as the young adults were gone out of range, Inuyasha and Rin started laughing. The joyful noise brought their spouses to their side. Kagome held Inuyasha’s hand while Sesshomaru smiled at his beloved Rin and wrapped his arm around her waist. He smiled at his brother.

“It’s good to get the family together to eat and play. We must do it as often as possible. Right Little Brother?!”

Inuyasha jerked awake and nearly fell from the tree.

“What was that!” He muttered to himself as he jumped out of the tree and walked back to Kaede’s house, shaking his head periodically along the way as he tried to clear his head of the strange dream. It was a weird dream but he did like the name “Grandpa”. A small smile graced his face as he walked back in Kaede’s cabin. “Hey Kagome. Do you like growing flowers? Just curious.”

By GayleNightingale

Posted in FF

#Inuvember #Inuyasha #4 Nov #Inufamily

[j-ilinx]

ci sono cose che non potranno tornare mai più come prima  ci sono cose di me che non potranno mai più essere sistemate

[alongbottom-blog1]

location: the leaky cauldron date: november 4th, 1991 time: close to midnight availability: closed to @tmtonks 

Alice wasn’t one to get drunk easily. First of all, because she didn’t drink that often now; and second because most of her drunken nights after the attack had happened with Alastor around, and drinking with that man really taught you something about tolerance. In all honesty, she didn’t remember much about her alcohol consumption before the attack. And there weren’t many friends left to ask about that. So she worked with whatever she had, and that was the present. Right now, she was absolutely and utterly wasted - dangerously close to the type of inebriation that led to bad decisions. Perhaps closer than she had initially thought. 

It was a lucky turn of fate that she didn’t split when she apparated to Ted’s home and knocked on their door. It was also the biggest irony that she was turning to them right at this moment, seeking for the help of the person who managed to break her heart, over and over again. But maybe that was the point, maybe it was about revenge, about making them feel at least a speck of what she was feeling right now. She didn’t want to think about it, and she knew for sure they wouldn’t want to think about it either. 

The second they opened the door, she was already throwing her arms around their neck. “Shut up, just- I don’t want you to ask me anything.”, she said, voice slurred, before kissing them full on the lips.

[newyorkthegoldenage]

West End Avenue, November 4, 1930.

West End Avenue, when it goes residential at 70th Street, does so in solid fashion, without freak or fantasy. For thirty-five blocks it has probably the most uniform skyline of any avenue in New York. It indulges little in terraces or penthouses; just even bulks of masonry. What other street can show me a run of thirty-five blocks without a shop-window? Few of its apartments have individual names. The Esplanade and the Windermere are two rare exceptions, as also the grand old Apthorp, the Gibraltar of our uptown conservatism: Inside its awful court-yard I have never dared to tread. We leave to the crosstown streets the need to hyperbolize their apartments with pretentious names.      —Robert Morley in Internal Revenue (1933)

Photo: Shower Chronicle Gallery Text: StuffNobodyCaresAbout

[nerosunero]

4 November 2021, Dublin

[nerosunero]

4 November 2020, Dublin