#Hearing Aids in Westchester

[audiologist-ny]

Enhancing Hearing Health: A Comprehensive Guide to Hearing Aids in Westchester

In the realm of audiology, Westchester stands out as a hub for cutting-edge hearing solutions. With a growing awareness of the importance of auditory health, the demand for hearing aids in Westchester has surged. This article aims to explore the landscape of hearing aids in this region, delving into the types, benefits, and considerations for those seeking assistance for hearing loss.

Understanding Hearing Aids

Hearing aids are sophisticated devices designed to amplify sound for individuals experiencing hearing loss. In Westchester, the availability of diverse hearing aid options caters to the unique needs of each individual. From behind-the-ear (BTE) to completely-in-canal (CIC) models, there's a solution for every preference and degree of hearing impairment.

Benefits of Hearing Aids

The benefits of utilizing hearing aids in Westchester extend beyond just improved auditory perception. Enhanced communication, increased social engagement, and a boost in overall quality of life are among the advantages reported by users. Moreover, modern hearing aids are equipped with advanced features such as noise reduction and Bluetooth connectivity, ensuring seamless integration into daily activities.

Choosing the Right Hearing Aid

Selecting the right hearing aid in Westchester involves considering various factors, including the severity of hearing loss, lifestyle preferences, and budget constraints. Consulting with a licensed audiologist is crucial for undergoing comprehensive hearing assessments and receiving personalized recommendations. By leveraging their expertise, individuals can make informed decisions tailored to their specific needs.

Navigating the Market

In Westchester, the market for hearing aids is vibrant and dynamic. Numerous reputable providers offer a wide range of products and services, ensuring accessibility and convenience for those seeking assistance. From dedicated audiologists to specialized clinics, the options are plentiful, allowing individuals to explore different avenues and find the best fit for their requirements.

The Importance of Professional Guidance

While there are many resources available for researching hearing aids independently, nothing replaces the expertise and guidance of a qualified professional. Audiologists in Westchester possess the knowledge and experience to assess hearing health accurately and recommend suitable interventions. Their involvement ensures that individuals receive tailored solutions optimized for their specific circumstances.

Addressing Common Concerns

Despite the undeniable benefits of hearing aids, some individuals in Westchester may harbor concerns or reservations about utilizing them. Common apprehensions include stigma, comfort, and maintenance requirements. However, modern hearing aid technology has made significant strides in addressing these issues, offering discreet designs, customizable fittings, and user-friendly maintenance routines.

Embracing Innovation

In Westchester, the field of audiology is marked by continuous innovation and advancement. From state-of-the-art hearing aid designs to groundbreaking research in auditory science, the landscape is ever-evolving. This commitment to innovation ensures that individuals with hearing loss have access to the latest solutions and technologies, empowering them to lead fulfilling lives unhindered by auditory barriers.

Conclusion: Listen Hear Diagnostics

In conclusion, the availability of hearing aids in Westchester reflects a commitment to enhancing auditory health and improving quality of life for individuals with hearing loss. By understanding the types, benefits, and considerations associated with hearing aids, individuals can make informed decisions that align with their needs and preferences. For comprehensive audiological services and personalized guidance in selecting the right hearing aid, look no further than Listen Hear Diagnostics. Our team of experienced audiologists is dedicated to providing exceptional care and support to individuals seeking to optimize their hearing health. With Listen Hear Diagnostics, your journey to better hearing begins here. Contact us today!

[saibug1022]

The Breach: Part 1

Word Count: 2k

Magnus Bishop & Osiris Bishop, Magnus Bishop x Marcus Sharpe

A/N: So, Osiris Bishop is one of my ILW MCs, and also Magnus's cousin. And I just could not get this idea out of my head, so have this which takes place about a year after the main WIndverse plot

Part 2, Part 3

Magnus made a note to himself that next time he wanted to use vacation days he was going to use them to take out his nieces or he was going to visit Marcus. Going back into the very woods he’d nearly died in and then spending the day trekking through a cave system with a stranger and a paralegal was not his ideal vacation. But there had been no way he’d be able to find another way to get both him and Amalia here, and even less of a way he could tell Jina the real reason he needed the vacation days.

“What the shit…” Magnus gasped as he stepped into the cavern. 

There, like it was just a normal part of the cave, was a swirling and pulsing portal of cyan light. It made the shadows of the cave dance and filled Magnus with this strange need to go and hide while also trying to pull him forward like there was a hook in his ribs.The most unsettling part was the warbling sound, because he couldn’t hear it exactly. It was more like it was coming from inside his head and he got the mildly terrifying feeling that he’d still be able to hear it if he turned off his hearing aids. 

“Pretty much,” Amalia nodded.

“Welcome back to Westchester,” Val snickered.

Val was the stranger, a guy even smaller and scrawnier than Wind, with short hair dyed the cyan of the portal and blue eyes that made Magnus’s skin crawl if he looked into them for too long. Magnus had no idea what it was but there was something just slightly off about the guy that made him want to squirm. Maybe it was the baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire he held in one hand and rested casually on his shoulder.

“Does he have to be here?” Magnus asked Amalia, but Val spoke before she could answer.

“No offense, but I don’t give a shit who you are,” Val shrugged and put his hand in his pockets, the other tightening just slightly around his baseball bat. “I don’t know you and I sure as hell don’t trust you. Only reason you’re even in here is because Amalia vouched for you and I do trust her. But I’m not leaving you here without watching you.”

“Great,” Magnus muttered. “Am I clear to approach your highness?”

“Haha,” Val rolled his eyes. “Just don’t try anything.”

“Trust me I really don’t want to.”

Val lingered by the entrance to the cave while Magnus and Amalia slowly approached the breach. Now joining the warbling sound was a chorus of strange whispers that Magnus liked even less. This thing had really been here for centuries? How had Magnus never noticed? He lived in this town for 18 years! His parents died in this town, his foster home had been right on the edge of the woods, he’d spent weeks in a hospital only a few hours away. Apparently his old high school had been attacked by monsters! He’d gone camping in these woods! 

The thing in front of him took his family. His entire family other than him and his sister had been wiped out, torn apart by unholy creatures. He didn’t care much, having always resented them for refusing to take him and his sister in. If they had, he never would have ended up separated from Vivian and he never would have ended up with Lily. But so many of them had been kids who had never done anything to him. Including Osiris.

But then they’d come back? Or, something that thought it was Osiris came back? Magnus could not understand that part. He wasn’t sure he wanted to either, especially seeing as his bloodline apparently has a strong connection to it. He’d needed to see it all, just once, to process and accept this part of his family and his reality. But then he was going to go right back to New York.

“They’re really in there?” Magnus asked.

“Yeah,” Amalia answered. The pain in her eyes was so raw in the cyan light as she wrapped her arms around herself. Magnus made a mental note to text Wind on the flight back and give her a heads up that Amalia would be upset. They could comfort her way more than Magnus could. “Sometimes they’re able to gather enough strength to visit for a few hours now. It used to be that we couldn't see them at all and they’d just do things like make constellations and make flowers bloom and send breezes.”

“My cousin is literally energy,” Magnus shook his head. “My dorky little cousin who cared more about that damn beanie Vivian gave them than whether or not they graduated high school, is basically a god.”

That’s…..rude………..not a……….dork……..

“What the hell?!” Magnus jumped back, almost stumbling on his own feet. 

“Did you hear something?” Amalia asked with wide and worried eyes.

“You didn’t?!”

“The bastard was right,” Val scoffed. “You do have it in your bloodline.”

“No way, I am not dealing with Power blood,” Magnus shook his head. “This is crazy.”

“You’re dealing with this way worse than I did, and I punched somebody.”

Magnus whirled around to face the new voice and spotted them leaning against the cave wall, fluffy hair just peeking out from that damn beanie, and wearing a brown leather jacket over a maroon shirt that matched the beanieTheir eyes were an inhuman cyan that reflected the light of the breach in a way different from Amalia and Val, making their eyes look like they were glowing. Magnus didn’t recognize them like this, but it wasn’t hard to guess.

“Osiris?” Magnus checked and the new person nodded. “Shit. Amalia are you-”

His voice cut off when he looked to the side and saw Amalia frozen and still staring at him, Val too.

“I am regretting this trip so much,” Magnus muttered. “Tell me you did that and I don’t have to fight some magic monster.”

‘It was me,’ Osiris snickered, thankfully signing as he talked. ‘Surprised you’re here. When I saw you and realized you could hear the wisps I figured I should probably talk to you alone. I’ll see Amalia next time she comes by. But you, coming back home instead of sticking with your fancy lawyer job?’

‘You know I’m a lawyer?’ Magnus signed, not bothering with speaking if he didn’t have to.

Osiris shrugged. ‘The senator thing was national news. Happened to catch it.’

‘I have to ask,’ Magnus’s signs were a little hesitant as he tried to figure out how to ask a question like this in sign. ‘Are you really Si? Lia said you have their memories but think like them.’

‘Technically no,’ Osiris admitted. ‘The original Si died in the attack. They’ve moved on now. But I’m also them while also being my own person. I still remember you. I still like you and I missed you.’

‘Why didn’t you contact me or Vi after the attack?’ Magnus wondered. ‘We would have helped.’

‘I couldn’t have gone to New York,’ Osiris shook their head. ‘And I didn’t want to ask you guys to bounce around the West Coast hunting monsters with me.’  

‘We still could have helped,’ Magnus protested. ‘You were just a kid. We could have sent money or something. We could have been in contact so you weren’t alone.’

‘I wasn’t alone. I had Lia and Horus,’ Osiris replied. ‘Look, it happened, it’s over. No point in beating yourself up about it now. Is that why you’re here? Don’t tell me you got fired.’

‘I did, actually,’ Magnus chuckled. ‘But not from this job. When Lia figured out we were cousins she told me everything. A lot of things were happening at work at the time so I couldn’t do much about it but now that things are settled I just had to see.’ 

‘The fact you could hear me from outside the breach means you definitely got the Power in your blood,’ Osiris told him. Though instead of signing the normal sign for the concept of power they preceded it quickly with the sign for ‘within’ so the two were back to back. ‘So if you really want nothing to do with this, run. Now. Leave and don’t ever come back. That tugging feeling trying to pull you into the breach will never stop and once you let the Power in it doesn’t let go.’

‘Aren’t you the Power?’

‘Yes. Also no.’

‘Does any of this shit make sense?’

‘Not to humans.’

‘Great.’

Osiris snickered and Magnus couldn’t help smiling a little bit. This wasn’t his baby cousin. Technically they’d never even met. There were all these little things slightly off about them that revealed they weren’t just not Magnus’s cousin, but not even human. And they were old. 

But they still had that damn beanie, the stitching fraying in places from constant wear and distress. They still had that crooked smile their dad and Magnus’s mom had, which they both inherited from their mom. They still tilted their head as they thought about how to say something in sign and they still flexed their knuckles while they waited for Magnus to reply. It wasn’t at all his cousin. And somehow they were still his cousin. And after how their family had abandoned Magnus and Vivian…Magnus just couldn’t find it in themself to do the same to Osiris.

‘I’ll try to visit when I can,’ Magnus told them. Osiris may not be very expressive and they may have warned him to stay away, but Magnus still caught how their eyes lit up a little. ‘My boyfriend lives in California, maybe I can visit when I see him.’

‘Damn, you got someone to date you?’ Osiris snickered and Magnus gave them a one-finger sign anyone could understand. ‘Are you sure? I don’t want you to get trapped in this.’

‘Apparently I’m already in it,’ Magnus shrugged. ‘Or at least my blood is. Besides, even if you aren’t technically my Si, you deserve your family too.’

Osiris blinked at him for a moment, looking the most confused they had since they’d shown up in the cave. Then they hauled Magnus forward into their arms and Magnus chuckled as he embraced them. He was committed now. And he intended to keep his word.

So, he did. 

Over the next few months, Magnus tried to engage with Osiris’s “life” as much as he could without fully committing himself to the Power. He got the full story instead of just the summary from Amalia. He even met more of Osiris’s friends. Him and Jocelyn got along well, and he met Lincoln when they coincidentally happened to choose the same weekend to visit, Magnus visiting Osiris and Lincoln visiting both Osiris and Val who was apparently his brother? Val said it was a long story and Mags dropped it. He knew a thing or two about long stories. Along with Lincoln came Horus, who Magnus very vaguely remembered being friends with Si when the two were younger, same with Amalia. The three had basically been joined at the hip.

Lincoln also gave him the number of someone named Abel, who was apparently Osiris’s boyfriend. According to Lincoln, he’d heard about Magnus through the grapevine and wanted to meet him. So the next time Magnus was in California he took the time to head further north and meet up with Abel. The two ended up deciding to keep in touch and often ended up visiting Osiris at the same time. Overall, things seemed to be going okay.

Until, just like Osiris had warned, the Power caught up to him.

[pollylynn]

Title: Airborne Toxic Event WC: 900

“Love conquers all. Oh, it’s all gonna be fine.” —Tory Westchester, The Fifth Bullet (2 x 11)

Love is in the air. It makes no sense. It’s December. It’s the terrible, frantic doldrums between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Love has no business being in the air. 

This is her long-term position, in general. Since she was a teenager—since grunge and flannel and punk and leather were a major part of her life—she has seethed at the onset of engagement ring season. She despises the barrage of commercials for mall jewelry stores and secretly wonders how she might get her hands on divorce statistics that would surely support her hypothesis that anyone dumb enough to get engaged over the holidays is unlikely to be in the market for a couples Halloween costume. 

And, of course, her objection to love in the air this time of year is . . . highly specific. She absently traces the circumference of the face on her father’s watch any time her hands aren’t occupied. She absently traces it, staring off into space, when her hands should be occupied. The heel of her palm finds the outline of her mother’s ring and presses it into her sternum a dozen times an hour. Love in December is an impossible thing, because January will come. It  always comes. 

But love is quite decidedly in the air this year. It ranges from annoying to perplexing to downright shocking. She comes face to face—or face to . . .  something—with Angelica Fink’s tearful demand to know what she is supposed to do with her after-market breasts in her newly widowed state. It falls to her, ultimately, to deal with Tory Westchester’s deranged adoration for a man she has literally made up. She’ll file both of those under shocking, but also wearying. She is dedicated. She is empathetic by both instinct and effort. But she’d love a little less love in her job, this time of year. 

At first blush, she’s inclined to file Emma Carnes under shocking, too. She braces herself when she makes the phone call, post–Lucy epiphany. She’s prepared to strong-arm the woman who surely wants nothing to do with her ex—particularly this time of year—but she can hear Emma gathering up her coat, her keys, her bag. She can hear the ding of an elevator and the way her voice fades out and back in as she juggles the phone, rushing out the door to come to the aid of a man to whom—as it turns out—she has not spoken in a year. A holiday break-up for the evidence file, it seems, so what on earth is the woman doing here, eager to help, yet taking her shots about hot young women and leaving the toilet seat up? What is that even about? 

Being shocked is easy. It’s the path of least resistance. She could shake her head and mutter Poor bastards. Poor, foolish bastards. And yet Emma Carnes and the man who once was Jeremy Preswick win themselves a place in the more labor-intensive “perplexing” column, ultimately. 

It’s his fault. How could anything love-is-in-the-air related not be his fault? She’s reasonably sure, in fact, that both Angelica Fink and Tory Westchester are figments of his imagination, sprung from the page. She’s sure that tortured romance of Emma Carnes and Jeremy Preswick is some invention of his, too—some fever dream now walking the streets of New York, arm-in-arm, chocolate lab in tow. If round two of that hot mess isn’t the product of his abnormal brain, she is not sure what would be.  And still, figment of his overactive imagination or no, invention of his or some naturally occurring phenomenon, she is perplexed, not shocked, by Emma Carnes and Jeremey Preswick. 

She has never had to contemplate what she would do if she were in Emma’s shoes. Not her exact shoes, of course. Who even has shoes for that made-for-tv-movie scenario? But there has never been a scenario in her life where she has had to ponder custody of a special needs dog. There is no one from her past who’d merit her spending any time whatsoever on the question of whether or not to help them lawyer up against a murder charge. 

She has an artificial history. She has a before and after her mother’s murder, and it just so happens that two roads diverged when she was just nineteen. She was a child. She was such  a child up until that January night. And then she was, forever and ever, Amen, not a child at all. On both sides of the divide, she would have—must have—rejected the idea of love being in the December air. 

It’s an artifact, her disdain. It is something carefully, deliberately crafted. It’s a performance she pulls out and dusts off every year this time, as surely as others hook their fingers into a loop of hopelessly tangled string lights with who knows how many burnt out bulbs. 

It’s hard to maintain in the face of this case, in the face of the perplexing love story of Emma Carnes and Jeremy Preswick, Lucy’s parents, who might be on their way to happily ever after. It’s hard to maintain in the face of him crouched down, reveling in a strange dog’s kisses—or in the face of him wringing his hands over his mother’s matters of the heart. 

It’s hard to maintain her curmudgeonly facade when it’s December and love is in the air. 

A/N: This was 100% about to be about Martha's romantic dilemma and Castle trying to involve her in that drama, and then Brain Poneh just grabbed hold of the calendar and ran with it.

images via homeofthenutty

[whatisonthemoon]

Prosecution Rests in Tax-Fraud Trial of Rev. Moon (1982)

New York Times - Arnold H. Lubasch - May 2, 1982

The prosecution has rested its case in the tax-fraud trial of the Rev. Sun Myung Moon after presenting 30 witnesses and approximately 1,000 documents.

In four weeks of presenting the evidence in Federal District Court in Manhattan, the prosecutors sought to show that Mr. Moon had deliberately failed to report more than $150,000 of personal income on his tax returns from 1973 through 1975.

Mr. Moon, the 62-year-old Korean evangelist who heads the Unification Church, contends that he had merely been holding church funds that were not subject to income taxes. Judge Reserves Decision

On Friday, after hearing arguments by both sides, Judge Gerard L. Goettel reserved his decision on a defense motion to dismiss the charges on the ground that the prosecution had failed to prove its case.

The prosecution's last witness was Dr. Herbert Rowe, a former manager of a paper-manufacturing company. Dr. Rowe said that some key church documents that were supposedly signed in 1973 were written on paper that was not manufactured until 1974.

When asked if the manufacturing date was proved by a watermark on the paper, he replied, ''That is correct.'' The disputed documents were supposed to show that foreign church funds had been deposited in Mr. Moon's bank accounts, supporting the defense view that the accounts held church funds. But the prosecution contended that the documents had been created and backdated to obstruct the tax investigation. When the testimony ended on Thursday, Martin Flumenbaum, a prosecutor, told the judge that ''the Government rests in its direct case.'' The prosecution team of Mr. Flumenbaum, Jo Ann Harris, James R. DeVita and Joan S. Alexander could present rebuttal evidence later. Defense to Begin Tomorrow The defense case is scheduled to begin tomorrow. The defense lawyers are Charles A. Stillman, Andrew M. Lawler and Bernard S. Bailor, who declined to say whether they would present any witnesses.

Mr. Moon is on trial with a co-defendant, Takeru Kamiyama, a top aide charged with helping file false tax returns and obstructing the investigation.

Prosecution witnesses included Chase Manhattan Bank officials who said that Mr. Moon had deposited $1.6 million in bank accounts, mostly in cash, and a Unification Church official who acknowledged that Mr. Moon had been given $50,000 of stock in a tea-importing company formed by the church.

Former Unification Church officials, testifying reluctantly under subpoenas, identified documents concerning a Westchester County estate where Mr. Moon and his family live.

The documents showed that the church had bought the estate in 1973 for $625,000, including $361,000 from Mr. Moon's accounts at Chase Manhattan. They described the $361,000 as Mr. Moon's ''personal money'' and said he had given it to the church as a ''loan.'' 'Not Accessible' to the Church

Michael Y. Warder, another former official of the church, testified under immunity from prosecution that Mr. Kamiyama had told him that the Chase Manhattan accounts contained Mr. Moon's money and were ''not accessible'' to the church.

Mr. Warder said he had been publisher of the church newspaper, The News World, and had held many budget discussions with Mr. Kamiyama. He added that he had lied to investigators about church operations to help Mr. Moon, but that the church leader had not told him to lie.

The charges against Mr. Moon accuse him of failure to report more than $100,000 of interest from the Chase Manhattan accounts, which were in his name, and $50,000 of stock issued to him by the teaimporting company, called Tong Il Enterprises.

If convicted, he could face a prison sentence of up to five years for conspiracy and three years on each of three counts of filing false tax returns.

A jury of two men and 10 women is hearing the case.

Source: NY Times Related links and notes below Ronald Reagan’s Diary Entry on Moon

Monday December 24, 1984 “Senator Orrin Hatch is after me to grant clemency to the Rev. Moon. I’ve explored this & find I just can’t. I have, however, taken action to see if I can grant him a furlough over New Years. It seems that day is the holiest in that religion.”

Washington Post: Moon’s Japanese Profits Bolster Efforts in U.S. (1984) Information on COINTELPRO Nobusuke Kishi wrote a letter to President Reagan to get Moon released from jail; he was in for perjury, document forgery and tax evasion in 1984.

That time Bo Hi Pak got scammed Archive of Robert Parry’s Dark Side of Rev. Moon Series

[decorativeconcretecincinnati]

Hearing Aid Dispensing

Listen Hear Diagnostics can help you improve your hearing. We offer professional hearing aid dispensing and audiologic care in a comfortable and welcoming environment. Contact us for more information!

[safewash-tech]

Positives of Using Electric Power Washer in Rockland, Brooklyn, Orange County, White Plains, Norwalk, and Westchester, NY

Removing stubborn dirt and grease marks from the garage or driveway of one’s home is a laborious task that requires vigorous scrubbing and washing with high-quality products. The extensive washing becomes simpler when one turns on an electric power washer in Rockland, Brooklyn, Orange County, White Plains, Norwalk, and Westchester, NY. Jets of hot water are directed to the desired spot, and the debris, dirt, and stains are eliminated within minutes. Apart from properly cleaning one’s home and workplace, such washers are popular among cleaners engaged in removing dirt from industrial areas.

Well, both power and pressure washers have been in vogue for years, but the heavy and loud devices are passé now. Investing in a power cleaner that runs with the aid of electricity instead of gas is advisable. Sure, the results will be as good as the erstwhile device. Moreover, the latest electric-powered device comes with the following advantages:-

· Quiet Operation- The old power washers utilized gas, making the operation noisy. The sound can go up to 100 decibels which is enough to harm the hearing of human beings. The electric-powered alternative is quieter in comparison to the gas-powered washer. The sound levels reach a maximum of 78 decibels, similar to a washing machine's whirring. There are no health adversities reported by consumers so far. The user does not need to wear earplugs to safeguard hearing either. Furthermore, such washers happen to be the first choice when cleaning is necessary for areas that need the noise levels kept low. Schools and hospitals, for instance, find it beneficial to employ an electric power washer instead of the traditional one.

· Light- While the washers cannot be termed as lightweight strictly yet, the weight is much less than the conventional power washer that uses hot water and/or steam. There is no heavy tank full of gasoline to tug around during cleaning, either. The light washer is easier to maneuver around the corners and clean in tight spaces. Sure, the power washer must be used near a power source, but one can always invest in an extension hose that enables the cleaner to address all dirty spots without exception.

· Safety Assured- As the electric washers do not require diesel or gasoline for operation, the burning of fuel is kept to a minimum. The carbon footprint is also reduced, and no noxious fumes are emitted to contend with. It is safe enough to use indoors and in enclosed spaces with no harmful effects. Apart from households and automotive garages, electric power/pressure washers are favored by the manufacturing and food processing industries.

Power washers are intended for heavy cleaning and have the water heated up to fulfill the purpose. Pressure washers in Rockland, Brooklyn, Orange County, White Plains, Norwalk, and Westchester, NY, use high-speed jets of water to dislodge debris and weeds and microorganisms from the garden. Cleaning the exterior of a building and RVs is possible by pressure washing too.

[bamfdaddio]

X-Men Abridged: 1975

The X-Men, those super dramatic mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. Want to unravel this tapestry? Then read the Abridged X-Men!

(X-Men 94 - 96) - by Chris Claremont, Len Wein and Dave Cockrum

You think I won’t automatically be able to include a powerful Storm-moment in every instalment? Watch me. Claremont is a much bigger Storm-fan than I am. (X-Men 96)

So, originally, the plan for the All-New X-Men would’ve been very different: the series would have remained Giant-Sized and it would’ve come out four times per year. This format would have allowed enough room to split focus between thirteen team-members. However, when the Krakoa-issue turned out to be crazily uncannily astonishingly popular, the series became a bi-monthly series. This necessitated some changes, especially in the roster.

Also, there’s this new writer? Chris Claremont? idk man, he seems a little dramatic

The first thing this new kid on the block does, is clean house: he jettisons almost all of the original X-Men, except for Cyclops. In a tear-filled goodbye, we finally get our first on-panel kiss between Jean and Scott. Fucking finally, only took you twelve years, but also: aw.

C’mon Scott, you can try long distance! Consider the benefits, like not having to look at your girlfriend dressing like a Hart-of-Dixie villain. (And don’t think you’re off the hook, Lorna. You look like a Christmas ornament) (X-Men 94)

Sunfire, surprising no-one, also leaves. (For real this time.) I’ve always wondered what the original plan for him would have been, but considering there are two other grumpy and angry rebels on the team (Thunderbird and Wolverine), I understand why Shiro would be a little redundant. It is a shame that it’s a POC that gets discarded, especially considering what happens later.

No time for absent souls, let’s get into the plot! Thunderbird desperately wants to prove himself, while Scott wants him to show some restraint. They butt heads and T-bird gets hurt during training. Despite his injury, he insisting he joins the team on their next mission! Because it’s the Avenging Ex-X-Man Beast who calls for aid.

I love that Beast brushes aside this almost entirely new team of X-Men just as easily as my aunt brushed aside the new boyfriend I brought home for Christmas. (X-Men 94)

As an aside, I’m assuming y’all know what happened to the Beast: in the Avengers, he experimented on himself and turned himself furry and blue. One of his most iconic moments! (And it didn’t even happen in an X-Men comic.)

Count Nefaria has once again allied himself with a team of silly super-villains and invaded the NORAD (North-American Air Command) in order to ransom the entire world with nuclear weapons. When the X-Men approach, Count Nefaria shoots them from the sky and we get one of the hallmarks of Claremont’s writing: the sometimes unnecessarily DRAMATIC CLIFFHANGER! Because the issue ends as the X-Men plummet to their FOR SURE INEVITABLE deaths…

Except, you know, Colossus doesn’t really do falling damage and Storm and Banshee can fly.

Look, realistically, all of them would’ve hit the ground somewhere around Kurt’s second sentence. (X-Men 95)

When everyone is safely down, Nightcrawler teleports inside the base and lets the rest of the X-Men in. Colossus gets to shine by protecting the rest of them from bullets, while Storm washes the hypnotized soldiers away with a quick flood. They fight the Ani-Men but the two X-Men who haven’t had the time to shine… are promptly knocked out.

“Gort wanted to take out that mutant, so Gort just threw the first thing Gort could find.”

“Which was?”

“Another mutant.” (X-Men 95)

Banshee and Thunderbird perform pretty poorly, while the other X-Men try and stop the Doomsday Clock that Nefaria started.

It’s a little confusing how the clock is stopped - somehow, all the fighting and ruckus in the base stopped the clock from going to zero, preventing the launching of the nukes? Seems like a design flaw, US government! Anyway, the Doomsday Clock is not the focus of this story, not really: this is a story about John Proudstar and his desperate need to prove himself. In order to stop Count Nefaria from escaping, the heretofore useless John jumps on his plane and begins tearing at it.

It’s a foolish plan. The plane ascends and begins to smoke while John keeps pulling off bits and pieces. Banshee gives chase, screaming at Thunderbird to get the fuck off that thing (laddie). But…

Just like John, Charles doesn’t recognize a hopeless situation when he’s right in the middle of it and is just as unwilling to let go. (X-Men 95)

Now, John Proudstar is not entirely unproblematic as a character. With Storm, they get things mostly right, especially considering what decade this was and how white Marvel was. Thunderbird, on the other hand, veers dangerously close to becoming a nasty indigenous stereotype, especially considering his outfit and attitude. Claremont will redeem himself in the future by writing much better characters that are Cheyenne and Apache - Forge, Mirage, Warpath - but as it stands now? John is barely a flat character and it’s a shame that, after writing out Sunfire, the first character to die is also a POC.

And yet, despite the fact that this storyline is Claremont’s first X-Men attempt, and despite the fact that it’s uneven, over-dramatic and has a silly villain, it still takes balls to kill a member of a barely established team. (Especially considering the time and age.) And, while the plotting is a bit thin, the moment where Xavier feels Thunderbird die is pretty effective.

The next story is a lot more typically Claremont, and a lot better. Back in Westchester, Emo!Scott, in all his failure-as-a-leader, someone-died-on-my-watch anguish, damages a cairn when he lets loose. Randomly, this is a capstone to some demonic dimension and Scotty accidentally unleashes a demon.

Can´t you imagine this scene being a lot funnier if the yellow panels are just Claremont shouting at Cyclops? Can’t you?! Can’t you?! (X-Men 96)

Meanwhile, Stephen Lang, an anti-mutant army-man, wants to kick off Project Armageddon, which builds on themes established by the Trasks. Michael Rossi, a colonel who gets imported from the Ms. Marvel-lines Claremont was working on before, wants to hear none of this, so Stephen has a little accident arranged.

Back in the mansion, a surprise new addition to the cast arrives!

Maybe housekeeper was one of the identities Moira X had tried out in a previous life, before quickly realizing that being a scientist would better suit her purposes. (X-Men 96)

Her welcome is rudely interrupted by the arrival of the demon!

More like Unholy Hannah, amirite? (X-Men 96)

Both Wolverine and Storm get their chance to shine, before Storm manages to restore the cairn and lock out the demon invasion. And this is where Claremont actually shines. He’s great at building concurrently running storylines, teasing future plots instead of making it a mishmash of X-Men being attacked by random villains. Furthermore, he actually uses action scenes to further the plot or give depth to his characters. Deftly, he introduces Wolverine’s berserker side and teases at Storm’s claustrophobia. Check it out:

Hey, James, I think your barbarian just unlocked the berserker rage feat. (X-Men 96)

Sure, Claremont sometimes makes the X-Men little more than a superhero soap opera, but he does it so well. We’re truly in a new era now. I can’t wait.

For Whom the Death Tolls: Thunderbird. One of the few X-Men for whom death is actually a sort of permanent state. Has he been spotted on Krakoa yet?

What could have been: Imagine X-Men if Sunfire or Thunderbird had taken the place of ‘angry loner’ on the team, instead of Wolverine. Also, I wonder why Claremont never bothered to connect the demons under the cairn to Limbo - the N’Garai are an entirely separate dimension. Maybe Westchester is just a hotbed of demonic activity.

What to read: None of it is truly pivotal, but X-Men 94 and 95 are hallmarks for the death of Thunderbird. X-Men 96 should be on your reading list if you’re a fan of Wolverine and Storm.

[awackyphdinadorkable]

Cherik Moodboard - The Snow Queen AU

Charles and Erik were the best of friends ever since they were small children. They didn’t just grow up together, but they also learned to master their special abilities together. Erik and his mother live in a small house just down the road, so Edie does not have to travel far to manage the gardens and all the flowers at Westchester.

These days, Erik helps his mother as best as he can, which, of course, always gives plenty of opportunity for him to spend time with his best friend to play chess or get drunk on Charles’s late step-father’s fine selection of drinks.

Now short before coming of age, Charles can finally claim ownership over his family’s estate and transform it into a school for the likes of them. Their dream is just within reach. A place for themselves, where others can hone their skills, unafraid of what others may think of them.

But a tragic accident during winter leads to Edie’s death, which leaves Erik petrified. Charles tries his best to console his friend, but even with his abilities, he doesn’t know how to help Erik look towards a brighter future to regain hope. Instead, Erik grows more and more obsessed with snowflakes and old stories.

After a night of heavy drinking to numb the pain together, Erik sneaks out into the night while Charles is fast asleep. Erik is visited by a beautiful woman made of ice, just like in his mother’s tales. The Snow Queen. She offers him a life of no pain, no suffering. Erik feels more than tempted to go with her, but when he hears Charles calling out to him, the Queen is already gone by the time he turns back around.

Wind picks up and something flies into his eyes, making his eyes burn with unshed tears. Charles ushers Erik back inside, and for the first time in a long time, Erik swats his friend’s hand away, arguing that he has no need for help.

In the days to come, Erik grows more and more irritated with Charles and his constant talk about the school, the dream. Was it ever truly his dream or was he just trying to please Charles? Erik is no longer sure. What if Charles went too far into his head to plant that seed there? What if he was a fool to ever trust him? People don’t accept them now, why would they ever change their mind? They are all the same in the end, aren’t they?

But whenever he addresses those matters to Charles, he just feels his heart clench with cold, seeing the other man’s sadness and disappointment. Most of these days, Erik wished Charles just left him alone, that everyone just left him alone so he could watch the snowflakes. When Erik goes to see his mother’s grave, he is visited by the Snow Queen again. She kisses him and he doesn't feel the cold anymore. The Queen offers to kiss him another time, to forget all this, all the people who’ve caused him suffering.

“And then everything will be in order again. Like snowflakes.”

Erik agrees and she kisses him another time. And just like that, his mother fades from his mind, Charles does. There is just endless white and the Queen guiding him to a sled of ice taking him away from a world that won’t ever accept him.

When Charles realizes that Erik is gone, he is desperate to find him. But no matter how far he reaches with his mind, he can’t detect him. Charles is in despair. His best friend is somewhere out there, and he can’t get to him. He can’t help him. Just what is he supposed to do?

In the nights that follow, Charles continues to be plagued by nightmares. Strange visions of a broken mirror dipped in blood. A castle made of ice. And inside it he sees Erik bowing to a woman wearing a crown made of ice. At first, he thinks this is just his mind playing tricks on him, the way it was when he didn’t yet know of his abilities and thought he was going mad.

Until Erik helped him see that he was, in fact, not mad. That the voices inside his head weren’t his own but of those around him.

When Charles passes by a river, thinking back to how they used to bathe in it as children, the images come back to him, like lightning striking in his head. Charles collapses into a wooden boat and blacks out, though the boat, without anyone’s doing sets sail. By the time he awakens, Charles finds himself far away from home in a boat sailing on its own accord.

Before he can sink into despair, he can feel the faintest of brushes of a familiar mind against his. Erik. He is closer to Erik now. He can feel him, however faint, but he can feel him. He isn’t dead. He is out there. And that means there is still hope.

The boat eventually finds its landing place in a faraway place Charles wouldn’t know how to find on a map, if he even had one with him. He wanders through the woods aimlessly until he stumbles upon a house guarded by a blue beast. Though Charles can tell at once that the beast is also a man, is someone like him and Erik.

As it turns out, Hank and Raven have taken refuge in this cottage after an experiment of his gone wrong. He worked on a way to rid himself of the abnormal appearance of his feet, only to amplify the effect and turn into a beast whenever angered or in danger. Raven possesses similar powers, able to change appearance at will. The two have since lost hope in humankind to ever accept them. They have also heard of the Snow Queen who seemingly wants to rally against humans.

Raven offers Charles to stay with them, but he kindly refuses. He has to find Erik, he has to bring him back home. Hank offers to accompany him, but Charles also refuses that offer, because he knows that finding Erik is his responsibility alone.

“But you will always be welcome in my home, as you welcomed me into yours. Together, we may be able to change the face of the world, not today, not tomorrow, but so long we haven’t given up, the chance is still there that the day will come.”

Better equipped for the cold awaiting him further up north thanks to Raven and Hank, Charles continues his quest to the castle made of ice. He lets himself be guided by the fragments of memories the Queen could not take away from Erik even with her second kiss. Because even if she stripped Erik of his memories, he is still there. Charles can still sense his light, and that will guide him to his best friend, no doubt.

But when he reaches the place he can feel Erik’s mind the strongest, he finds nothing but a frozen lake. No castle. Nothing except for ice and snow. Exhausted and discouraged, he collapses onto the ice, calling out to Erik, though he knows he can’t hear him.

Or can he?

When he opens his eyes again, Charles finds himself near a warm hearth inside a small cabin. A grumpy man greets him, putting on more wood for the fire. The man’s name is Logan, and for some strange reason, he seems to know Charles, even though Charles doesn’t know him. Even stranger so, he can’t sense the man’s mind, although he is sitting right next to him.

“That was by your own design.”

“I didn’t ever meet you.”

“Not in this world, but in the world I came from.”

“Another world?”

“You can read minds, and made it all this way to here alive. Don’t act as though this was the strangest thing you’ve heard or seen thus far.”

Logan begins to recall his time “on the other side of the mirror”. The Snow Queen with the aid of the mirror image of Erik, nearly succeeded in destroying all good in their world by completing a mirror that had burst into a billion pieces.

“The devil’s work if you asked me. But no one knows who’s made the mirror. I just know what it did to my friends. It made them angry, sad, cold. Until they saw no good in the world anymore and fell into despair. A world without hope… is really without hope. You were right about that all along.”

In a last effort to save their world, Charles with the aid of his pupils and Logan set out to fight the Snow Queen, a woman with special abilities much like Charles’s. But with Erik’s aid of completing the frame to hold the mirror in its place, their efforts were near in vain.

“I watched my friends turn to snow. I watched them fade away. Kitty and you came up with a way for me to cross the threshold to the other world, this world here. I heal fast.  I don’t get killed… so I took a shard of the mirror with me.”

He shows a scar on his abdomen. “The Snow Queen wants to complete the mirror in this world because she can’t complete it in the other. Because I have the last piece. You managed to hide me from her eyes. Only if I were to face her would she recognize me.”

“But she can complete the mirror in this world, if Erik sets the frame.”

“Yes, because the other me, the one belonging to this world… he is asleep, if you will, out of reach. And even if not, the moment I faced her and tried to break the mirror like I did last time… it would mean the end of all good in this world. I no longer have the claws to cut it. I had to leave those, too.”

“So there is no hope?”

“There is always hope. At least so long you don’t give up. If unleash your mind, if you let your abilities out, which I know you’ve learned to keep in check over the years, you will possess a power even greater than hers. You are the only hope we’ve got left. So you better make this work, or else I will be very angry with you.”

“But I can’t even find the castle.”

“Because you’ve only looked at it from one side.”

It is then that Charles understands what he has to do. He goes back to the frozen lake and cuts a hole into the ice. He dives into the dark waters below, and once again lets himself be guided by the faint light at the end of it, Erik.

When he lifts his head above the water again, he finds himself in the Snow Queen’s castle. Charles knows now that he has to do whatever it takes not just to save Erik, but everyone else who dares to put hope in him. Even if that means going to the edge of the world and further still. But will he succeed? Or will eternal winter be the end of all hope?

-------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note: Here’s my little Christmas gift to a fandom that is also very much a gift. Happy holidays and much love!

[d-criss-news]

When it was announced that The Rosie O'Donnell Show would be back for one night only with a guest list of about 15 million Broadway talents, many of us wondered, would it be a return to the glory days of her multiple Emmy-winning daytime talk show or more like her ill-fated attempt to resuscitate the primetime variety format on NBC in 2008. It turned out to borrow from both those predecessors while evolving into something completely different — a low-tech lovefest that felt like eavesdropping on a group chat among friends looking out for one another in a time of need.

It was spontaneous, messy and blighted by some of the worst audio glitches imaginable. Yet it was often affectingly intimate, and even over an endurance-testing three-and-a-half commercial-free hours, also strangely addictive. The lack of slickness seemed to carry through to the relaxed manner of the guests, and their refreshing unpretentiousness.

Conceived by actor-producer (and occasional tech-support helpmate) Erich Bergen and live-streamed on Broadway.com and the website's YouTube channel, the show was a benefit for The Actors Fund, the charitable organization founded in 1882 that supports performers and behind-the-scenes theater workers. It raised more than half-a-million dollars, O'Donnell announced at the end of the marathon, sitting in a Hamilton hoodie and offering a champagne toast in a glass emblazoned with the face of Barbra Streisand.

She conducted the entire show from behind a laptop in her New Jersey garage, its floor spattered with the paint spillage of countless craft projects. "I'm a little bit of a Broadway nerd, I admit it," said O'Donnell, establishing her dual role as host and superfan.

Part of the show's unique pleasure was seeing favorite Broadway performers chilling in their own homes, almost all of them dressed down, with little visible attention to makeup or hair, and zero concern about unflattering angles. It was a great equalizer, proving that even artists who can hold packed theaters in the palm of their hands with a song are housebound and trying to make the best of a bad situation just like the rest of us — staying close to their families, killing time, learning to cook, wondering how long this unnerving isolation will last. Or how much longer we can put off that shower.

It was kind of comforting to see Idina Menzel sitting by her microwave and confessing, "I guess I'm going a little bonkers," while lamenting a failed lasagna attempt and sharing the challenges of homeschooling her son when she's no math genius. Likewise, hearing Matthew Broderick and Sarah Jessica Parker talk about watching Columbo reruns or catching up on The Crown, while SJP begged for no spoilers on the final episode of The Sopranos, which she may now get to at last. Seeing Annette Bening on her Los Angeles balcony wearing a "Make America Kind Again" baseball cap was as much a tonic as watching Neil Patrick Harris do a card trick with his adorable twins. And who doesn't want to meet Gloria and Emilio Estefan's cute rescue dogs or hear about Lin-Manuel Miranda's kids' reaction to their first exposure to Singin' in the Rain?

Then there were the musical interludes.

Where else could you catch Patti LuPone, in magnificent voice, singing the urgently upbeat 1930s standard "A Hundred Years From Today," unaccompanied while sitting by the jukebox in her basement? Or Kelli O'Hara nestled into an armchair honoring Stephen Sondheim's 90th birthday by wrapping her crystalline soprano around "Take Me to the World," a hymn to unity from Evening Primrose? Or husband and wife Audra McDonald and Will Swenson duetting on the Charlie Chaplin evergreen, "Smile," from their Westchester living room? Or Darren Criss pouring his heart into another Sondheim classic about the desire for connection, "Being Alive," from Company, accompanying himself in a lovely pop arrangement on acoustic guitar from the sofa of his Los Angeles home? And while sound problems plagued Barry Manilow's selection of hits, ending with "I Made It Through the Rain," I was tickled to see his Judy Garland Kleenex dispenser.

Many of the song choices were thoughtfully apropos of the current crisis, offering comforting reassurance of the eventual return of resilience and togetherness while people in major cities all over the country self-isolate as the infection rate of the coronavirus pandemic continues to climb. Maybe Tituss Burgess at his home keyboard singing "The Glory of Love" is exactly the kind of uplift we all need right now.

Even in the seemingly random numbers, the entire enterprise was characterized by a spirit of generosity and sharing.

Kristin Chenoweth celebrated a Starbucks romance in "Taylor the Latte Boy." Matthew Morrison goofed it up on ukulele to a mashup of "The Bare Necessities" and "Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah" from his Disney Dreamin' album. Alan Menken whipped through a medley of his songs from The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast and Little Shop of Horrors, among others, at the piano. Ben Platt, also at the keyboard, did Bob Dylan's "Make You Feel My Love." And Adrienne Warren, the sensational star of Tina: The Tina Turner Musical, growled out "Simply the Best" from her bathtub. That was on the third attempt during a particularly troublesome audio patch, by which time her bubbles were history.

Prompted by O'Donnell, more than one guest reminded viewers that The Actors Fund is not just about Broadway artists pulling star salaries but also stagehands, makeup artists, wigmakers and ushers who work in what is very much a gig economy. The organization provides emergency financial assistance, social services, affordable housing, healthcare and insurance counseling and addiction support.

"Everything's a one-off," said Tony-winning actor Brian Stokes Mitchell, who serves as chairman of The Actors Fund. "That's how we get by, and many people are living on the edge right now."

"We're all just one, two, maybe three paychecks away from bankruptcy," added Billy Porter, whose mother is in an Actors Fund nursing home. "In this community, our whole job description is insecurity," said Judith Light.

Porter, along with Lea Salonga and longtime activist Light recalled how Broadway was on the frontlines of another life-threatening struggle during the early days of the AIDS crisis. All of them urged viewers to stay strong and take the time to reflect on the value of solidarity.

While O'Donnell has never been shy about her opposition to Donald Trump and everything he stands for, the show was remarkably light on politics, with just the occasional dig slipping through. She opened with a little celebratory "Yay!" while admitting she had missed the president's daily coronavirus press update, and then explained that she and her guests were not there to talk Trump. When Harvey Fierstein, O'Donnell's 2005 stage husband in Fiddler on the Roof, reminded her of all the election work still to be done, she said, "Let's all just know, we deserve a leader who tells the truth." And the delays in making coronavirus testing more widely available prompted a comment that the government should have gotten busy on that back in January when the writing was already on the wall.

Mostly, however, the hastily revamped Rosie O'Donnell Show was about bringing people together at this time of anxiety and isolation, as the host reconnected with artists whom she has championed since her reign as the Queen of Nice. "Everyone in the community loves you," she told Chita Rivera in a particularly effusive greeting. "You are our queen mother!"

Many of the performers would have been decompressing after rehearsals or Sunday matinees if the Broadway shutdown hadn't happened — Criss in American Buffalo, Broderick and Parker in Plaza Suite, Warren in Tina, Lauren Patten and Elizabeth Stanley in Jagged Little Pill. Sunday would have been LuPone's opening night in the gender-flipped revival of Company. Gavin Creel, who abruptly ended his London run in Waitress to fly home and is in isolation in a cabin in upstate New York, revealed the fear that he might have contracted the virus, given that several others in the cast have fallen ill, with one of them testing positive.

The show bridged the gap separating us from artists whose work we normally experience on the other side of the footlights. Most of us will never again get to see Stephen Sondheim and Andrew Lloyd Webber exchange greetings in song on the birthday the two composers happen to share. From those celebrated veterans to rising-star newbies, the common denominator here was everybody facing the crisis just like us, reaching out a hand of friendship, albeit from a mandatory safe distance.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Convince Me To Go {2}

AU Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Mild Cursing, Slow Burn

Words: 2.3k

Summary: When we run away, we’re usually running from something. This time you may have run toward it instead.

Note: Welp. 🤷🏾‍♀️  I hope you enjoy this.

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

“So, what’ll it be?” The bartender asked just as you and your knight in shining armor got situated.

 “Lemon water and a napkin if you have, please.”

 “Lemon water?”

 “Yeah, lemon is a good antiseptic, you know for his—” You motioned to his face. The woman nodded and wrote it down.

 “And to drink? This ain’t urgent care.”

“Three rounds of Gin for me, and for the lady?”

 He looked at you with both eyebrows raised.

“Coconut rum please.”

 “Three rounds of coconut rum. All right.”

 The bartender nodded and walked away to gather your order.

 “I did not peg you as a rum woman.”

 “No? white wine, or chardonnay maybe?” He smiled and shook his head.

 “As I said, you know nothing about me.”

 “All right let’s start with your name. What’s your name?”

 You thought about it. If he knew your name, he could easily search you across social media. You didn’t want that happening. “No names.”

 His eyebrows shot up again. “No names. Huh, kinky.”

 You laughed and shook your head.

 “So, what do I call you?”

You shrugged. “You pick.”

 He gave an exaggerated facial expression that said he was thinking extra hard. He looked goofy, but through the goofiness, he was still cute.

 “You know what, I think I’ll stick with fancy.”

 You rolled your eyes.

 “Not so fancy anymore, my shoes are ruined, stockings ripped, I’m a mess.”

 “Clothes don’t make the woman fancy. The woman makes the woman.”

 You leaned closer to him and looked into his eyes. “Are you concussed?”

 He snorted and laughed heartily and slapped his hand across his chest. He threw his head back and gave you a good view of his perfect teeth. You couldn’t help but smile a little too. The bartender returned with a tray full of drinks and the lemon water.

 “Also found a first aid kit behind the bar.”

 “Thank you.”

She walked off again and you opened the kit and surveilled the items inside. You took out a Band-Aid, some ointment, everything else was absent. When you looked back to him his eyes were glued to you.

 “What?”

 “Nothing. All right fancy nurse, do your worst.”

 You smiled and scooted closer to him as he leaned over the table. You dipped the napkin into the lemon water and dabbed his eyebrow. He barely flinched as you wiped the superficial wound.

 “Good news, it doesn’t look deep enough that you’ll need stitches,” you announced.

 “Yay.”

 “No stitches mean barely a scar which means your pretty face will remain intact.”

 “You think I have a pretty face?” Your eyes met as your hands stilled.

 “uh—well, um, I didn’t mean it literal. It’s a thing you say.”

 “I’ve never heard anyone say that thing unless it was meant that way,” he contested.

 “Well, now you have.”

 You dropped your hands and examined the wound on his cheekbone then proceeded to clean it as well. This you did in silence. After a few moments, you decided the band-aid would be better for his cheekbone rather than his eyebrow due to the hair.

 “All right, all done. You may have to clean that eyebrow once more, but it’ll be fine.”

 “What no kiss for the boo-boo?”

You smirked and gave him a small eye roll. “You’ll live.”

He smiled and nodded his head. “Thank you.” You nodded as you wiped your hands.

 “It’s the least I could do. I should be thanking you.”

 “Let’s call it even. A toast?” he held up one of his glasses of Gin. You mirrored him with your rum.

 “To muggers, brawls in the snow and drinks with beautiful women.” You crinkled your eyebrow.

 “That is a horrible toast.”

 He shrugged and knocked the drink back. You took your time with a sip.

 “So, what’s your story Fancy?”

 “Fancy, so that’s the name you’re sticking with?”

 He nodded. “Maybe you should pick yours.”

 “Anything I want?”

 “Anything you want,” he repeated.

 You rubbed your chin and thought about it purposefully.

 “Hmm, decisions, decisions.”

 “Maybe I can give you a few suggestions. What about valiant, you know like Prince Valiant who charged into a sword battle with six captors all for his fair maiden.”

 “Nope.”

 “All right, what about Phillip, like Prince Phillip who won Aurora’s heart and helped her save the kingdom.”

 “Uh—hard pass.”

 “Well, then it has to be Triton, like King Triton the king of the seas, he who has the power to control it?”

 “I thought that was Poseidon.”

 “No one cares about Poseidon, it’s King Triton.”

 “Again, nah. I got it. Ready?”

 “Let’s hear what’s better than all my fantastic suggestions.

 You smiled so ready to dash all his hopes. “Puppy.”

 Any humor on his face immediately fell.

 “Puppy? As in an animal?”

 “Yes, why not.  Puppies are energetic, humorous, defensive, always there to help, they pop up out of nowhere are ready for treats.

“How is that me?”

 “You’re clearly energetic, it’s after two in the morning and you’re awake, you seem to think you’re funny with how you always try to read me, you just showed your defensiveness by fighting off my mugger, which also ticks off there to help,” you explained.

 “What about ready for a treat and pops up from nowhere?”

 “Dude you came out of nowhere just now, and as soon as the task was finished your first suggestion was me buying you a drink, hence a treat. I think it sums you up quite well.”

 He didn’t look amused which made you even more amused.

 “So, you skip over all the princes to puppy?”

 “I mean I can add prince in there, prince puppy. Has a nice ring to it.”

 He snorted and shook his head. “Ya know what, whatever you want fancy.”

 “Puppies are always eager to please too.”

 He nodded and took another of his drinks and downed it. you smiled to yourself as you drank your own drink.

 “So we’ve established you’re not from Boston, you’re from New York. What’re you doing in Boston?”

 You didn’t answer right away, you continued to sip your drink not sure you wanted to open this can.

 “Sightseeing.”

 “In Boston? What sights exactly?”

 “Oh you know, Fenway Park.”

 “Uh-huh, what else?”

 “You know the home of coffee; you know bean town.”

 “You know nothing about Boston huh?”

 “Nope.”

He laughed again and shook his head.

 “No one comes to Boston dressed like that to sightsee. Look, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna. I’m not trying to get your life story. Just making conversation.”

 “Are you from here?”

 “Born and raised. I left for a few years but I’m back now.”

 “Where did you go off to?”

 “New York.” He knocked back the third glass and stood. “See, Boston always welcomes the runaways.” He walked away to the bar and you looked after him.

 Maybe he was a semi-good reader of people. Your phone rang again, and you sighed. When you took it out this time the name on the screen was your father. No doubt your mother had gotten him into things. Your father could ride the slippery slope between good cop and coerced bad cop very well. You didn’t know if he were calling as that genuinely good cop or the coerced bad cop. You didn’t want to chance it, you tapped dismiss.

 “Either that is your actual daddy or you’re one of those women who call their paramours daddy.”

 He slipped back into his seat with hands filled with six new glasses. You dropped your phone back into your purse and took your last drink and knocked it back. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He smiled and shrugged.

 “Every woman is a mystery until you unravel the thread.”

 “Why did you leave New York?”

 “When you tell me why you did, I’ll tell you why I did.”

 The two of you stared each other down. Neither of you wanted to back out.

 “What do you do in New York?”

 “I work in real estate.”

 He nodded again. “Ah, a baby tycoon living the real life of Monopoly.”

 You scoffed. If he only knew how right he was.

 “Do you like real estate?”

“It’s all right. It’s what I’m good at I guess.”

 “I’m sure you’re good at plenty of things,” he theorized.

 “Not plenty. I know I do a few things really well. I can negotiate a contract well, I have a good eye for understanding what is trending and what will trend, and I am good at inciting a bidding war to puff a final offer. I’m also good at being the perfect daughter. That I excel at with flying colors.” You knocked back one of the glasses he’d placed on the table and grimaced when you tasted it was Gin.

 “Uuugh, that’s disgusting.”

 “You get used to it.” He drank from one of the glasses and bobbed his head from side to side.

 “That’s fruity and very sweet. I see why you like it.”

 You drank another in silence, you could feel his eyes on you.

 “That can’t be the only thing you’re good at. What about hobbies, things you do for fun outside of closing deals and starting wars.”

 You smiled and shrugged. You really didn’t have time to do many things that were fun. You always had responsibilities. Either you had to be here or there for the image of the family or you were on someone’s arm for the benefit of another. It was exhausting.

 “Come on. Cook?”

 “I’m a horrible cook. I burned boiled eggs once.”

 “That is very sad. Moving on, drawing?”

 “Do stick figures count?”

 “Appalling. Maybe athletic stuff, running, bench pressing, squats?”

 “I see we’re lowering the bar now. Nope, never been into the whole athletic thing. I can run pretty far in heels though. Oh, I have also been given first prize in the Westchester Beauty Pageant four years in a row.”

 “Well, all right that’s something. You must have been good at it four years is impressive.”

 You smiled and he hit your glass before he guzzled it empty. You did the same and knocked back another.

“If you mix it, it’s not half bad.”

 “What else are you good at?”

 “Nothing. My mother said she was happy I was born pretty because then I wouldn’t have to be good at anything to make it far in life. She said my beauty was all I needed to master. So I mastered it. My body is—an Egyptian temple of paradise, my face without a scar. My mother is a very vain woman.”

 He didn’t know what to say. That seemed like something deeply personal but also sad. You were right, you were beautiful. He’d noticed you within seconds of you walking into the bar. It was hard not to. He also sensed there was a lot more to you than just your looks, there had to be.

 “What about you? What are you good at?”

 “Everything. I’m a skilled conversationalist, Fantastic son, brother, and uncle, I volunteer, donate and pay my taxes and I am an unbelievable lover. So there check, check, check.”

 “Oh wow. All of that?”

 He nodded and leaned back. “What can I say?”

 “And an unbelievable lover? Wow, what makes you so unbelievable?”

 “Ah, I can’t tell my secrets. Plus, it’s not something I can tell, these skills have to be shown.”

 Again, your eyes met and remained on each other. A phone rang and he sighed out before he dug in his pocket and looked at his screen. He looked stressed for a few moments before he tapped a button and put the phone back in his pocket.

 “Sorry about that.”

 “A better way to avoid them is to turn it off completely. They’ll get the message loud and clear.”

 He smiled and nodded, hearing his own words come back to him.

 “You know what. You’re right.” He took back out his phone and turned it off showing you the proof of it powering down. “Your turn.”

 You scoffed but didn’t move. You didn’t want to talk to anyone, but you didn’t know if you wanted to be unreachable. Plus, you didn’t know this man, he could kidnap you.

 “I won’t kidnap you.”

 You smirked and shook your head and dug into your purse.

 “This is insane.”

 “Let’s be insane together.”

 You pressed the power off button, and he smiled as he saw it power down. You dropped it back into your purse and smiled.

 “Plus, we both know you weren’t going to answer any of those calls anyway. We can both worry about it tomorrow.”

 “Tomorrow?”

 “Yeah, we have—” He looked at his watch and bobbed his head from side to side. “Five and a half, six hours until a new day begins, I am free for the night, you’re in town with nowhere to go. Whattaya say?”

 “What do I say to what?”

 “Wanna spend the night with me in a completely nonpredator, non-sleazy way?”

 You studied him. He was serious about this.

 “We’re complete strangers. That’s nuts.”

 “No more nuts than first dates where you do the exact same thing. Oftentimes while you’re wishing you were somewhere else. At least we both know we have nowhere else to be and are doing it willingly.”

 “So this is a first date now?”

 “I’m turning over a new leaf and I’m not into labels. I call it two like-minded adults enjoying each other’s company. I can guarantee that by the time we say goodbye you’ll have found something you’re good at.”

 “That’s a hefty promise there prince puppy.”

 “It is one I am completely comfortable making, fancy.”

 You smiled and looked down at your left hand and leaned back in your chair.

 “Come on, don’t make this a big deal. It’s not.”

 “Fine.”

 He smiled again and it made you smile along with him. It was a beautiful smile, one you liked seeing. He then finished the remaining two drinks on the table and stood.

 “Our adventure awaits.” He dropped a hundred-dollar bill onto the table and held out his arm for you. You locked yours with his and the two of you walked out into the snowy cold night.

~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!! ❤️❤️

~~~~~~~~~

TagList: 

@chaneajoyyy @sonjashuterbugjohnson @caramara3 @vannahvannahhh @academic-glowup @lorainnebabyy @patzammit @yourwonderbelle @pennywisesmistress @theblulife @kelbabyblue @bugngiz @disneysdarlingdiva @toniilaney @areubeingserved @thinkxlovexloud @cocothewriter @periodtcevans @southerngracela @bellaamor88 @titty-teetee @pananegra @wellthirsted @sup3rn0va13 @hello-therree  @squeackygee @ab-baybay @zsuzstyina @peggy-potts @amelatonin @lvlyab @sullyosully @renesmeeharelds @capslut2014 @90sinspiredgirl @missyperle @mizcaptainwidow @angrybirdcr @chrisgalore  @marvelfansworld @blowmymbackout @impossiblegiantrebelbasketball  @momobaby227 @rynabarnesrogers @blowmymbackout @heladoom @alyxkbrl @evemej @jennmurawski13 @straightforwardly @titty-teetee @chris-butt

[audiologist-ny]

Hearing Aid Repair in Westchester: A Symphony of Sound Restoration

Introduction:

In the bustling county of Westchester, where the rhythm of life beats to the diverse tunes of its inhabitants, there exists a quiet yet essential service that often goes unnoticed – hearing aid repair. As we navigate the complexities of our daily lives, the reliability of our senses becomes paramount. For those with hearing impairments, a malfunctioning hearing aid can disrupt the harmony of their world. In this blog post, we delve into the world of hearing aid repair in Westchester, exploring the importance of timely maintenance and the skilled professionals who ensure that the music of life continues to play seamlessly.

The Significance of Hearing Aid Maintenance:

Hearing aids are remarkable devices that bring the symphony of sound to individuals with hearing impairments. However, like any intricate piece of technology, they require regular maintenance to function optimally. Dust, moisture, and everyday wear and tear can take a toll on these delicate instruments, affecting their performance. Neglecting the maintenance of a hearing aid not only diminishes its lifespan but also compromises the user's ability to engage fully in conversations and appreciate the nuances of the auditory world.

Common Hearing Aid Issues:

Understanding the common issues that can plague hearing aids is crucial for users to identify when a repair may be necessary. Some of the prevalent problems include:

Reduced Sound Quality: A gradual decline in sound quality may indicate issues with the device's microphone or speaker.

Intermittent Functionality: If the hearing aid works sporadically or cuts out unexpectedly, it could be a sign of electrical problems or battery issues.

Distorted Sound: Distorted or unclear sound can result from problems with the amplifier or receiver.

Feedback or Whistling: An annoying whistling sound, known as feedback, may occur due to improper fit, wax buildup, or damaged components.

Physical Damage: Accidental drops or exposure to moisture can cause physical damage to the hearing aid, affecting its overall performance.

The Role of Professional Hearing Aid Repair:

While some minor issues can be addressed at home, seeking professional assistance is often the best course of action. Professional hearing aid repair services in Westchester are equipped with the expertise and specialized tools needed to diagnose and rectify a wide range of problems. Attempting to fix complex issues without proper knowledge can lead to further damage, emphasizing the importance of entrusting these delicate devices to skilled professionals.

Choosing a Reliable Hearing Aid Repair Service:

When it comes to selecting a hearing aid repair service in Westchester, there are several factors to consider. Look for a service that offers:

Prompt Turnaround: A quick turnaround time ensures that individuals don't have to endure prolonged periods without their essential hearing aids.

Experienced Technicians: Trustworthy services employ experienced technicians who understand the intricacies of various hearing aid models.

Transparent Pricing: Clear and transparent pricing models help users understand the costs associated with the repair process.

Quality Components: Reputable services use high-quality replacement parts to ensure the longevity and effectiveness of the repaired hearing aids.

Customer Reviews and Testimonials: Reading reviews and testimonials from previous clients can provide insights into the reliability and customer satisfaction of a particular repair service.

Conclusion:

In the grand symphony of life, where communication and connection form the melody, the role of hearing aids cannot be overstated. Ensuring their proper functioning through timely and professional repair services is a responsibility we owe to ourselves and our loved ones. In Westchester, where diversity thrives and communities flourish, the need for reliable hearing aid repair services is more pronounced than ever. Let us embrace the harmony of restored sound and appreciate the professionals who make it possible.

In Westchester, when it comes to entrusting your hearing aids to skilled hands, there's one name that resonates – Listen Hear Diagnostics. With a commitment to excellence and a passion for restoring the symphony of sound, Listen Hear Diagnostics stands as a beacon of hope for those seeking reliable and professional hearing aid repair services. Because every note matters, and every voice deserves to be heard.

[saibug1022]

The Breach: Part 3

Word Count: 1.4k

Magnus Bishop x Marcus Sharpe

Part 1, Part 2

It was strange, what small things stuck out to you when everything else was massive. Magnus’s whole life had been turned upside down—he’d been brainwashed by an interdimensional force, was nearly abducted to another realm, had his mind invaded by a resurrected ghost, and was forced to perform an arcane blood ritual that fundamentally altered his physiology and gave him strange fire powers—but as he sat next to the open window of Westchester General all he could think about was that he should be cold. It was the middle of the night, he could hear the wind now that he had his hearing aids in, and he knew how cold it got in Westchester but he didn't even feel a chill.

“All this is really not gonna help your insomnia.”

Magnus glanced over at his boyfriend in the hospital bed in the middle of the room. Magnus could barely look at him. When he did all he could focus on was the bandages wrapped around Marcus's neck and shoulder, covering his burn. The burn Magnus gave him.

“You should be resting,” Magnus muttered. He turned to look back out the window. “You have third degree burns.”

“Come here,” Marcus held his hand out to Magnus. Magnus didn't take it for a minute, hesitant to go anywhere near Marcus after what he did, but right now he couldn't deny Marcus anything. He sighed and moved his chair from the window to the side of Marcus's bed and took his hand carefully. “What happened?”

“When I woke up you were unconscious,” Magnus explained, eyes on the bedsheets. “You were burned. Bad. We got you to the hospital but Noah took Val home because he was pretty much dead on his feet.”

Marcus chuckled and Magnus looked up at him in confusion. What the hell was funny about that?

“Dead on his feet?” Marcus snickered. It took him a moment but eventually Magnus realized and he rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Val was a ghost, haha,” Magnus sighed. “The pun was not intentional.”

“Doesn't make it not funny,” Marcus giggled.

“Your sense of humor cannot be trusted, you're on a bunch of pain drugs,” Magnus teased him only for him to be hit again with why he was in pain in the first place. His face dropped. “Your burn is a light third degree. You're gonna need to keep it covered and they're giving you pain meds and the doctor said it could take at least a month to heal. They're keeping you overnight for observation but they should be able to discharge you tomorrow after you talk to the doctor. Then we can go home and I'll start looking for a new apartment for myself when you're settled.”

“Wait, what? Why?” Marcus's eyes widened. He stared at Magnus like he'd just declared the sky had turned green while Marcus was unconscious.

“Why what?”

“Why are you moving out? Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” Magnus held Marcus's hand in both of his and squeezed it. “You didn't do anything wrong. You probably saved my life.”

Marcus closed his eyes but not before Magnus caught sight of tears gathering in his eyes. Magnus hated it. But not as much as he hated the bandages across Marcus's chest. He'd thought about this for hours and he couldn't see another option. He'd much rather Marcus be heartbroken, or even hate him, and live than be in love with him and die.

Magnus tried to take a deep breath but it shook as he exhaled. He'd broken up with casual lovers before and he never had any trouble but this was so much harder. It wasn't just someone Magnus entertained himself with. This wasn't anyone else, this was Marcus. His Marcus.

“I don't want this,” Magnus swore. His voice shook with tears. “You are the best person I've ever met. You brought a light back into my life that I didn't even realize was missing. I've never had trouble leaving things behind but this…this is the hardest thing I've done. I don't know how to control this. I already hurt you once. I, I can't hurt you again. I won't. Or worse I could…I could kill you. For all I know this CAN'T be controlled.”

“With anyone I meet I've always been scared of getting hurt…I've never been scared to hurt someone else. But I've never loved someone like I love you. I wish this didn't-”

“No,” Marcus shook his head.

“No?” Magnus said. “What do you mean no?”

“No,” Marcus glared at him. A full glare, with less anger than determination and pure stubbornness. “You're not breaking up with me.”

“Is that not my choice?”

“Not when you're being an idiot.”

“I'm being an idiot? After all the arguments and fights we've had about me being reckless and you're pulling this?”

“Yes! Because this isn't reckless! I'm not going to leave you to go through this on your own!”

“Damn it, Marcus!” Magnus yelled and shot to his feet only to see a cyan light from the corner of his eye and he looked over to see a fire in the trashcan next to Marcus's bed. “Shit!”

Magnus closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe and calm himself down. He had a death grip on the back of the chair but he managed to settle his breathing enough that the fire dissipated without setting off the smoke alarm.

“I can't control this,” Magnus said again, frustration still in his tone but masked by a forced calm. “I don't even know if it can be controlled. If it can, it's going to take me ages to get it under control. And in the meantime I'm not exactly stable. I could hurt you, I could hurt someone else. You have a third degree burn from trying to help me. I can’t…”

Marcus held out his hand again and this time Magnus took it without hesitation.

“Of course it won’t be easy,” Marcus said. “It'll probably be dangerous and scary too. But if these powers, or Power, I guess, I'm not sure, if it acts up when you're upset I'm not going to let you run away from everyone you love. The people who love you too.”

“But what if I-”

“You probably will,” Marcus admitted. He reached up with his good arm and brushed his thumb under Magnus's eye, gathering the tears waiting to spill. “But it's okay. And I'm not going anywhere.”

Magnus wasn't a crier. But something about those words, about Marcus swearing not to leave even when Magnus was trying to, that had a sob crawling out of his throat. Internally he scolded himself, reminding himself that Marcus was the one in the hospital with burns Magnus inflicted, but once that first sob escaped he couldn't stop. Marcus pulled him down until Magnus was sitting on the bed and then pulled him further so Magnus was leaning over with his head on Marcus's good shoulder as he just sobbed.

This was all his fault. He'd let his fear of abandoning Osiris bring him back to Westchester over and over despite Si's warnings and he's been pulled kicking and screaming into something that had the potential to destroy his life and worse the lives of people around him. Something else he couldn't control was wrecking his life and this time it was all his fault. He couldn't fight this.

“It'll be okay,” Marcus reassured him. “You don't have to do this on your own this time. We'll be there. We can get you some time off to work on this, we can talk to Val and his I think brother which I'm still confused about, we can talk to Osiris and Amalia, you can handle this. We can handle this. I love you Magnus, I love you so much. Even the really really warm, cyan parts of you.”

Even with sobs wracking his body a small laugh came out with him. Only Marcus would make him laugh right now. It was nice. It was the first time someone told him they weren't leaving and he not only believed him, but he wanted that too. It didn't scare him.

“I love you too,” Magnus murmured. “Fine. You win. We'll go home.”

“Hell yeah I'm the best.”

Magnus laughed again. It blew his mind but he knew right then that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this complete dork of a man. And damn it, he was going to.

Power be damned.

[earnestly-endlessly]

Hello!! I noticed you are excellent at finding and recommending fics so I was hoping you would be able to remember this one. Charles and Erik are both fighting the same war, Erik is an alpha and he doesn’t know that Charles is an omega, Charles is the heir to his kingdom. When Erik finds out, Charles flees and goes back to his kingdom, marries the beta Moira, who dies. They have baby David. Something happens and they are at war again, it ends with them bonded with children but living separately

Hi Anon, thank you for your kind words. It’s great to hear that you’re enjoying my recs. I have two stories in mind that resemble your description, but neither of them is exactly like you´ve described. For instance, the first one does match in that Charles marries Moira and they have David later in the story, whereas Moira dies at the start of the latter. Also, the ending in the first one is happy while the other is more complex and in tune with your description. But both contain Charles having Erik’s children, and Charles having David with Moira. 

I do hope that either of those is the one you’ve been looking for. If not, then I can easily recommend them both, and they do, more or less, fit the bill for what you’ve described.  

Ritual Self–Torture – TurtleTotem

Summary: Shaw is King, Charles is his royal consort and Erik is a Knight/Lord. Shaw is sterile but his kingdom can't find out, so he asks Erik to impregnate Charles. He doesn't know Erik and Charles are in love.

Tuesday Plays the Piper – Sperare

Summary: In a world where the population is barely holding steady, those of either gender who are capable of bearing children are considered a prized commodity. In all places beyond Westchester, their rights are few--and, with Erik Lehnsherr poised to tear down the gates of the city, even that last haven is on the brink of destruction. But, for Charles Xavier, the consequences of conquest may prove to be more personal than political. No one quite knows why Erik is so set on capturing his old friend and partner in the war against Shaw: Charles is no bearer, and he's disinclined to aid Erik in firmly establishing mutant supremacy once and for all. Charles, however, is all too aware of Erik's reasons. Erik knows things about him that no one else does--things which, if brought to light, would would mean surrendering far more than just a kingdom.

[sebeth]

Fantastic Four # 9 - 12

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

 A Brief Summary: Doctor Doom suffers another embarrassing defeat

Debuts:

·         The Ovoids

·         Impossible Man from the planet Poppup in the Tenth Galaxy

·         Willie Lumpkin

Favorite Cover: #12 – The Fantastic Four Meet the Hulk!

Invisible Girl Hostage Count: 5 out of 9 issues

Points of Interest:

·         The issue opens with Reed using his “electronic x-ray camera” with “radioactive film” in an attempt to learn more about Sue’s invisibility power.  Sue urges Reed to hurry as it’s “hot and stuffy” while “Torch keeps his flame on”.  Said Torch is acting as Reed’s lab assistant. Johnny is taking notes while engulfed in flames – except for his hands.  Between the causal use of “radioactive film” and Johnny walking around in flames, it’s a wonder the group lives long enough to battle Doom later on.

·         The FF’s signal flare appears in the sky. The trio attempts to exit the lab but the door is locked. Johnny decides to burn through the door but is stopped by Reed: “Trying to stop you from blowing us up, kid! Did you forget how sensitive that nuclear device is to heat?!” Johnny was completely engulfed in flames only four panels earlier and Reed didn’t seem to care but now it’s a no-go.

·         Is it safe to keep a nuclear device in the middle of New York City? Especially with Johnny and Ben living in the building. The duo engages in destructive rough-housing on a near-daily basis!

·         Reed attempts to stretch his arm to reach the Fantasti-Car so the trio can leave via the window but the strain proves too much. No worries, as Johnny has learned something new: “I can concentrate my flame so much that it burns without heat!” What?!

·         The trio escapes the lab. Reed decides “Let’s forget the Fantastic-Car. We can make better time without it!” Again, what? Johnny, maybe, but not the other two. And this is the era where Johnny randomly loses power due to “exhaustion”. Wouldn’t it make more sense for Johnny not to use his powers until the group has reached the scene of crisis? Especially when you have an awesome car-plane just waiting to be used?

·         The three head to the source of the flare. Sue causes a car crash with her “now you see me, now you don’t” routine. I never understood how Spider-Man was a “public menace” and the X-Men were “hated and feared” by the general public in comparison to the Fantastic Four in the early days of the Marvel Universe. Spider-Man mostly stopped criminals and the X-Men were isolated in Westchester County minding their own business…meanwhile the Four, in the heart of NYC, can barely go an issue without causing a mass panic or massive property damage…many times caused by Ben having a tantrum!

·         The source of the “emergency” is Ben wanting to show off the new statues Alicia has made of the team’s enemies. Sue protests the inclusion of Namor. Reed questions Sue over her feelings for Namor: “I thought we had an understanding.” Sue admits she’s not sure of her own feelings.

·         Johnny’s glad he’s “not old enough to have all those kinds of mushy problems”.  Karl Kessel’s “Human Torch” series contains pre-transformation flashbacks of Johnny flirting with girls. And he’s flirting with Valeria, Princess Pearla, and soon to be dating Dorrie Evans in the “Strange Tales” series. Perhaps Johnny’s referring to “serious” relationships?

·         Doctor Doom has returned to earth! And decides to storm Marvel Comics and terrorize Stan Lee & Jack Kirby with the sight of his unmasked face?!

·         Doom proclaims: “I do no blame you for shrinking from the sight of me! I still cannot bear to gaze upon my face myself! But I must remove my mask at times else I feel it will strangle me!”

·         Reed has the nerve to question Ben: “What makes you so bad tempered all the time?” Seriously, Reed?!

·         We have a fun moment of Johnny & Ben uniting to prank Reed by stretching his clothes.

·         Doom ambushes Reed. Victor explains he was rescued by the Ovoids, an alien race whose “science and culture were a million years ahead of ours”.  Doom learned many abilities from the Ovoids including the ability to switch bodies with another person. Victor promptly switches bodies with Reed.

·         The rest of the team arrives and subdues Doom (Reed). Ben and Johnny are very excited to have captured Doom (Reed) and devise ludicrous ways to imprison him. Not to worry, Reed (Doom) had devised a cell to contain him.

·         Kirby draws some extremely creepy “Evil Reed” facial expressions.

·         Back at the Baxter Building, the rest of the team is overrun by a herd of miniaturized animals: horses, bears, kangaroos, moose, elephants, cows, camels, zebras, birds, etc. The trio scramble to contain the animals and return them to Reed’s lab: “You know how angry he gets if anyone interferes with his work!”  

·         Reed (Doom) returns and the trio questions him – 1) Are these the animals stolen from the zoo and 2) Why are you shrinking animals?

·         Victor spins a story that this “reducing ray” will expand the team’s powers and allow Ben to transform at will. I know Reed is the scientist of the story but that explanation makes no sense. The team chooses not to press the matter of the animal theft and forced experimentation.

·         Doom (Reed) escapes from his cell and seeks the aid of Alicia Masters. Unfortunately for Reed, an invisible Sue was visiting Alicia and knocks him out.

·         Alicia is confused: “How can that be Doctor Doom? There’s an aura of goodness about him…of nobility!” Really, Alicia? You can sense that from an unconscious man in a suit of armor? I wish someone would establish Alicia had minor empathic abilities – otherwise, her “sensing” is ridiculous.

·         Johnny & Ben arrive to defeat “Doom”. Ben is furious that Alicia was threatened: “You tried to scare Alicia, did ya? Nothing can save ya from me now, ya miserable ghoul…I ain’t kidding now! He threatened Alicia! Do ya hear me? He dared to threaten Alicia!”

·         There’s a cute scene where the team takes Doom to the parked Fantasti-car only to discover a group of neighborhood kids palying in it.

·         Johnny and Ben suspect something is off with Reed & Doom so Johnny uses his powers to create a mirage to test their suspicions. I love Silver Age powers – always used in ways that make no sense with actual science.

·         Doom is found out, re-switches bodies with Reed, and shrunk to nothingness by his own reducing ray. The next time Doom achieves god-like powers he should erase everyone’s memories of his ridiculous Silver Age-shenanigans.

·         Issue #11 opens with a cute scene of the team encountering a group of children playing “Fantastic Four”. The team shows off their powers for the children. Johnny wisely reminds the kids “Throwing fireballs is easy for me, fella, but don’t you ever play with fire. It’s too dangerous for little kids.”

·         We meet Willie Lumpkin, the team’s mailman. He volunteers for the team: “I haven’t exactly got any super powers, but I can wiggle my ears real good.”

·         The team goes through their fan mail: Johnny receives love letters; Ben gets pranks from the Yancy Street Gang.

·         Reed has yet another cure for Ben who is understandably wary: “I’m sick of being a guinea pig for you! None of these things ever work right!” Ben takes the cure and transforms back into his human form. Ben, Reed, and Sue are ecstatic. A more cautious Johnny muses to himself: “Poor Ben! If he changes back to the Thing again, I don’t wanna be around to see it!”. Johnny decides to head to the garage to “fool around with my new TR-4!”

·         Reed and Ben recap their meeting in college. Ben was “State U’s football hot-shot”. Despite being polar opposites, “I was a millionaire’ son and he was from the wrong side of the tracks”, the duo quickly became best friends. Their friendship persisted throughout World War II. Ben was “a Marine fighter ace over Okinawa and Guadalcanal” and Reed was “behind the lines, working with the underground for the O.S.S.” The timeline of these events would put Reed and Ben in their late thirties at the time of their transformation into the Fantastic Four.

·         Due to the sliding timescale, the World War II bit has been retconned from Reed and Ben’s past. I think Ben’s time in the military is still part of his background – the era has simply changed. I’m not sure about Reed.

·         Sue had begun dating Reed before he left for the war: “It’s always been you, since we were kids together living next door to each other”. This would be retconned later – Sue and Reed wouldn’t meet until Reed was entering college.

·         Sue brushes off Reed’s devotion as the “shadow of the Sub-Mariner” lies between them. The whole Namor storyline could have been resolved much sooner if it was acceptable for comic book women, or women in general, were allowed to have lustful thoughts about men. Sue hasn’t spent enough time with Namor that didn’t involve threats to her, her family, or the human race in general. Poor Sue isn’t allowed to admit she appreciates Namor’s fabulous body in a tight, small speedo so the audience is left with her swooning over his “gentle”, “conflicted” nature. I love Namor but there has been nothing gentle or conflicted in his FF appearances. Execpt for the time he swam with the dolphins but Sue wasn’t there to witness it.

·         We get yet another recap of the infamous rocket flight. I understand the “every issue could be someone’s first” principle but were at issue #11 and it’s been recapped in half of the books.

·         Sue’s upset because a few pieces of mail state she “doesn’t contribute enough to the team”.

·         Reed defends Sue by saying Abraham Lincoln’s mother didn’t fight but she still contributed?! Kick him, Sue! Kick him!

·         Ben becomes overly excited and turns back into the Thing.

·         The boys surprise Sue with a birthday cake.

·         Impossible Man arrives on Earth, causing confusion and chaos in his wake. The Four battle Impossible Man in the Flamingo restaurant. He eventually becomes bored and leaves the planet. If you’ve seen the Impossible Man of the 2000s Fantastic Four cartoon, you’ve basically read this issue.

·         Johnny uses his powers to create “hypnotic rings” during the fight with the Impossible Man. You’ve got to love Silver Age powers!

·         Issue 12 begins a classic rivalry of the Marvel Universe: the Thing vs the Hulk.

·         Alicia and Ben are leaving a performance of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. Ben comments “I get my kicks from low-down New Orleans Jazz”.

·         The army pours into town and mistakes Thing for the Hulk, prompting a mistaken identity fight.

·         Ben is quite irate over being mistaken for the Hulk.

·         General Ross arrives at the Baxter Building. He wants the Four to locate the Hulk.

·         Ross shows a picture of the Hulk. Sue fades from sight: “The sight of that monster unnerved me so that I lost control of my visibility power!” Really? I don’t buy it. First, it’s only a picture and secondly, she lives with Ben and has battled Skrulls and monsters from Monster Island. It’s not like large creatures are a foreign concept to Sue.

·         Even Ben thinks its bull!

·         The boys show off, proudly proclaiming how he – and he personally – will capture the Hulk. Unfortunately for Johnny, flying around the small room a few times exhausts him flame. I appreciate the time it takes Johnny to master his abilities – it’s more realistic as opposed to the “instant mastery” route but two laps around the living room shouldn’t wipe him out as this point. He’s been the “Human Torch” for months as this point.

·         Reed praises Johnny’s skills as a mechanic: “That flame of his is one of our most potent weapons as well as his mechanical skill.  In fact, I’ll give you a little demonstration! Johnny has just finished modifying our Fantastic-Car!”

·         Johnny encourages Reed: “You tell him, Big Daddy!” In an alternate universe, Johnny married Reed Richards – was that his pet name for him?

·         The Four and the General head to the Southwest to search for the Hulk. The Four meet Bruce Banner and Rick Jones.

·         Reed has “long been an admirer” of Banner’s atomic research. Banner returns the praise: “I’m highly flattered that the most brilliant scientific brain of our time should say that to me”.

·         Johnny both shows-off for and pranks Rick. Neither are impressed with the other. Johnny: “Look at him green with envy! Trying hard not to admit he’s overwhelmed by me!” Rick: “He wouldn’t be so swell-headed if he knew I was the Hulk’s partner!”

·         Johnny tends to dial up the obnoxiousness and showboating when he’s with another teen hero: Spider-Man, Rick Jones, and later, Iceman. Possibly a combination of eagerness to impress/work with someone of his age group and a desire to be the best of said age group.

·         The army base’s saboteur “the Wrecker”, but not the Wrecker, kidnaps Rick Jones causing Bruce Banner to unleash the Hulk.

·         The Four and the Hulk meet up in a “deserted Western ghost town” and fight. Ben finds and frees Rick. Hulk flees the scene.

·         The Four prepare to leave the base. Reed hints to Bruce: “I’ve got a feeling there’s a lot we have to talk about – like you, and Rick, and the Hulk, for instance!”

[46ten]

AH’s “much-beloved” Matthew Clarkson

One of the themes I return to on this blog are all the people who get left out, from those who were obviously prominently placed in AH’s life through family ties - Philip Schuyler, John B. Church - to those who are at the margins because lack of letters or lack of fame pushed them there. In the second category, one can include near lifelong friends Nicholas Fish and John Laurance, and then a long line of others: Rufus King, Nathaniel Pendleton, Oliver Wolcott, William Bayard (his tearful display suggests more than a passing attachment to a fellow lawyer), John Mason, William Jackson, Timothy Pickering, Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, Josiah Odgen Hoffmann, Richard Varick, Richard Harison  etc. etc. (I think people sufficiently know McHenry, Laurens, Troup, Stevens, and G. Morris.) 

Let’s shine the light on Matthew Clarkson for a moment. Here is how John Church Hamilton describes his father’s death scene:

Meanwhile his numerous agonized friends crowded around the mansion where Hamilton lay, waiting through the sad hours each change in his pallid countenance with breathless apprehension. His elder comrades of the Revolution were there - gray, wondering old men, bowed with years - remembering him a youth in the first hours of his glorious anticipations, in the earliest triumphs of his genius and his valor. The loving, sighing companions of his later years, his grateful clients -  the many witnesses of his benevolence were there. They sat under the trees in mourning, silent woe, awaiting the issue, as though some judgment was coming upon the earth. 

At [AH’s] bedside were his wife and children - the grieving clergy - his tearful physician - and his much-beloved Clarkson.*

*footnote: General Matthew Clarkson. In the Revolution distinguished for his chivalry. In after life, for his piety and eminent virtues. The Life of Alexander Hamilton, vol 7, p. 835.

Of all the people who could be named by JCH, Clarkson? Why?

Matthew Clarkson (b Oct 1758) was a native New Yorker from a prominent family with long-established ties (See Clarksons of New York, A sketch for a history). His family intermarried with the De Peysters and Van Cortlandts in the first half of the century. 

Clarkson volunteered for the Army (or according to the source above, was sent by his father to fight when not yet 17). It’s not clear to me when he and AH first met, but considering that Clarkson was staying with William Livingston on 18July1777 (Gen. Nathanael Greene writes to him there), they may have met as early as 1773. In August 1777, Clarkson was given the rank of major and became an aide-de-camp to Maj. Gen. Benedict Arnold.  As Greene wrote to him: “I have the pleasure to acquaint you there is an opportunity now present for you to join the army, I hope to your liking. General Arnold is on his way to the Northern Department, he is in want of an aid-de-camp and I have taken the liberty to recommend you to the General. He is pleased to honor the recommendation and offers you the appointment. You will put yourself in readiness as soon as possible and follow the General to Albany, where you will join his family. Make my compliments to the Governor’s family.” Clarkson was present at the Battle of Saratoga (he’s in the painting as the second to last person on the right; Ebenezer Stevens is the dark haired gentlemen in front of him; Philip Schuyler is a couple of people to the left in brown jacket, non-military dress). He served as Arnold’s aide-de-camp until March 1779, and then became Maj. Gen. Benjamin Lincoln’s aide-de-camp.

Clarkson was taken prisoner upon the capture of Charleston on 12 May 1780, paroled to Pennsylvania, and exchanged that fall. He was present at the surrender of Cornwallis, and in June 1782 requested an extended leave of absence from the army. Clarkson obtained a brevet as lieutenant colonel upon the completion of his military service in late 1783. x 

From G. Washington: 

Major Matthew Clarkson commenced his military Services as a Volunteer early in the present War. In the Year 1777 he received a Majority in the Army of the United States, and was present at the Surrender of Lieut. General Burgoyne at Saratoga, having been active in all the principal antecedent Engagements, which produced that Event—In the Year 1779 was appointed Aide de Camp to Major General Lincoln (now Secretary at War) then commanding Officer in the Southern Department, & in that Character served at the Siege of Savannah. In 1780 he acted as Major of a Corps of Light Infantry during the Siege of Charles-Town. In 1782 He returned to his former Situation as Aide de Camp to Major General Lincoln, and was present at the Reduction of the British Posts of York and Gloucester under the Command of Lieut. General Earl Cornwallis. Soon after this, when Major General Lincoln became Secretary at War, he was appointed his Assistant. In all which Stations, from my own Knowledge and the Reports of the General Officer under whose immediate Orders he has served, I am authorised to declare that He has acquitted himself with great Honour. Given under my Hand And Seal at the Head-Quarters of the American Army the twenty-fourth Day of June in the Year 1782.

Clarkson then worked as a merchant, but mostly did what wealthy and prominent men (”the rich and well-born”) did back then: held a series of prestigious positions, elected and otherwise. I’m just going to copy Wikipedia: 

As a Regent of the University of the State of New York he was presented at the court of French King Louis XVI. He served as a Federalist member of the 13th New York State Legislature in the New York State Assembly for one term from 1789 to 1790, where he introduced a bill for the gradual abolition of slavery in the state.  From 1791 to 1792, he served as U.S. Marshal.  In 1793, he was elected to fill the vacancy, in place of Philip Van Cortlandt, as State Senator in the 17th New York State Legislature representing the Southern District, which consisted of Kings, New York, Queens, Richmond, Suffolk and Westchester counties. He served until 1795 after being reelected to the 18th Legislature, and resigning before he completed his full four year term.He was also a member of the commission to build a new prison 1796-1797 and President of the New York (City) Hospital (1799). In 1802, Clarkson was the Federalist candidate for U.S. Senator from New York but was defeated by DeWitt Clinton. He became President of the Bank of New York in 1804.

In February 1795, Clarkson was appointed commissioner of loans for New York. (See H to George Washington, January 14, 1795).  He resigned this position in September 1801.

On May 21, 1796, Washington nominated Clarkson as the United States commissioner under Article 21 of the treaty signed at San Lorenzo el Real (Pinckney’s Treaty) on October 27, 1795, between the United States and Spain, and on May 24, 1796, the Senate confirmed the appointment.

In 1798 Clarkson became a director of the New York branch of the Bank of the United States. He was also on the committee of the Society for Establishing Useful Manufactures. 

Clarkson’s first wife was the niece of William Alexander, Lord Stirling. His daughter with her married her cousin, the oldest son of John Jay and Sarah Livingston. (Clarkson first married in 1785, which again fits my pet theory that these men generally did not marry until their military service was complete - AH was the outlier among his friends in doing so.) After Mary Rutherfurd’s death in 1786, he married Sally Cornell in 1792. She died in 1803. Clarkson had eight children total; he didn’t name any of them Alexander, though he did name one William Bayard.  Matthew Clarkson died in 1825. 

So what was the relationship between Clarkson and AH like? He’s one of those we don’t get many letters to/from in part because they’re all usually living in NYC. From Founders, we only have two letters, both professional, from AH to Clarkson. There’s only one letter from Clarkson to AH: 

Dear Sir, I have reflected maturely on our conversation of yesterday. The result is, as far as I can with propriety I decline, at present, any military appointment. The duty I owe my Family seems to demand this of me, nor can I believe I give too great weight to this consideration when I consider the very small probability there is of any serious military operations taking place in this Country and the real injury I should sustain by being called from my present pursuits. These however are my reflections, if they are wrong, counsel me otherways, at any rate believe me with the greatest Regard and Esteem Dear Sir Yours very sincerely.  20August1798, Clarkson to AH, Here’s a digital copy of the letter. 

In preparing for his duel with Burr, while AH gave Church power of attorney, he named Church, John Laurance, and Clarkson as trustees for his property (except his books of Divinity). Founders notes that on April 11, 1805, Church, Laurance, and Clarkson purchased the remaining land, an additional 17 acres, that comprised the Grange property. 

Clarkson was one of the pallbearers at AH’s funeral, alongside Oliver Wolcott, Richard Harrison, Josiah Ogden Hoffman, Richard Varick, William Bayard, and  Laurance.

From the Hamilton side, the strongest statements of the friendship between AH and Clarkson come from JCH and EH, oddly enough. She wrote to Clarkson:

“...As you have always been the friend of my dear husband, I now pray you may be the friend of his Son [Alexander Jr.]....could you permit him sometimes to accompany you in your walks, that he might hear from you thou just sometimes of Religion as well as thou on Other subjects that have always marked your character. ” 17Sept1804, EH to Clarkson; credit: runawayforthesummer

And 25 years later: 

I introduce to your kindness and civilities the sons in law of your respected Friend General Clarkson [a] particular friend of my Hamilton.” 10Apr1830, EH to Marquis de Lafayette, credit: runawayforthesummer

I have not searched for Clarkson’s letters to others to see if more can be ascertained there. I’ll continue to wonder why JCH specifically noted Clarkson’s presence, and what he meant to the Hamilton family. Here’s a pic of the Stuart painting of Clarkson from 1794; he’s wearing his Society of the Cincinnati badge. (Looks like Trumbull based his figure of Clarkson on this one.)

[thewayiseeitis]

A year in review - my Covid story

For someone constantly chasing some unknown prize, the beginning days of COVID-19 came as an odd relief - no place to be, no planes, trains or automobiles to catch and unexpected time on my hands. My husband and I have been married for five years (thanks to a small Supreme Court ruling in 2015) but we’ve been together for nineteen. Because of work travel, much of our relationship has been spent parting, reuniting, readjusting and then doing it all over again. Now, quality time could be spent, home projects could be completed and binge-watching seasons of shows “I always wanted to see” was a possibility. And that’s the way it was for a while, until the reality of a global pandemic made its presence known.

First infected was my uncle, Butch to his family, a widower without children who was struggling with the unforgiving thief, dementia. He was still living independently, in a one-bedroom apartment that he spent his entire adult life occupying. Butch’s apartment was in a five-family building in Rye, NY; a building passed down through family hands since 1932.

Once Butch tested positive for COVID-19, he begrudgingly began his quarantine, receiving deliveries of his favorite fast foods from his trusted caregiver, who now could only communicate with him through the heavily varnished wood door of his first-floor apartment. When his aide informed us that the muffled responses had gone silent, we knew we had to get Butch to the hospital, well-knowing that he was entering a den of crowded uncertainty.

Next infected was my Dad, who passively entered an amicable battle with COVID-19 at home, not feeling awful but continually waiting for the adversary to tire of him and retreat.

Next, was my sister-in-law, an otherwise healthy and vibrant woman, who held onto her faith in the administration in place and their handling of the pandemic.

I remember the day we had to face the fact that Dad was just not getting better. “Do you want to go to the hospital, Dad?” “No” he responded quickly, “I’m afraid that once I go in they’ll find all kinds of shit.” “I hear you, Dad...but we have two choices - one, you stay home and keep trying to get better on your own, or two, we get in front of the 8-ball and get you to the hospital so you can have access to everything available to treat this thing...and not wait till it’s too late.” It’s difficult parenting a resistant parent who doesn’t want to face the shifting dynamic. But this time my Dad heard me, and my younger brother (his trusted buddy who was nearby) took him to the hospital that very day. Because of COVID restrictions, my brother could only watch as our 84-year-old father, stooped with age, walked bravely into the emergency room...alone.

So now, the two patriarchs of the family are in Greenwich Hospital. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the area, Greenwich, CT borders my hometowns of Port Chester and Rye, NY...both in Westchester County, where the first documented case of COVID-19 was detected...the county that still remained the emblazoned, red epicenter of the virus.

I’ve left out one important detail...my 81-year-old mother, Lucia, also struggling with dementia but losing her fight, as she was now bed-ridden and without words to share the simplest of feelings. My sister helped arrange a wonderful support system for my Mom; women to bathe her, feed her and sing soothing songs to her in various languages she’d never understand. These women passed the baton daily, coming together as a fully functioning machine...during the days. The nights, my Dad’s domain...or they were. Now, with Dad in the hospital, night shifts needed to be shared between me and my sister, because my brother had to quarantine with his (slowly recovering) wife.

So, me and my sister find ourselves in charge. Between the oldest child and first-born baby boy, all goes smoothly - as one would expect from two over-achieving Italian-Catholic kids. We have a schedule with shifts included, lists of medications and a folding table, passed down from my grandma Jane, as a make-shift desk in the living room. All seemed to be running smoothly, until the day the façade cracked: “The ground is falling out from beneath us” my breathless sister said over the phone. She was calling me on her way home from work - a kindergarten and pre-K principal trying to make sense of “daycare pods” and trying to train ornery toddlers to embrace the piece of fabric suffocating their every breath. “I was exposed at work and I have to quarantine for 14 days.” I realize I have the power to make my sister feel better - “Don’t worry, I can stay.” Relieved, my sister audibly exhales and in the absence of any better phrase simply says, “thank you.”

So here I am, living with Mama Lucia, who barely recognizes me and who might be completely unaware that we are in the middle of the worst pandemic seen worldwide in over a century. I take my job seriously - making sure Mom’s medications are ready on time, waking up throughout the night to give her thickened water so she stays hydrated and talk to (what feels like) a bottomless well where the sounds never land. I get to know Lucia’s health-care team better and fall in love with them more every day. And through it all, my Italian mama holds onto her passion for food - eating 3 times a day, even the puréed mystery meats, and her aides are all too happy to indulge her one last vice. However, one night as I try to fall asleep on the blow-up mattress centered on the oak living room floor of my childhood, I hear coughing - no, not coughing, gurgling - the sound of a person drowning on their own fluids. I rush to my Mom’s room and the site of her helpless, grasping for air doesn’t settle well on this gay son who knows his job is to always do better.

I start with more gelatinous water but that doesn’t help - wait, is it making it worse? So, I move on to Vicks Vapor Rub, an old-time family favorite that benefits more from the touch of a loved one than from its eucalyptus and menthol properties. But still, the gurgling gets worse. At a loss for any other options, I climb onto the motorized hospital bed (that provides Mom her last sense of mobility), lift her rigid frame off the pillow and sit her up to ease the pressure on her lungs. I hold a tissue to her mouth and scream a command I hope will penetrate the haze of her demented state - “SPIT!!” And she does. This eases her a bit but unfortunately, we’re not out of the woods. “I think we should consider putting her on hospice care” my sister says to me over the phone the next day. “It’s not a death sentence - many people are on hospice for years - it just means you need more help.” We talk to Dad and ultimately all agree that is time to move to a new phase of treatment.

Looking back, I can see that my Mom’s health started to fail in the absence of my father. Dementia or not, 60 years of marriage informed Lucia’s understanding that something was wrong - a feeling of unfamiliarity in a life that my Dad had worked devotedly to keep familiar.

Meanwhile in the hospital, Uncle Butch continues to rage in the Covid wing, ripping off his oxygen and making failed attempts to get himself out of bed. Dad, only a few doors away, slowly gets better; the cocktail of steroids and Remdesivir magically relieve the weight from his chest and lungs. Simultaneously, my sister is now out of quarantine and I can pass the baton back again. I ask her to assess Mom’s condition because “this feels different.” And then, after two weeks of waking up to the fading oak floors of my parents living room, I get to go home and sleep on an elevated mattress made of coil and foam and fall comfortably asleep, next to the body heat of my husband.

As Dad gets better, Butch gets worse. After his wife passed, I became my uncle’s health care proxy so I am the point of contact. The medical professionals trying to save his life are truly amazing - calling at all hours of the day and night to keep me informed as his situation changes from threatening to dire. Recognizing the inevitable exit my uncle is now about to take, the hospital’s family liaison suggests a zoom call so he and we can share one last bit of time together. The liaison even manages to connect my Dad with an iPad (only a few doors down from Butch) so he too can have closure in a time when visitations are forbidden. So, on that late November day Butch’s nieces, nephews, grand-nieces and his beloved brother-in-law gathered via the amazing powers of the internet to say goodbye. I want to remember that he recognized us and that he was eased by our “presence.” It was the one time in my life I was grateful for his dementia and appreciative of him not having a full grasp on the situation. Approval for morphine that night to keep him comfortable and he was gone the next day.

In the meantime, at 84, Dad continues to improve and the hospital is anxious to free up his bed. But he can’t go home and be with Mom and put her at risk. So, we focus on our uncle’s now vacant apartment - a Covid den where he unsuccessfully battled the enemy he never wronged. This is where Dad can quarantine after being released from the hospital, but not until every surface and crevice is disinfected. We call a licensed “Covid Sanitzer” who is not interested in working on personal homes. So instead, me and my sister mask up, glove up and embellish ourselves with plastic garbage bag ponchos and clean and clean and clean until the apartment is worthy of our Dad’s return.

When he arrives, Dad is unable to climb the steep set of eleven brick steps to the apartment we prepared for him -- COVID continues its hold on his lungs and continues to compromise his physical endurance. Instead, he is lifted on a chair by a caring and compassionate team of EMTs. It is a young Black woman who catches my Dad’s attention - “You’re a strong one! -- a joke to ease the vulnerability I imagine he felt surrendering himself to the strength of a gender he grew up being told was weak. Now this young, strong woman of color could do something this old paisano could not...bring him home. #joelangworth #joeylinguiti #mycovidstory