#(has done this since anamaria)

[toestalucia]

great news everyone cygames gave the people another month to start & read 177 chapters of gbf before dropping the most important story update of all time

[hanahanumana]

From AnaMaria Abramovic on Fb

Paste magazine has done an article about Michael and how underrated he is in Good Omens and I found a transcript since it's behind a paywall. Here's the link if anyone wants to subscribe. 💙

https://www.pastemagazine.com/tv/amazon-prime-video/good-omens-michael-sheen-underrated-performance-explained-streaming

There’s so much to love about Prime Video’s Good Omens. A delightful adaptation of the popular Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett novel of the same name, the series is romantic, thoughtful, hilarious, and heartfelt by turns. The story of the almost-apocalypse and what comes afterward, it wrestles with big concepts like destiny, free will, and forgiveness, all framed through the lens of an unorthodox relationship between an angel and a demon whose love for one another is a key to saving the world.

As anyone who has watched Good Omens already knows, nothing about this series works without the pair of lead performances at its center. Stars David Tennant and Michael Sheen—who play the demon Crowley and the angel Aziraphale, respectively—have the kind of lighting-in-a-bottle chemistry that’s the stuff of legend, and their characters’ every interaction conveys both their deep affection for one another and the Earth they’ve made their home. Their romance is the emotional linchpin around which most of the series turns, and their heartbreaking separation in the Season 2 finale is so devastating precisely because we’ve seen how necessary the two are to each other’s lives.

But it’s Sheen’s performance in that final scene that really twists the knife. As Aziraphale’s face crumples following his and Crowley’s long-awaited kiss, the actor manages to convey what feels like every possible human emotion in the span of less than thirty seconds as the angel realizes what he has both had and just lost. The moment is emotionally brutal to watch, particularly after sitting through five and a half episodes of Aziraphale looking as lovestruck as the lead in any rom-com. Sheen makes it all look effortless, shifting from giddy joy to devastated longing and everything in between, and we really don’t talk enough about how powerful and underrated his work in this series truly is.

Though he’s half of the central duo that makes Good Omens tick, Sheen’s role often tends to get overshadowed by his co-star’s. It’s not difficult to see why, given that Tennant gets to spend most of the show swanning around in tight trousers looking like the Platonic ideal of the charming bad boy, complete with flaming red hair and dramatic eyewear. Tennant also benefits from Crowley’s much more sympathetic emotional arc. I mean, it’s hard not to love a cynical demon with a heart of gold who’s been pining after his angelic best friend for literal millennia even after being cast out from Heaven. Of course, viewers are drawn to that—likely a lot more easily than the story of an angel who’s simply trying the best he can to do the right thing as he wrestles with his role in God’s Ineffable Plan. Plus, let’s be real, Tennant’s sizeable Doctor Who fanbase certainly doesn’t hurt his character’s popularity.

As a performer, Sheen has a long history of playing both real people (Tony Blair, David Frost, Brian Clough) and offbeat villains (Prodigal Son’s Martin Whitly, Underworld’s Lucian, the Twilight Saga’s Aro). In some ways, the role of a fussy, bookish angel is playing more than a bit against type for him—Gaiman himself has said he originally intended for Sheen to be Crowley—but in his capable hands, Aziraphale becomes something much more than a simple avatar for the forces of Good (or even of God, for that matter). With a soft demeanor and a positively blinding smile, Sheen’s take on the character consistently radiates warmth and goodness, even as it contains surprisingly hidden depths. The former guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden who gifted a fleeing Adam and Eve his flaming sword and befriended the Serpent who caused their Fall, Azirphale isn’t a particularly conventional angel. He enjoys all-too-human indulgences like food and wine, runs a Hoarders-esque bookshop that never seems to sell anything, and spends most of his time making heart eyes at the being that’s meant to be his hereditary adversary.

Given the much more difficult task of playing the literal angel to Tennant’s charming devil, Sheen must find a way to make ideas like goodness and forgiveness as interesting and fun to watch as their darker counterparts. It’s a generally thankless task, but one that Sheen tackles with gusto, particularly in the series’ second season, as Good Omens explores Aziraphale’s slowly evolving idea of what he can and cannot accept in terms of being a soldier of Heaven. His growing understanding that the truth of creation is colored in shades of grey and compromise is often conveyed through little more than Sheen’s deftly shifting expressions and body language.

Our pop culture consistently struggles to portray the idea of goodness as something compelling or worth watching. Explicitly “good” characters, particularly those who are religiously coded, are frequently treated as the butt of some sort of unspoken joke they aren’t in on, used to underline the idea that faith is a form of naivety or that kindness is somehow a weakness. For a lot of people, the entire concept of turning the other cheek is a sucker’s bet, and believing in something greater than oneself, be it a higher power or a sense of purpose, is a waste of time. But Good Omens is a story grounded in the idea that faith, hope, and love—for one another, God, and the entire world—are active verbs. And nowhere is that more apparent than in Sheen’s characterization of the soft angel whose old-fashioned waistcoats mask a spine of steel and who refuses to give up—on Crowley, on humanity, or on the idea that Heaven is still something that can be saved.

Though he and Tennant have pretty much become a matched set at this point (both on and off-screen), Sheen’s performance has rarely gotten the critical accolades it deserves. (Tennant alone was nominated for a BAFTA for Season 2, and Sheen was categorized as a supporting actor when the series’ competed in the 2019 Saturn Awards.) But it is his quiet strength that holds up so much of the rest of the show around him, and Sheen deserves to be more frequently recognized for it. That he makes it look so easy is just another sign of how good his performance really is.

[lantur]

Castlevania: “The Journey,” Part Two

Summary: The story of Trevor and Sypha, post season two. [Part two: Trevor and Sypha reunite with Sypha’s Speaker caravan, and take an unexpected detour in their travels. Part one, and the entire story, is available on Archive of our Own under the same title and author name.]

-

They stay at Alucard’s castle for two weeks, and the time passes too quickly. The three of them spend a considerable part of it in the Belmont library, gathering information about the supernatural enemies they have yet to face. They find a map of Wallachia and cover it in notes with information that all of them have heard about what creatures wreak havoc, and where. In addition to the night hordes and vampires that have been roaming around the country since Dracula summoned them, nightwraiths have been spotted in the small towns and villages of the east. There are stories of strange creatures called skinwalkers coming out of the larger cities as well.

There are four towns on the map where Alucard has heard of vampire witches that suck the blood of infants and children while they sleep at night, and then turn into moths or bees to make their escape. “Shtriga,” he says, tapping the spots on the map. “You can’t just stake them. You’ll need holy water, and plenty of it. You can’t douse them in it until you force them to cure the kids they’ve been feeding on. Otherwise the kids will never recover their strength, and they’ll waste away and die.”

“Great,” Trevor mutters, taking notes. There are only so many books they can carry with them, so both of them have filled scrolls with notes. “Should be easy enough.”

“You’ll have your work cut out for you,” Alucard says, looking troubled. “Where are you headed first?”

“We have to deal with the shtriga, so I figure we’ll start in Busteni.” Sypha eyes the map, frowning. “We’re taking some time to meet up with my Speaker caravan first, though. It’s something I wanted to do when we left last time, but we got sidetracked with those vampires in Rupea. I haven’t seen my grandfather since Gresit, and I hope he’s well.”

She and Trevor set out at sunrise the next morning. Alucard embraces her, and even Trevor, before they go. “Travel safely,” he says. He gives them a small smile, but she can still see the worry in his eyes. He stands on the front steps of the castle until their wagon disappears from view.

Both of them are quiet, lost in their own thoughts. “That place is going to seem really quiet now,” Trevor says, at last. “I’m glad we went. It was good for all of us. But I think that the next few days are going to be hard for him.”

Sypha takes his arm. He’s gotten so much more considerate than he was when they had first met. “We’ll be back by midwinter,” she says. “It’s just a few months from now. And by then, I should have finished writing the sealing spell that will disguise and lock up the castle and the library. Alucard can join us when we resume our journeys after the new year.”

It takes them just four days of traveling from town to town and asking around to track down her Speaker caravan. They are in Timisoara, helping rebuild a portion of the town that had been destroyed in terrible mudslides earlier in the year. Sypha spots her grandfather while he is carrying a pile of lumber, moving slowly and deliberately toward a building site. She shouts at him from across the town square, and Trevor has to hold her back from dashing right across the road and into the path of several horses pulling carts of building equipment.

She rushes to him, Trevor close behind, as soon as the coast is clear. Trevor relieves her grandfather of the pile of lumber, lifting the heavy load out of his arms with ease. “I’ll take care of all of this,” he says, nodding toward the site and the other Speakers at work. “You and Sypha should go catch up. I saw a tea stall in the other side of the street. I can find you there later.”

“Thank you,” Mateo says, and he hugs her close. Sypha smiles at Trevor in thanks, before returning her grandfather’s embrace. She breathes in deeply, trying to contain the sudden swell of emotion. He smells of ink and peppermint, just like he always has, and sawdust, from the labor of the day. She hasn’t seen him in more than four months, and he seems smaller than she remembers, frailer.

“It’s been so long,” she says. “I’m so sorry I didn’t find you sooner.”

“I knew you were all right,” her grandfather replies, pulling back. He touches her face gently, as if he can’t believe she’s really there. “Every so often I hear stories of your travels through Wallachia. A few weeks ago we ran into a merchant from Braila who saw a young woman in a Speaker’s cloak set a vampire alight.” He smiles wryly. “It couldn’t have been anyone else.”

Sypha takes his arm, and they walk to the tea stall together. Upon seeing their blue cloaks, the proprietor immediately brings over two steaming cups of chamomile tea, and leaves with a smile. Sypha wraps her hands around the hot mug, breathing in the delicate aroma. “It’s wonderful to see Speakers being treated well here. I haven’t forgotten what happened in Gresit.”

“We’ve been helping with the rebuilding effort here, and they’ve been very kind to us. The town’s councilman even offered to let us stay through the winter.” Mateo sighs. “We’ll consult together, of course, but I might take them up on that offer. Traveling in winter is getting more difficult every year.”

“You should stay here.” Sypha looks at him anxiously. “Trevor and I have been doing everything we can to exterminate the night hordes and the vampires that Dracula summoned, but it’s still not safe. I don’t like to think of you and the caravan on the roads, or camping out in the open, in the long nights of winter.”

Her grandfather pats her on the hand. “Don’t worry. I think we’ll stay. Anamaria and Elena are both near due, and it will be better for them to be here than on the road in winter.”

Sypha curls her fingers around his. “How have you been?” she asks. “Tell me everything that’s happened since Gresit.”

Mateo smiles. “I would rather hear from you first,” he says. “The things I’ve heard defy belief.”

“It’s all true,” Sypha says. She relays her story as thoroughly but concisely as she can, starting from Gresit, and the road to Arges, to their time in the Belmont library, the fight against Dracula and his generals, and then her travels with Trevor through Wallachia. Her grandfather listens silently, giving her his rapt, undivided attention.

“It is amazing,” he says, after she is finally finished. The sun has sunk in the sky and the two of them have almost finished an entire pot of tea between them. “It is incredible. This is a story that will be told for ages to come. Sypha…” He shakes his head, looking somewhat dazed. “I am torn. You can’t imagine how proud I am of you. But I am worried. I know that you are saving lives, helping countless people, but at the same time, part of me wishes you had just rejoined our caravan after Dracula fell.”

Sypha looks at him sadly. “I know,” she says, and she reaches across and takes both of his hands. “But this is my calling, as surely as being a Speaker was yours and Mother’s and Father’s. I’ve seen what the night hordes and the vampires do to innocent people. I’ve seen how they prey on us. I won’t be able to rest as long as I know that they’re out there.”

Mateo’s shoulders slump somewhat. “I always suspected your calling lay elsewhere,” he says, and he looks down at the table. “Your parents did, as well. It gives me an amount of comfort to know that at least you’re not alone on this path.”

Sypha thinks of Trevor, and of Alucard. “No,” she says. “I’m not.”

Her grandfather clears his throat. “Is he good to you?” he asks softly.

Sypha looks up at him, startled. “Trevor? Yes, of course. He’s my best friend. And he’s a remarkable man. I couldn’t ask for a better companion on this journey.” She pauses, tilting her head to the side. “What is it?”

“It’s bittersweet, hearing you say that.” Mateo laughs softly, but there’s pain in it. “Your mother said the same thing to me, once. Paulo is my best friend, she told me, around half a year after they met.”

Sypha swallows hard, setting her cup of tea down. Even after all these years, it’s still so hard to talk about her parents, even to think about them. “I didn’t know that.”

Mateo nods. “They were married the next year.”

Sypha blushes. She had been able to deny it to Alucard, for a time, but she can’t lie to her grandfather. “I…”

“I trust your judgement, Sypha,” her grandfather says simply. “If Trevor Belmont has your regard, then I know he is a good man, and worthy of you. But I beg you, please, be careful. The Belmont name still is not looked favorably upon in Wallachia. The Church has placed a target on his back.”

“Grandfather…”

“I know the story of the Belmont family,” her grandfather says. “Catina Tihomir was an armorer’s daughter who caught the eye of Daniel Belmont. They married and had one son, Trevor. You know the rest.”

Sypha closes her eyes. Catina and Daniel. Trevor’s never mentioned his parents’ names. “I do,” she whispers.

“The mob drew and quartered Daniel, and they burned Catina at the stake, as a witch. They would have done the same to Trevor, if he hadn’t escaped.”

She feels sick all of a sudden, and she grips the table to steady herself. Alucard’s mother had been burned as a witch too. It makes her stomach turn, to think of the agony that Catina and Lisa had suffered in their final moments. Her own mother had died of the plague, and it had been a cruel death, but at least it had not been murder.

“Catina was the last woman who fell in love with a Belmont,” her grandfather says. He looks so terribly sad. “I wouldn’t have the same thing happen to you. I couldn’t bear it, Sypha. I couldn’t bear losing you.”

Sypha takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “I know,” she says. She takes his hand again, trying to comfort him. “I’ll be careful. We’ll be careful. And Trevor would protect me with his life.”

Her grandfather wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Don’t apologize. I know how deeply you care.” Sypha leans forward, tenderly wiping his other eye with her sleeve. “I have something for you, and I hope it helps to assuage your worries.”

Her grandfather watches as she pulls two scrolls from her travel-worn satchel. She unrolls one in front of him, and the other in front of her. “It’s a way for us to communicate,” she explains. “I got the idea from these incredible mirrors in Dracula’s castle and the Belmont library. I placed an enchantment on the scrolls. If you write on yours, the message will appear on my scroll, and vice versa. The messages disappear after a couple of days, so we’ll be able to continue reusing the scrolls.”

Mateo raises his eyebrows. “Amazing,” he says. “I’m… Well, I’m not surprised that you were able to do such a thing. I am surprised that you’ve branched out from nature magics. Those were always your passion.”

“They still are, but necessity is the mother of invention. I needed a reliable way to stay in touch with you, and with Alucard. I left one of these scrolls with him as well.”

“This does make me feel better,” her grandfather admits. He rolls up the scroll and tucks it carefully into his own satchel, and he gives her a long look, as if trying to make up for lost time. “Will you and Trevor stay with us for a few days?”

Sypha shakes her head ruefully. “I wish we could,” she says. “I’m sorry. We’ll spend the night, and leave at sunrise.”

Mateo nods. “I understand. I’m glad you’ll share a meal with us, at least. I’m looking forward to getting to know Trevor a little better. From what you’ve told me, he seems very different from the man I met in Gresit.”

Sypha laughs. “Thankfully, yes.” She takes his hands again. “Thank you for understanding. And for your support. It means the world to me.”

“I love you, Sypha,” he says simply. “No matter where you go and what dangers you face, I always want you to carry that with you.”

“I love you too, Grandfather.”

-

She and Trevor set out early the next morning, as she had said. The enchanted scroll is a small comfort, yes, but parting from her grandfather hurts as badly as it did in Gresit. Sypha keeps her composure for his sake, but on the road away from Timisoara, she can’t hold back her sniffles. In sharp contrast to his demeanor the last time she had bid farewell to the Speakers, Trevor silently puts his arm around her and holds her for a long while.

-

The days and weeks pass, turning into months. They exterminate four shtriga across four towns spanning one hundred and twenty miles. It takes them a week and a half in Napoca to find and kill the skinwalker, which Sypha thinks is more horrifying even than vampires and the creatures of Dracula’s night hordes. Those demons are still out there, though their numbers are fewer than they were - both due to her and Trevor’s efforts over the months, as well as certain rituals Alucard has been working on to send them back to the evil realms from which they came.

And there are still vampires to contend with. So many vampires. Occasionally, Sypha thinks back to how naive she had been, in the days after Dracula was defeated and she had invited Trevor to journey with her. She had thought that fighting monsters would be an adventure.

It is true that she and Trevor both thrive on it. They both love the rush of adrenaline, the exhilaration, the thrill of being locked in battle, fighting for their lives, and prevailing due to their own skill. Even Trevor has come to share her appreciation for problem-solving - playing detective, as he calls it. They have spent hours upon hours in long discussions and debates about how to identify, outmaneuver, and kill their more elusive enemies like the skinwalker, or certain vampires, or the shtriga. Still, though, this is not adventure. It is work. Bloody, dangerous, never-ending, exhausting, work. It just happens to be work that they love.

Trevor approaches her one morning early in October. It had been the first truly chilly night of the season, and Sypha is still shivering a little as she tends to the horses. They had grazed early in the morning, but she feeds them each two apples anyway, which they gobble from her hands, eyes bright and tails flicking.

“You spoil them,” Trevor says as he comes up behind her. Though the clouds have dispersed somewhat, allowing weak rays from the rising sun to fall on them, it’s still cold enough that his breath fogs in the air.

Sypha pats Ginger, the chestnut, on the flank. “They work hard for us. They deserve it.”

“Those were our last apples, and we’re out of bread, cheese, butter, and all of our other fruit, too. What do you think about taking some time to restock our supplies?”

“That should be fine,” Sypha says, wiping her hands off on the horses’ blankets. “Zrenjanin is the closest town to here, right? And it’s still on the way to Novi Sad. We should be there in a few hours.”

“Actually,” Trevor says casually, leaning against Ginger, who snorts. “I think we should go to Nis.”

Sypha raises an eyebrow at him. “Nis? Isn’t that east of here? By a good twenty miles, I think. You must be confused.”

She moves back to the wagon, and Trevor falls into step with her. “Me? Confused? Never.”

“But why do you want to go to Nis? It’ll be almost evening by the time we reach there.”

“They have great markets in Nis,” Trevor says emphatically. “Excellent prices. And absolutely fantastic cheese.”

Sypha gives him a skeptical look. “You want us to travel hours out of our way…for cheese.”

“Fantastic cheese,” Trevor corrects. “And good bread, too.”

Sypha stops dead and pokes him in the chest. “What are you not telling me, Belmont?”

Trevor shifts from foot to foot, looking somewhat evasive. “Nothing! Where’s the trust in this partnership?”

“Evaporated with the morning dew, I think.”

“Very poetic,” Trevor teases. “You forget that I’m older and wiser than you, I’ve seen a lot of markets, and I have legitimate strong feelings about the best of them.”

“First of all, you are only three years older than me, hardly a venerated elder,” Sypha sniffs. “Secondly, I’ve seen you eat, and I don’t think you can even tell the difference between different types of breads and cheeses. Now, tell me why you have your heart set on Nis, or I’ll start singing my song to the horses.”

She had chosen the best possible threat. “Please don’t sing,” Trevor says hastily, and she smirks, pleased. He shoves his hands into his pockets and heaves a sigh. “Fine. You win. Nis is a big harvest town, and it’s the peak of the apple harvest season. That means cider.”

Sypha rolls her eyes. “Cider? Can’t you get that anywhere?”

“No, no,” Trevor says, waving the suggestion away as if it were completely ridiculous. “I have to drink the cider in Nis. The pub there serves the most amazing cider, Sypha.” He actually grips both of her shoulders, looking frighteningly impassioned about the topic. “It’s a dream come true. It’s heaven in a tankard. I go every year. Every year, five different varieties of apples, five different varieties of cider.”

Sypha tries to take a step back before he can start lecturing her on the nuances of different flavors. “You are a very strange man.”

Trevor holds onto her. “That may be true. But if we go to Nis today, I’ll owe you one.”

“I’m pretty sure you already owe me at least three or four.”

Trevor gives her his most charming smile. “Shall we add another to the list?”

Sypha feels her resolve weaken. “Fine,” she sighs. “We’ll go to Nis and you can drink your apple juice.”

The look Trevor gives her is so appalled that she dissolves into laughter.

-

They arrive at Nis late in the afternoon. They stable the horses at an inn a half mile outside town, as they usually do, and walk into town. It’s a small town, and as soon as they arrive, Sypha notices the amount of bustling activity in the streets around them. It is a little unusual for this time of day, when most are returning home to prepare the evening meal and spend time with their families. But today, there are so many people out. All of them are wearing red, yellow, orange, all the warm colors of the autumn leaves, chatting excitedly to one another, walking in large and small groups. Many of the women have little crowns of autumn leaves resting on their heads, or braided into their hair. Sypha smooths down the blue fabric of her Speaker’s cloak somewhat self-consciously. There are garlands on the homes that they pass, and lit candles, dyed yellow and orange, in the windows of every shop they walk past. She hears music in the air too, the faint sound of strings and harps and lutes. The sense of excitement around them is almost tangible.

“The pub isn’t too far from here,” Trevor says, almost salivating. “They serve this savory pie with apple and cheese too, I bet you’d like that. And they have chicken. They roast them with apples and sweet potatoes. It’s all crispy on the outside, and soft on the inside.”

“Supplies first. Though that pie does sound good,” Sypha admits, resting her hand on her stomach. She looks around at the decorated shopfronts, and at the stalls in the market. The vendors have baskets upon baskets piled high with apples, corn, beets, radishes, turnips, cranberries, pumpkins, squash…  

“Trevor?” she asks, something suddenly occurring to her. “Have we arrived on the day of the autumn harvest festival?”

“Yeah, I guess,” he says. “It’s happened to me a few years before, that I show up on the day of the festival. It’s a good deal for us. More than half off all food and drink at the pub.”

“It must be enjoyable.” Sypha smiles at a small group of children that go racing past, holding miniature toy scarecrows. “I’ve seen quite a few festivals around Wallachia with my Speaker caravan, but I haven’t been to an autumn harvest festival since I was fourteen.”

Trevor shrugs. “They do dancing and stuff in the town square. There’s archery, axe-throwing, hammer-throwing. They have bobbing for apples too, corn-husking races, and wheelbarrow races. I’ve competed in the martial stuff for prize money, but I’m not much for any of that other stuff. When I was seventeen, I I tried the wheelbarrow race with a couple of guys I met at the pub.”

“Oh, really? How did that end?”

“I broke two of my toes and got into a fight with the other team,” Trevor says sourly. “Stuck to the martial competitions and the pub after that. Every year, I earn my prize money and head straight into the pub and straight out.”

Sypha sighs. “You would.”

“Tell you what, though. I’ll show you around the rest of the festival after we’re done buying our supplies.” Trevor grins, and as always, she’s momentarily struck by how much younger and more carefree it makes him look. “Maybe I should give the wheelbarrow race another shot. It might go better with you pushing me.”

Sypha can’t help but giggle at the mental image. “Dream on, Belmont.”

They agree to split up for supplies and meet in front of the pumpkin stall in an hour. Sypha finishes her shopping for bread, cheese, salt, and butter in less than half that time. She leaves the market stalls behind, wandering to the other store-fronts. A bookstore catches her eye, and a garment store. She hesitates, and then impulsively enters the garment store.

Dresses for women are arranged on a splintering table near the front. They are cut simply, in plain fabric. Many of them have embroidery at the collar or sleeves, along the hem of the skirt or sleeves, or trailing up the skirt. It is the colors of the dresses that capture her attention. Several of them are harvest colors, red, orange, and yellow, to match the colors of the festival. Sypha brushes her fingers against them tentatively. She’s always worn blue. She loves blue. It reminds her of the sky, and rushing rivers and streams. But she’s never worn anything different, anything besides her blue cloak and tunic. She had never even wondered what it would be like to wear anything different until very recently.

“Can I help you?” The shopkeeper asks, emerging from the back of the store. She’s holding a bolt of fabric dyed a rich green.

Sypha opens her mouth, and the words just looking are about to spill out, but she can’t quite do it. This would be an indulgence, a silly, ridiculous indulgence. Her money is better spent on food or books and other supplies.

But it would be nice to have one other thing to wear. There are places in Wallachia where Speakers cannot travel safely, and her current garb marks her as a Speaker to anyone who lays eyes on her. It wouldn’t just be nice to have another thing to wear, in that case, it would be a smart thing to do.

“These are lovely,” Sypha finally manages, patting one of the dresses and feeling rather self-conscious. “I…I’m just looking.”

Maybe the shopkeeper had read something in her face, because she sets the bolt of green fabric down on another table and moves closer. “There are some others in the back like those,” she says. “They don’t have the embroidery, though, so they’re cheaper. Do you want me to bring them out for you to look over?”

Trevor or Alucard may have taken offense to her words, but Sypha smiles, making up her mind. “Yes, please. Thank you for your help.”

Sypha leaves the store half an hour later, one silver piece less in her coin purse. She smooths the fabric of her new dress out, running her hands over the skirt, trying to get used to how it feels. The fabric is plain but comfortable, as is the fit. She’ll be able to run and fight in this, if necessary. The sleeves are fitted to her elbow and then flare out, and the square neckline isn’t low, so that she won’t feel awkward or exposed. Most importantly, the fabric is as red as a ripe apple. As she moves through the crowds, clutching her woven shopping basket with her old Speaker clothes folded and nestled inside, she notices that she fits right in with the other young women heading to the festival.

She sees Trevor in front of the pumpkin stall, holding a woven basket piled high with supplies. He’s surveying a collection of misshapen, monstrous-looking gourds, clearly fascinated. Sypha sidles up next to him, setting her basket at her feet. “That green bulbous one over there is quite strange,” she says cheerfully. “Doesn’t it remind you of that vicar from Sebes?”

Trevor almost jumps, and actually double-takes upon seeing her. “Sypha? Is that you?”

“The one and only, yes.” Sypha smooths her hands over her skirt again, trying not to blush at how he’s staring at her, trying not to wonder what he thinks of the change. “I thought it would be nice to have a different outfit. Something more discreet, one that doesn’t scream enemy of God.”

“Good point.” Trevor glances down at the Belmont crest on his shirt. “Maybe I should join you next time.”

“You could get a matching tunic,” Sypha suggests. Now that she thinks of it, she’s never seen Trevor in anything but his typical outfit either, aside from a threadbare black tunic (more reminiscent of a potato sack with sleeves) that he sometimes wears to sleep in.

Trevor shudders. “I’d look like a tomato,” he says, and then glances at her out of the corner of his eye, looking somewhat panicked. “Not that you look like a tomato. You don’t look like a tomato at all. You look nice.”

Sypha sighs. “Thank you, Trevor.”

Trevor coughs and pats her on the shoulder. “You wanted to go see the festival?” he asks, before offering her his arm. “Let’s do this.”

They give the pumpkin vendor a few copper pieces to keep their baskets safe, stowed under the table and covered by the fall of the tablecloth, which he gladly accepts. She and Trevor follow the crowds of townspeople to the festival grounds, and Trevor shows her all that he had promised. There is bobbing for apples, frantic corn-husking races, surprisingly intense wheelbarrow races, archery and horseshoe and wrestling competitions, and even some axe and hammer throwing on the edges of the festival area. The two of them eagerly spectate a few wrestling and axe-throwing matches. Trevor enters into a wrestling match, an axe-throwing match, and a hammer-throwing match, and wins all three, earning three heavy bags of silver and gold pieces. To Sypha’s surprise, the mediator of the wrestling match gives Trevor a small wreath of sunflowers as well. He places it gently on her head, without a moment’s hesitation.

The dancing in the middle of the festival grounds catches her fancy after that, and Sypha leads her triumphant victor over to watch the dancers. “It’ll be a good break for you from flinging things around and straining yourself,” she says. “You can appreciate the finer things in life.”

“Ah, but I love flinging things around,” Trevor says wistfully. “I wish they had keg tossing here.”

Sypha leans against him, humming along to the music. It’s vibrant and energetic, all quick strings. People of all ages are dancing, from elderly couples to small children joining hands and skipping in circles, almost falling over themselves in laughter. There’s no formality to the dance; every pair and group seems to be following different steps, moving as the music inspires them. “Isn’t this lovely?” she asks happily. “Oh, look at that couple over there! That man just lifted his partner up and spun her around in the air.”

Trevor clears his throat, and when she looks over at him, he offers his hand to her. “Come on,” he says, somewhat apprehensively. “Let’s join them.”

Sypha stares at him. “Are you serious?”

He smiles at her, and the expression makes her melt, as it always does. “I said I owed you one, remember?”

Sypha beams, placing her hand in his. He pulls her out into the crowd and then stands somewhat awkwardly, placing one hand on her shoulder and one on her lower back, and glancing around them surreptitiously.

“Trevor?” she asks, peering up at him. “Are you all right? You look a little sick.”

“So, I don’t actually know how to dance,” he mutters, turning red. “It looked easier when we were standing on the sidelines.”

Sypha laughs, taking his hand and interlacing their fingers together. “That’s fine. I’ll lead us. As usual.”

“Just for the record, I resent that.”  

Trevor is a fast learner, though, and by their third dance, he takes the lead. His competitive instinct comes out, as well. He stares at the other couples around them with narrowed eyes, studying their moves with such intensity that a few young men scowl at him and their dance partners edge away.

“You’re scaring the good people of Nis,” Sypha comments, as he whirls her around. “Be careful. They might ban you from the pub.”

“Unlikely. They’re just intimidated by our skill.” He startles her, placing both hands on her waist and picking her up off the ground with seemingly no effort; the same move that had so impressed her earlier.

“Trevor! That was amazing.”

He grins at her, clearly satisfied by the praise. Now that she thinks about it, it’s actually not that surprising. He excels at all things athletic, so why should dancing be the exception? “You always underestimate me, Sypha. Maybe one day…” he pauses, looking thoughtful. “You will estimate me?”

Sypha giggles. “Stick to the dancing, my dear.”

The endearment had slipped out completely without her realizing it, and she blinks, mortified. Thankfully, Trevor hadn’t seemed to notice at all; he’s too wrapped up in leading them through a series of complicated steps.

They dance for a long time, until they’re both breathless and Sypha’s feet hurt a little. At a brief break in the music, she releases his hand, ignoring the small pang of regret she feels. “I’m starving,” she says. “Shall we go to your pub?”

Trevor’s eyes gleam in anticipation as they leave the dancing grounds. “Of course. My pub...I like the sound of that. Maybe after we retire from the business of vanquishing evil, we can open a pub.”

“We? I want nothing to do with this. You can open a pub with Alucard, and I will be the owner of a reputable school of magic.” Sypha looks up at him. “Thank you for dancing with me.”

“Anytime.” Trevor scratches his chin contemplatively. “It was fun, actually. Maybe we should find a dance competition to enter at the next festival we hear of.”

They bicker lightly about whether or not everything has to be a competition until they reach the pub. It’s small and dimly lit, and so crowded and loud that Sypha immediately feels overwhelmed. Trevor is completely unfazed, though, and finds them a spot at the bar. The bench is packed so tightly that she doesn’t think there will be space for them, but Trevor sits down at the end anyway, shoving the man next to him a bit and returning his glare with one of his own.

“I’m sure we can find a table instead,” Sypha says, looking around apprehensively.

Trevor shakes his head. “Service will be faster up here. It’s fine, look.”

He clears a little bit more space, earning another dirty look from the man on the other side of him, and gestures for her to sit down. It’s so close that she’s practically on his lap, and Sypha tries not to feel flustered, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“One flight of cider and one roast chicken with apples and sweet potatoes,” Trevor tells the harried-looking server when he comes around to them, juggling three plates of food.

Sypha smiles at him. “I’ll have a cheese and apple pie, please, and one mug of water, and one glass of mulled wine.”

Their drinks and food come out surprisingly fast. The chicken and the pie both look leagues better than any food that they normally find at inns and taverns, and Trevor practically salivates at the sight of the five tall glasses before him. All of them are filled with cider ranging from golden to pink in color. “Well, they are pretty,” Sypha observes, digging her spoon into her pie.

“They’re beautiful,” Trevor says, looking rather emotional. “Here, try some of each before I start them.”

“Oh, I don’t--”

“I can’t not share with you. Start with that one on the far right, it’s a bit milder, and work your way left.”

It is much more enjoyable than beer, thanks to the apple flavor, though it’s still strong for her taste. Her throat is burning and her eyes watering by the last sip. Trevor is watching her, clearly anxious for her reaction, and Sypha points to the two on the right. “Those are the best. I could drink one of those. Slowly.”

“Ah, from the Crimson Crisp and the Winesap,” Trevor observes, looking delighted. “Do you want me to get one for you? The server’s just down the bar.”

“No, thank you. All I want is more of this incredible pie. Here, have a piece. The crust is fantastic.”

“If you think that’s good, wait until you have the chicken. I’ll give you a leg now, hold on.”

They end up eating half of each other’s meals, working their way through the entire pie and the chicken, chatting leisurely, Trevor giving her a sip of his cider every now and then. The pub is nice and warm, and after a while, the noise and crowd doesn’t bother her much anymore. Sypha has a bit of pie and listens to Trevor’s rebuttal to her argument about why The Townley Plays are actually a good piece of roadside theater after all.

They are sitting in an unfamiliar town she has never been in before, and one that they will leave by dawn the next morning. And yet she feels so comfortable, totally at ease and at home, sitting here with Trevor at her side.

She had always understood why people sought out romantic relationships; for companionship and partnership. But she had never felt the need. She was happy and complete on her own, fulfilled in her work as a Speaker and her studies of magic. And she still is. It’s just that Trevor being around, being able to share every meal and every observation about the world and every challenge and triumph with her best friend, is even better. It fulfills her and makes her happy in a very different way.

There are times when she feels like she could burst with frustration over how badly she wants to kiss Trevor, to hold his hand, to do other things besides kiss him and hold his hand. But most times, like this, she is perfectly content. Just being with him is enough.

“Sypha?” Trevor asks, waving a chicken bone in front of her to get her attention. “Are you even listening? I said that even a ten-year-old could see the plot twist in the main mystery coming a mile away, and you’re just going to let that slip?”

“That is such a ludicrous assertion that I just ignored it.” Sypha brandishes her spoon at him in return for the chicken bone maneuver. “You are the only person I have ever talked to, of any age, who believes this. But what is more offensive is your belief that Gyb is a funny character. Gyb is the worst and here is why…”

They argue until Trevor has drained his last glass of cider, and Sypha has to convince him that no, another flight of five large glasses tonight is probably not a good idea. She asks the pub owner to fill two large wineskins for the road instead. He acquiesces, and Trevor is so overcome with gratitude he looks like he’s close to weeping, and tells her that she is the most perfect person in the world.

He’s a bit unsteady on his feet, and immediately puts an arm around her shoulder for support as they make their way out of the pub. It’s late enough that the crowds outside have subsided. When they reach the market, they find that the pumpkin vendor has abandoned his stall, but considerately left the tablecloth on the table, concealing their baskets from view. Trevor picks up his basket and wanders off while Sypha retrieves hers.

He comes back with a large red apple in his hand, clearly proud of the acquisition. Sypha eyes him suspiciously. “Where did you get that?”

“Someone left it on a table, I guess. Perfectly legal.” Trevor shrugs and offers it to her. “We’re at the autumn harvest festival, and we haven’t had any apples.”

“A travesty.” Sypha takes the apple. It fits perfectly into the palm of her hand, triggering a memory. “Remember when we accidentally trespassed onto that apple orchard?”

Trevor grins, slinging his arm around her shoulder again, and she almost staggers under the weight. He isn’t light, that’s for sure. “Oh, I remember.”

She had been stuffed by dinner, but she can’t resist the temptation, taking a bite of the apple. “It’s a good one,” she says. “Sweet and tart at the same time. Here.”

Sypha passes him the apple. She had expected that he would bite off the other side, but instead he bites just where she had. A kiss by proxy, she can’t help thinking, and she tries not to blush.

“Perfect,” Trevor says, his mouth full.

“Yes,” Sypha agrees. “Just like tonight.”

She expects a typical smart remark from him, something like you’re welcome or I was the one who insisted we come here, but Trevor just smiles, passing the apple back to her. “Just like tonight.”

Sypha is mid-bite of the apple when he speaks, sounding rather smug. “Of course, I deserve full credit for insisting that we come here. Maybe next time when I suggest we go somewhere, you’ll be more trusting.”

Sypha elbows him in the ribs.

-

to be continued

-

Thank you so much to everybody who left comments on the previous chapter. :) I love reading your thoughts!

[obdurare-archive-blog]

you knew this was going to happen. ship meme. lizzie and hector. ♡¯\_(ツ)_/¯

General:

Rate the Ship -  Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs | They will end me.How long will they last? -  They’re compatible enough to be long term as long as a certain someone doesn’t fuck it up Hector.How quickly did/will they fall in love? -  Since this is the opposite from Hector’s end:  He just turned around and got smacked in the face with it one day.  Oh, there was a lead up but he soldiered on, sure it wasn’t what he thought it was until no, it really is the thing he thought it wasn’t.How was their first kiss? -  Impulsive, because he knew it was a thing that shouldn’t happen.  So awkward because of that.  But here they are.

Wedding:

Who proposed? - Hector.  After several not so subtle hints.  Probably just dropped it into casual conversation, too, like, “Hey, we’re out of coffee, and by the way, I was thinking, and if you’re serious about the whole getting married thing, let’s go ahead and do it.”  Not the most flowery romantic thing, really, but genuine.Who is the best man/men? - Jack, who is probably the most smug bastard on the fact of the planet.  With lots of, “Well, it was nice knowing you, mate”s and “Good luck on that boring domesticity”s.  Jack, it should be noted, has a black eye at the wedding.Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - Anamaria.Who did the most planning? -  Elizabeth.  Hector’s not gonna touch any of it, lbr here.  He knows better.  Because he knows she’s playing that this or that game on purpose and he’s not going to take the bait.  The entire thing is really for her, so if she wants eggshell over white or lace over embroidery, he’s not going to pick either one, because whatever he picks will be wrong.Who stressed the most? -  Honestly, on the one hand, Elizabeth.  On the other, Hector, because he definitely has a moment of no really, what the fuck are you doing considering their lifestyles, his age, etc.  He gets over it, though.How fancy was the ceremony? - Small.  Very small.  Think the most private wedding you’ve been to and make it smaller.  Only the most trusted people in their little circle and there aren’t very many of those at all.Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? -  Just about everyone they know?  Because lbr they know some very Not Good People.  Again, super small wedding (and also less people to see Hector make an ass of himself, lbr here).  Hector is, at heart, a paranoid bastard and while, hey, he knows he lucked out in every department because pretty he’s never been, he’s also not exactly eager to make her a target, or himself a target against her.

Sex:

Who is on top? - Usually Hector but lbr.  Even if it’s Lizzie he’ll still try to be more dominate.  He gonna do as he do.Who is the one to instigate things? -  Even split now, Hector at the first.  Like, look, friendo, have you seen Elizabeth?  There’s nothing wrong with his eyesight or anything else, thanks.How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right nowHow kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s headHow long do they normally last? -  Like we’re not talking marathons here, friend, because that’s completely unrealistic but he’s got a little staying power, jfc, give a man some credit.Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - Like, look, okay, he tries.  But he’s an assassin, Jim, not a miracle worker.  I’d say it pretty much probably evens out.How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.Children:

How many children will they have naturally? -  On purpose?  None.  I feel like…A modern Hector at that point?  Probably snipped.How many children will they adopt? - 0.Who gets stuck with the most diapers? -  Hector.  Because any kids they have will 100% be an accident (because really, he doesn’t at all want any and so they’d also be Against All Odds).  But he would, hypothetically, and after an awkward stage, take to being a parent well (without his canon background in the way). Who is the stricter parent? -  Elizabeth.Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - E L I Z A B E T HWho remembers to pack the lunch(es)? -  Definitely Elizabeth.Who is the more loved parent? -  I will debate this and say it’s an even split if anything. Especially when said hypothetical kid was little.Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings?  Elizabeth.  Hector’s not allowed there anymore.  Marcy didn’t appreciate his blunt commentary.Who cried the most at graduation? - Elizabeth.  Hector doesn’t do that crying thing.Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? -  Hector.  Because as scary as he is, Elizabeth’s scarier.Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - Neither one of them, to be honest.  They’re just not really very good at it.  But if an Attempt Is Made, nine times out of ten it’s Elizabeth that makes it.Who is the most picky in their food choice? -  Hector only because he mostly refuses to change his dietary habits at all.  He’s such a baby about it he had to be plied with gummy multivitamins.Who does the grocery shopping? -  “””Grocery shopping.”””  Hector will only do it if forced or dragged along.How often do they bake desserts? -  Hector?  Not at all.  His idea of baking desserts is…Okay, so.  He’s so terrible at it?  Those pizzas you bake that come with the cookies, too?  He’ll just shove those back in the freezer, because he cannot bake at all.Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? -  Elizabeth can keep shoving rabbit food at him all she wants, he’s gonna do as he do.  He’ll do it in front of her to prove a point, because he’s not a cow and he doesn’t want to eat grass.Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? -  Hector.  Like, look, okay, he can be a real asshole, and he has trouble trusting and all of that happy shit.  But at the end of the day he’s a giant sap who just can’t help himself.Who is more likely to suggest going out? -  It’s true.  Hector is very lazy and will suggest this thing over attempting to cook.  Especially between the pair of them they can make things that are edible but not…Very…Good.Who is more likely to burn the house down accidentally while cooking? -  Elizabeth.  Hector is currently 547 days kitchen accident free.Chores:

Who cleans the room? - Probably Elizabeth (because lbr canon Hector’s not what you’d call neat or organized either).  Hector’s the type to drop wet towels in the bathroom floor when he’s done with them (he’s, sadly, also the type to just walk through naked after the fact and not really care - he’s at home, don’t look if you have a problem with it).Who is really against chores? -  Hector.Who cleans up after the pets? -  Hector, because that’s the one thing he won’t bitch too hard about.Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? -  Hector.  Can’t find the dust pan?  Fuck it, no one will know.Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? -  Neither?  Like, if anyone does actually come over it’s probably like Jack, and pfft.  Yeah, it’s just Jack.Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? -  Elizabeth.  And it’s probably Hector’s dollar, too.  That change in the cushions she finds, too?  Yeah, probably all his.Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? -   Elizabeth.  He has no idea what she’s really doing in there but when she finally emerges it’s like a flower shop threw up and there’s glitter everywhere.Who takes the dog out for a walk? -  Cats.  (Hector would totally want a dog, though.)How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? -  Hardly???  Ever???  Decorations are invitations to be bothered, in Hector’s opinion.  What are their goals for the relationship? -  His?  To not murder Elizabeth.  To not get caught murdering someone for Elizabeth.  And to not get murdered.  In that order.Who is most likely to sleep till noon? -  Both?  Probably?  Hector was once upon a time an early riser but then he met his lazy sod of a girl and now he sleeps in entirely too late thanks to her and simply the way The Job works.Who plays the most pranks? -  Hector.  More verbal ones than anything, but it’s how he’s going to get murdered by Elizabeth.

[erickanobble]

Serving the community through Mission of Mercy

Dozens of dental students served at the sixth annual Mission of Mercy in Reading, Pennsylvania (MOM-n-PA). The Santander Arena, normally full of screaming sports fans or concert goers, was transformed into a free dental clinic for those in need. There were 1,900 patients seen May 18-19.

About 927 volunteers made this possible on that rainy weekend. Of the volunteers who served, many were dental students from Temple, Penn and other surrounding schools. Reading native Marko Yacoub, a fourth-year dental student at Temple, says it meant so much to him to give back to his hometown. The District 3 outreach and service consultant believes he has something that “can change a person’s quality of life.” Yacoub says, “My family was in need at one time, so I feel obligated to return the favor, just like strangers had done for us.”

I also was a volunteer in my own hometown, being born and raised in Reading. I served as an oral surgery assistant for the morning. By the time a patient had gotten to us in oral surgery, they already had their health history evaluated and radiographs taken. The oral surgeon simply had to make the final call for the treatment that day and then do the extraction. One mother came to have her molars extracted and to get her son’s teeth cleaned. We saw her at 10:30 a.m. She had stood in the rain since 4:30 a.m. to receive treatment.

The floor of the Santander Arena in Reading, Pennsylvania, transformed into a dental clinic.

Dr. Bernard Dishler is one of the founders of MOM-n-PA, along with chair, Dr. Gary Davis, and facility chair, Dr. Bruce Terry. Dr. Dishler says this year was a huge success and that the event has become even better organized and more efficient, as they continue learning new ways to improve.

This was Yacoub’s second year serving MOM-n-PA. For those of us seeing it for the first time, it was overwhelming and also fascinating — how you could turn over that many instruments and patients so quickly, while keeping such high spirits. Yacoub says, “It’s awesome that we all work together in the arena, and it moves so flawlessly because of everyone’s kind hearts on those days. We will never meet every single person, but when everyone fulfills their task, its smooth sailing ahead.”

Rima Modi, a third-year dental student at Temple, served as an oral surgery assistant as well. “The simple words I heard from patients after an extraction of an infected molar touched my heart: ‘You are a healer. You have magic. Thank you for taking me out of months of pain.’ I did everything without realizing what it would mean to people. Those words made me realize the difference dentists make in society. Those words will always be cherished.”

Anamaria Castillo is a fourth-year at Temple; she assisted in triage as a Spanish translator. This was her third year volunteering, and she says that she leaves changed every time. “[It’s amazing to see] such instantaneous results in such a small amount of time, which end up lasting a lifetime.” She still remembers the first time she volunteered with MOM-n-PA. The first patient was a former model who had been bulimic. They restored her anterior teeth, and she was so happy, she cried. Castillo still tears up when she tells the story.

Dr. Dishler gets to see moments like this every year. He says, “My pay is the appreciation of the patients.” On Saturday morning when he drove into the parking lot at 5:15 a.m., the attendant said to him, “I don’t know if people are thanking you, but I really appreciate what you are doing.” Dr. Dishler said he was tired, but those words came at the right time.

“People had been thanking us, but that appreciation when I was tired and had to get ready for another busy day put a little snap in my step and [prepared me] for another great day,” he says.

Through these types of experiences, we gain perspective as to why we chose this profession as well as the ability to evaluate the need of those in our own community. We learn just how big the impact our service is to patients. MOM-n-PA will be planting its feet in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, June 7-8, 2019. Let’s see what next year brings.

~Angela Walter, Temple ’20, Contributing Editor, Operation Smile VP, Chapter Membership Chair

from Dental http://www.asdablog.com/serving-the-community-through-mission-of-mercy/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[rickymanguson]

Serving the community through Mission of Mercy

Dozens of dental students served at the sixth annual Mission of Mercy in Reading, Pennsylvania (MOM-n-PA). The Santander Arena, normally full of screaming sports fans or concert goers, was transformed into a free dental clinic for those in need. There were 1,900 patients seen May 18-19.

About 927 volunteers made this possible on that rainy weekend. Of the volunteers who served, many were dental students from Temple, Penn and other surrounding schools. Reading native Marko Yacoub, a fourth-year dental student at Temple, says it meant so much to him to give back to his hometown. The District 3 outreach and service consultant believes he has something that “can change a person’s quality of life.” Yacoub says, “My family was in need at one time, so I feel obligated to return the favor, just like strangers had done for us.”

I also was a volunteer in my own hometown, being born and raised in Reading. I served as an oral surgery assistant for the morning. By the time a patient had gotten to us in oral surgery, they already had their health history evaluated and radiographs taken. The oral surgeon simply had to make the final call for the treatment that day and then do the extraction. One mother came to have her molars extracted and to get her son’s teeth cleaned. We saw her at 10:30 a.m. She had stood in the rain since 4:30 a.m. to receive treatment.

The floor of the Santander Arena in Reading, Pennsylvania, transformed into a dental clinic.

Dr. Bernard Dishler is one of the founders of MOM-n-PA, along with chair, Dr. Gary Davis, and facility chair, Dr. Bruce Terry. Dr. Dishler says this year was a huge success and that the event has become even better organized and more efficient, as they continue learning new ways to improve.

This was Yacoub’s second year serving MOM-n-PA. For those of us seeing it for the first time, it was overwhelming and also fascinating — how you could turn over that many instruments and patients so quickly, while keeping such high spirits. Yacoub says, “It’s awesome that we all work together in the arena, and it moves so flawlessly because of everyone’s kind hearts on those days. We will never meet every single person, but when everyone fulfills their task, its smooth sailing ahead.”

Rima Modi, a third-year dental student at Temple, served as an oral surgery assistant as well. “The simple words I heard from patients after an extraction of an infected molar touched my heart: ‘You are a healer. You have magic. Thank you for taking me out of months of pain.’ I did everything without realizing what it would mean to people. Those words made me realize the difference dentists make in society. Those words will always be cherished.”

Anamaria Castillo is a fourth-year at Temple; she assisted in triage as a Spanish translator. This was her third year volunteering, and she says that she leaves changed every time. “[It’s amazing to see] such instantaneous results in such a small amount of time, which end up lasting a lifetime.” She still remembers the first time she volunteered with MOM-n-PA. The first patient was a former model who had been bulimic. They restored her anterior teeth, and she was so happy, she cried. Castillo still tears up when she tells the story.

Dr. Dishler gets to see moments like this every year. He says, “My pay is the appreciation of the patients.” On Saturday morning when he drove into the parking lot at 5:15 a.m., the attendant said to him, “I don’t know if people are thanking you, but I really appreciate what you are doing.” Dr. Dishler said he was tired, but those words came at the right time.

“People had been thanking us, but that appreciation when I was tired and had to get ready for another busy day put a little snap in my step and [prepared me] for another great day,” he says.

Through these types of experiences, we gain perspective as to why we chose this profession as well as the ability to evaluate the need of those in our own community. We learn just how big the impact our service is to patients. MOM-n-PA will be planting its feet in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, June 7-8, 2019. Let’s see what next year brings.

~Angela Walter, Temple ’20, Contributing Editor, Operation Smile VP, Chapter Membership Chair

from Dental Tips http://www.asdablog.com/serving-the-community-through-mission-of-mercy/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[juanfinleya1]

Serving the community through Mission of Mercy

Dozens of dental students served at the sixth annual Mission of Mercy in Reading, Pennsylvania (MOM-n-PA). The Santander Arena, normally full of screaming sports fans or concert goers, was transformed into a free dental clinic for those in need. There were 1,900 patients seen May 18-19.

About 927 volunteers made this possible on that rainy weekend. Of the volunteers who served, many were dental students from Temple, Penn and other surrounding schools. Reading native Marko Yacoub, a fourth-year dental student at Temple, says it meant so much to him to give back to his hometown. The District 3 outreach and service consultant believes he has something that “can change a person’s quality of life.” Yacoub says, “My family was in need at one time, so I feel obligated to return the favor, just like strangers had done for us.”

I also was a volunteer in my own hometown, being born and raised in Reading. I served as an oral surgery assistant for the morning. By the time a patient had gotten to us in oral surgery, they already had their health history evaluated and radiographs taken. The oral surgeon simply had to make the final call for the treatment that day and then do the extraction. One mother came to have her molars extracted and to get her son’s teeth cleaned. We saw her at 10:30 a.m. She had stood in the rain since 4:30 a.m. to receive treatment.

The floor of the Santander Arena in Reading, Pennsylvania, transformed into a dental clinic.

Dr. Bernard Dishler is one of the founders of MOM-n-PA, along with chair, Dr. Gary Davis, and facility chair, Dr. Bruce Terry. Dr. Dishler says this year was a huge success and that the event has become even better organized and more efficient, as they continue learning new ways to improve.

This was Yacoub’s second year serving MOM-n-PA. For those of us seeing it for the first time, it was overwhelming and also fascinating — how you could turn over that many instruments and patients so quickly, while keeping such high spirits. Yacoub says, “It’s awesome that we all work together in the arena, and it moves so flawlessly because of everyone’s kind hearts on those days. We will never meet every single person, but when everyone fulfills their task, its smooth sailing ahead.”

Rima Modi, a third-year dental student at Temple, served as an oral surgery assistant as well. “The simple words I heard from patients after an extraction of an infected molar touched my heart: ‘You are a healer. You have magic. Thank you for taking me out of months of pain.’ I did everything without realizing what it would mean to people. Those words made me realize the difference dentists make in society. Those words will always be cherished.”

Anamaria Castillo is a fourth-year at Temple; she assisted in triage as a Spanish translator. This was her third year volunteering, and she says that she leaves changed every time. “[It’s amazing to see] such instantaneous results in such a small amount of time, which end up lasting a lifetime.” She still remembers the first time she volunteered with MOM-n-PA. The first patient was a former model who had been bulimic. They restored her anterior teeth, and she was so happy, she cried. Castillo still tears up when she tells the story.

Dr. Dishler gets to see moments like this every year. He says, “My pay is the appreciation of the patients.” On Saturday morning when he drove into the parking lot at 5:15 a.m., the attendant said to him, “I don’t know if people are thanking you, but I really appreciate what you are doing.” Dr. Dishler said he was tired, but those words came at the right time.

“People had been thanking us, but that appreciation when I was tired and had to get ready for another busy day put a little snap in my step and [prepared me] for another great day,” he says.

Through these types of experiences, we gain perspective as to why we chose this profession as well as the ability to evaluate the need of those in our own community. We learn just how big the impact our service is to patients. MOM-n-PA will be planting its feet in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, June 7-8, 2019. Let’s see what next year brings.

~Angela Walter, Temple ’20, Contributing Editor, Operation Smile VP, Chapter Membership Chair

[andranikolayi]

Phil Minton - The Untamed Voice

Phil Minton is no regular artist - the revered improviser has a spectacular career spanning over four decades, whose collaborations include Audrey Chen, Tom Cora, Radu Malfatti and Mike Westbrook and a vocal improv quintet, Five Men Who Sing, with Jaap Blonk, Paul Dutton, Koichi Makigami and David Moss.

While deeply rooted in his solo practice, Feral Choir is a unique approach to improv, stripping down the concept to the very bare elements of the human voice, beyond language and music.

Dubbed as “an improvisation workshop for everyone who ever wanted to sing but was afraid to”, Feral Choir invites amateurs, professionals and shower singers to step out and rediscover their voices.

During the 20 years of doing the workshop, Phil had groups ranging from 10 to 60 people, including actors, improvisers, fans, children and even mentally challenged participants. Its nature transcends language and cultural barriers, offering a raw, primal communication system.

Participating in the workshop is a highly entertaining, often transformative experience. Under Phil’s direction, people blend humming, whistling, shushing and other bodily noises into a wild, cacophonous symphony.

In anticipation of the Feral Choir workshop at ODD, Phil was kind enough to answer a few questions about the project.

Andra Chitimus: I know you get asked this a lot, but I wanted to know how did the Feral Choir idea originate, especially in relation to your solo work. It is quite brilliant how you managed to strip down vocal improv to the essence and create this incredibly inclusive performance.

Phil Minton : I was asked to do a solo in Sweden, but as is often the case, its conveniently helpful with funding to combine performances with ‘reach out" projects that involve a community. So I had no initial big idea for the feral choir, the choir helped fund my solo or group gigs and i was very reluctant at first to accept offers. I had no teaching experience and i found It difficult to tell people what to do. This all changed one day when a partner of one of the choir singers told me ‘I have never seen her so happy’.

AC : You’ve been doing the choir for almost 20 years now; what have you learned from the experience over the years? 

PM : That I love the sound of people breathing, bubbling, whooping, laughing and singing many more wonderful sounds together. I’ve heard some the best music that I have ever heard on many of the feral choir concerts. 

AC: Do you believe participants in the last few years are more open to the experience? 

PM: Yes, but that does not mean the worlds a better place.

AC: When we met in Paris you told us this story of the muslim women who came to the workshop as part of a cultural integration program and didnt really know what to expect. I remembered you said you were having a hard time getting through to them, but once you showed them the rocking the baby/lullaby sign they immediately understood and opened up. Do you believe the workshop is a way to transcend language barriers?

PM: Most humans love singing. Fuck the words.

AC: What is your most memorable/favorite moment from the workshop?

PM: Being told after a performance that someone had called the police from outside the venue, they thought there was a Riot going on inside. The police had arrived but took no action because they could not 'understand’ what was  happening. 

AC: You’ve had countless collaborations over the years, recently with young improvisers. Is there anyone in particular you would like to work with and haven’t had the chance yet?

PM:The trumpet player Peter Evans.

AC: This will be your first time in Bucharest; its musical heritage ranges from the work of spectralist composers like Iancu Dumitrescu/Anamaria Avram to gipsy manele music and wild electronic explorations. Do you think this background will influence your approach to the workshop?

PM: I’ve done workshops all over the world, in prisons, with homeless people, with composers and drunks, with autistic and Down syndrome singers, scientists, opera singers, rappers and plumbers and with anyone who’s wanted to be part of it. So I try not to adjust initially to the multitude of cultural backgrounds that any group could have. But as the workshop progresses I hopefully integrate all these in performance. Like the man who told me he did not understand what to do when asked to join some free vocal improvising. He loved singing, but could only sing parts of Ukrainian pop songs that he could remember, all cool, he was wonderful.

AC: In Paris you used to punctuate the rehearsal breaks with yodeling; Romanians are also mountain people - do you plan to teach us to yodel?

PM: I use yodelling as a vocal exercise to relax my voice. I can give some tips and point in the right direction to those who want to yodel but find it difficult. Looking forward to hearing some Romanian mountain yodel.

AC: And, lastly, since I have participated in the choir, I know how much fun it can be but Romanians can be quite shy when it comes to participatory practices. What would you tell someone who is still on the fence about joining?

PM; Many people who come to the workshops do not make a sound for maybe an hour, but I know they are loving it and they do join in eventually.  One in a thousand who come leave after the first 10 mins??… I just thought, maybe they are all cops or soldiers and don’t understand.

AC: Thank you Phil!

The workshop takes place July 10th-12th, with rehearsals Monday and Tuesday, followed by a performance on Wednesday. Please sign up at info@oddweb.org