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greypetrel · 3 months

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Distance.

Ages ago, @salsedine sent me not one but 2 prompts from this Florence prompt list. You can find the first one here for some mutual F!Mahariel/Morrigan pining, but the second one...

Big God is one of those songs I really like and always need to listen to… twice or thrice in a row. I wanted to do it good and catch the feeling and I felt like I always was going out of theme. I wrote this prompt. And re-wrote it. And re-wrote it again. Settled on an idea. Wrote it twice. Re-read it and be angry at it.

I was considering changing the character (in my mind it's an Aisling song, but MH), or making it crack, but then I read Florence talking about it, describing this song as a “obviously, an unfillable hole in the soul, but mainly about someone not replying to my text"...

… And I realize I already wrote it in one of my ten thousand iteration.

So here you go it’s angsty. Post Trespasser. AND it’s epistolary, because I wanted to try it. Maybe I’ll post the bigger version on AO3, it’s Aisling’s pov and it got discarded because it was getting LONG even for my standards. That needs an ending and some more editing, tho, so here you go in the meanwhile.

37. The best of the best and the worst of the worst CW: Mental illness, PTSD, Depression

Sometimes I think it's getting better And then it gets much worse Is it just part of the process? Jesus Christ, it hurts Big God – Florence + The Machine

Skyhold, August 27, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling,

Just writing to check in that you got there all right. Stupid of me, since you left but… What, few hours ago?

I hope you can forgive me for organizing all this. I swear it’s not to send you away, it’s not because I don’t want you, but I don’t think staying here was doing you any good. Three days in a bed are too many, my love, I hope you can forgive me for worrying.

I am already missing you, before you can think of anything else. If you need, please know that I’m but a letter away. Ask, and I’ll come running.

All my love, Cullen

---

Skyhold August 29, 9:44 Dragon

Hello, love.

I’m told you arrived all right and you settled in Stone-Bear Hold, and I wanted to give you a welcome myself.

Don’t take these as any pressure to reply. Take your time, I am here waiting until you’re ready.

Pet Storvacker for me as well, would you?

All my love, Cullen

---

Skyhold, August 31, 9:44 Dragon

My love,

Nothing much happened, don’t worry. It’s all bureaucracy and I’m quite bored.

I must say that you were right, your room is indeed dauntingly big - I’m rolling my eyes at your smug grin, right now. I left all the pieces of my armour on the floor, one beside the other, to fill it a little and to recreate some mess. You can laugh. Since you’re gone it’s all too tidy, and I miss you.

All my love, Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 3, 9:44 Dragon

My love,

I missed yesterday, sorry about that.

I’m fine, it was just a busy day. Before you ask: yes, I’m eating regularly and I’m fine.

I think Dennet is a little bored, without you and Little Brother around. I caught him snorting grumpily at a horse that obeyed to him right away, the other day. I hope Little Brother is well, I am sure I don’t have to tell you to give him an apple from me.

Or should I? I got told you didn’t go to the stables onc Nevermind that, you surely know better.

Love, Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 5, 9:44 Dragon

Is it already a week since I last saw your face? It seems a lot more.

I slept in my old loft tonight, it’s less big and daunty and I had a lot of work. It feels void anyway, without you, and whatever company there is at lunch can’t hold a candle to you, even if I appreciate it. See? I’m also eating with other people, like you’d want. It’s not really the same without you, but I’m holding on. And struggling to make these letters longer, as you’d want too.

Without you making shenanigans with Dorian and Sera, it’s all too quiet, and there’s really little to report.

Beside that I miss you.

All my love, Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 7, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling,

I hate to speak about work, particularly right now. But this bears importance to mention:

If you’re approached by Sapphira, please turn her away. She came up with a plan and… We turned her down already, Cassandra is dealing with it. Do not worry at all, but if she comes to you, please be wary, I doubt she is your friend. I doubt she was ever our friend.

I hate to write this letter with such things. My plan was for you to forget about work for a while and figure things out, and look at me. You really married the wrong person not to talk about work, I fear.

I am sorry, love. I hope you’re doing better and are more rested. I hope you can get out of bed in the morning with no problems.

If you are and you do, then missing you so much is fine.

I love you, Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 8, 9:44 Dragon

Love,

I’m making up for yesterday’s letter with a better one.

I managed to convince Cabot to give me the recipe of his scones, and to let me try it with his supervision.

I did some turns in the kitchen back when I was training, and well. I’m no baker in any way, but they didn’t turn out so bad for a first trial. I think you’d like them. And it was pleasant to do. By the time I’ll see you again I hope I’ll be better.

Maybe after I’ll learn these I’ll ask the cook to teach me to make custard, what about it?

I hope you are eating enough.

I do miss you, a lot. Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 11, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling.

I understand you aren’t well. I understand you need time and space, all too well.

This is in no way meant as a criticism or to withdraw anything I ever professed for you. I still love you, I still want you, I have no intention of leaving you, ever if you’ll let me stay.

It’s just been a difficult night and I fear that-

I don’t know what to think of your lack of answer and it’s terror-

I’d need for you to write back, just to

Please-

Never mind that.

I wish you answered to me. Just once. Tell me you’re fine, tell me anything, really.

Please.

I shouldn’t send this.

I do love you, I do, and I wished you were fine and you were here.

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 12, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling,

Never mind the letter from yesterday.

I’m sorry I sent it, I shouldn’t dump that on you right now.

The love still stands. I’m better now. Could use a full night sleep, but this bed is just so damn big. I complained to Josephine and she laughed because apparently you told her the same thing.

She told me to say hi, maybe you’ll read this before her letters? Well. We all miss you.

Love, C.

---

Stone-Bear Hold, Kingsway 13, 9:44 Dragon

Cullen,

I am so sorry- Please, if you- If you can bear to forgive-

I’m sorry, I really am that you’re not well and facing it alone. Before you can tell me so: no, I don’t mind listening. Please, tell me more. I hope you are really better, and it’s not something you wrote to make me feel better. Don’t lie just to spare my feelings, please, I’m better knowing.

I know you’re strong and you’ll make it through, you did so many times before and you’ll do it one more time, I trust you. Just, take it easy, please. You made the right choice and it’s good to pursue this path, even if it’s difficult and it hurts and thirsty.

You can do it. You already did it. More than once. I have not many things to believe into, right now, but I do believe in you.

I am fine.

Since when you started seeing that as a lie? I do wonder if it was exactly when you started complaining about it, or if you realised sooner. Comes to mind I never asked you.

I am surviving, I can’t say anything more than this, I am afraid.

It’s… I am so sorry. I have forced myself to read your letters just today, in truth.

Physically I am fine. I am not in pain, the wound closed well and the Healer is happy with it, says that beside the scars I have nothing to fear anymore. My balance is still off, but I trip and bump less and less. Nonetheless…

I am given things to do. I help the Augur and Sigrid Gulsdotten in their activities, and it’s good and honest work. The morning is for people, helping them out, preparing rites, picking herbs when we finish them. The afternoons the children come for lessons, and I’m more another student than a help, but the Augur doesn’t seem to mind much, and I quite like listening to the lore. I can’t but wonder if the Lady of the Sky was also a not going there.

After that is when time stops. I don’t know what to do, honestly. I lived so much out of roles and paths pre-traced for me that now that I’m out of them all I find myself in the void. Do I like the things I do because I had to, because of habit, or because I sincerely do? When I am left with nothing left to do, I don’t know anymore. I don’t know what I like and I don’t know who I am.

That’s why I haven’t replied before. It’s like… I think back of the person I was, and it doesn’t feel like I’m her anymore. I am terrorized at the idea that I’ll open those letters and they’ll all be addressed to a person that’s not me anymore. I can’t take it, right now. Thank you for having written, and thank you for not having written to her.

I miss you so much.

I miss you most at lunches: no one here can hold a candle against you, too. I miss our conversations and your friendship.

I miss you in the afternoons, because all that comes to mind is that I could curl in the corner of the couch in your office. Complain because it’s always full of boxes of reports and there’s no space. And just watch you work.

I miss you at nights the most. Sigrid is a good hugger, but she’s not you, she hasn’t your smell and she cuts the hugs always short.

Tonight I missed you so much that… Ida Sigridsdotten and Annike Majasdotten married, today. I put up a dress and smiled and helped the rites as I was asked to. But when it was over, and people started walking to the Hall for the banquet I missed you so much, I couldn’t ignore the memories. It was so unbearable that I fell back and decided to open one of your letters. Just one, I thought, I need to know who you were talking to.

It was so brief -not that I expected anything else, I know you. So I opened another. And another.

I couldn’t avoid answering your last letter, I hope you don’t mind if this is so long. It compensates for all those days of silence, I hope.

I really hope it does.

Is it ok for me to conclude this with expressing love? I am not sure who I am anymore, I don’t know what I like, but I do know that I love you. Reading your letters was a breath of fresh air. Ironical no? I get so much of it, these days.

Write to me again, if you wish.

With all the love I can muster, from exactly where I don’t know but it’s there, Aisling.

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 14, 9:44 Dragon

Love.

Another calm day, full of bureaucracy.

I do hate dealing with money and calculating. You’d laugh at me and tell me it’s simple maths and do everything in five minutes.

Sometimes I still look up from my desk and expect you napping on the couch. I don’t think it did you so well, and I’m glad you’re out there doing better things, and I won’t lie: it made me feel observed. But now that you’re away, I do miss that too.

Maker, I miss your mess. Frida went through all your drawers, now they’re unbearably organized.

I do wonder: are you reading?

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 15, 9:44 Dragon

My love,

You would be happy in knowing I just made a fool of myself.

Your letter came, and I just took it and ran away without realizing, leaving apparently Josephine and a trio of Comtes who lent us money and were discussing of reparations standing in the Great Hall, mid speech.

If I don’t answer anymore, Josie came for my head.

Now, with order.

I am afraid you never were much of a liar, my love. I realised you weren’t fine as you told it the first time in Haven, you have always worn your heart on your sleeve. Honestly? I liked that in you from the start. I only hope this new you still has it, it was endearing and soothing. But if you don’t feel like that anymore, it’s fine anyway. But please, don’t lie to me. No need for it.

I wish you were here too, but I don’t think you’d like being here. For the rest, I’m fine. Really. It was just a bad night. I’m better now that I heard from you.

As for the rest, I can think of a couple of things you like: magic and animals. You love horses. Maker knows you worried me so and busied Josie enough to make you presentable again after the stables to like horses out of duty. What about it?

Answer, if you’d like. I understand if you don’t. I’ll keep the love with gladness.

All my love, Cullen

---

Stone-Bear Hold, Kingsway 17, 9:44 Dragon

Cullen,

Please don’t let Josie reach you. Or if she did, hello Josie, can I have his cape back to remember him by?

Thank you, love Cull my love. It all brought a smile, and it was something I needed. That was a lovely long letter, please keep it up, I appreciated it so much.

I don’t want to see horses. My balance is still off when I’m walking and I would hurt myself on a horse, for real. And I don’t think I could And I would hate to see you smug with a “I told you so”.

But yeah, I guess so. I pet Storvacker whenever she comes around, and it’s nice, she’s very beautiful and such a good creature. I think she remembers I saved her, but maybe it’s just wishful thinking. How’s Bran? Is he keeping you good company, did he learn to duck and not fetch?

The children hijacked the lesson, today, when the topic fell on Hakkon Wintersbreath. We went overtime because the kept asking me about the dragons I slayed, if it was true. Someone out there had spread the rumour I dealt with the three in the Emprise all at once? I had to struggle to convince them it didn’t happen like that, and they were even more disappointed than when I told them that slaying dragons is just a sad thing to do and I hated doing it.

Oh, there’s one thing I hate. Does it count?

I do love you, and I miss you a little less now that I’m writing back. Thank you for being so patient with me. I do love you, a lot. You’re one thing I really like.

Are you feeling better? For real.

Say that I’m sorry hello to the others from me.

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 19, 9:44 Dragon

My love,

It does count, and I think it goes into the liking animals box. Anything else? I remember you were quite fond of swimming, if I recall correctly our first visit to Honnleath and our last one in Wycome. What about it? If you can catch a sunny day, the water should still be warm enough to bathe.

And sweets. Do they have something sweet to eat? Should I ship down there your candy stash?

Bran is fine, and is keeping me good company, thanks. He misses you too, but I’ve been fairly successful in teaching him not to sleep where you should be on the bed. Now he sleeps at my feet and I have to curl up. He still fetches, but we’re working on that too.

I am feeling better, I swear. For real, I took it easier in the last days and delegated some.

I firmly believe you wouldn’t fall if you tried to ride. I saw you. Maybe don’t start with a gallop, ease yourself in? I am sorry if I insist, but please, don’t let fear stop you. You love riding and you love that horse. And I’m sure he misses you too. And I’m not saying that to pressure you, but because you always light up when you talk about horses and about Little Brother, and I’m sure he misses you too. But it’s ok, ignore this paragraph if it bothers you, you surely know best what’s good for you.

Everyone says hello. There are various recommendations of hugs, and get well soon and missing you and a choir of “Horns up” from the Chargers and Dorian.

I second the missing, and the horns up too.

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 25, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling,

I am sorry if I told you something wrong.

Please, ignore the last letter.

Little Brother is well taken care of, safe as can be, and I recommend to give him extra apples and extra cuddles. Do not worry about him, love, and please forgive me if I insisted.

If I see another Comte pretending we borrowed money from him without papers to demonstrate it I swear I’m throwing them down the battlements. Bran growling at him had been a nice addition to the group. Josie too gave him a biscuit for his good job.

I happily announce you that I have a recipe for custard and a successful attempt to my record. It was good, I’m waiting for the first lemons to try it properly and try to make it as you like it.

I do miss you, love, and I worry. Forgive me if I said the wrong thing.

I do love you even if you’ll never ride again. Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 28, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling.

You know what?

Fuck the Comtes.

Josie and Cassandra can hold their own for a while.

Wait for me.

---

Stone-Bear Hold, Kingsway 28, 9:44 Dragon

Cullen.

I’m sorry. Again. I really am.

I was angry at first. And hurt. The thought of not riding again… I have been scraped clean of so much, that the idea of realizing that I had given away that too was unbearable, even in theory. You were right in insisting, because yes. I do love horses not out of duty.

Spirits, or whatever power there is in this world, how many weeks of waking up before the dawn I did back in Haven, because I didn’t want a mount out of duty and out of a choice made for me, but I wanted that horse? With you, it’s the one thing I don’t want to give up on, and you reminded me I had to.

But you were right. – I miss your smug smile, now, I would so much love to be able to kiss it away.

After two days of being angry, I decided to go to camp out of spite.

I hate how people there can’t talk to me and the pity there. I should thank you for organizing my stay with the Avvar, it was… It was what I needed.

Anyway.

Little Brother was, indeed, angry. I can’t hardly blame him. I know how he’s feeling.

I stood there in the paddock, as in the first days. He ignored me for hours. And then he approached me. Bumped me to the ground with his head.

I deserved it, poor thing. I left him on his own for a month. And I know he must have felt abandoned and… And nobody should feel like that.

I cried for the first time in a month, and we cuddled.

You were right, my love. It did me well.

I think I’ll get back in the afternoons.

I never answered to you about magic and… I’m not using much magic. I’ve been seeing Desperation again in my dreams. Nothing much, I’m still here and I’m fine, both the Augur and Sigrid are aware. The Augur has been very helpful. I’m telling you because it may help you too.

He says that for all negative spirits we attract, there’s a good one too. The good one is lingering around, we just need to see it, even if it’s a little more difficult to tune down the noise of the other.

I feel mine: there’s Cole around, lingering at the edge of my vision. He hasn’t approached me yet, but I feel him, always there. At the ready should I… Well, I do need him. But I need him from afar.

I’m not yet ready to face head-on what happened, and facing him would mean that.

But I’m writing you from the stable, forgive the wobbly calligraphy. I hope you can still read it, but my desk is furry and breathing. I couldn’t take his head away from my legs, and I don’t want to. He needed this, and so do I.

I stopped crying, but I think I’ll get back at it in some minutes. It’s good for me, and I missed it too.

I feel hopeful today.

Thank you for pushing me to come here.

Thank you for knowing me better than I do. I needed that. I still do.

I will be ready to see Cole and talk with him. Eventually.

I think I’ll try to hop on Little Brother, tomorrow.

I should probably stop writing. I do miss you keenly, right now, and I wish you were here. Do not fret here, tho: you have work to do and I don’t want to distract you any more than I’m already doing, love.

I am fine. I’m not lying.

Please do not worry, and remember that I love you. Even if you make me angry at times.

I love you and I miss you, and I hope I’ll dream of you tonight, and that it’ll be a nice memory. It’s not that hot to swim, unfortunately, but I’ll be able to dream of when we did in Wycome.

Love, quite a lot of it even if it smells like horse, Aisling

---

Stone-Bear Hold, Kingsway 29, 9:44 Dragon

Cullen,

Nothing much to add since yesterday, honestly.

I just wanted you to be the first to know: I am waiting for Little Brother to be saddled. I need to find a way to do it myself, but-

*the rest is written in a calligraphy even less readable and clear than the rest, clearly scribbled very quickly.*

You must be kidding- Who am I writing to, I’m telling you directly.

Spirits, you’re so sappy it’s lucky I love you.

Or not, the lucky one is definitely me.

Here? Really? With all those reports?

Ok I’m done, I’m asking you.

---

Stone-Bear Hold, Kingsway 30, 9:44 Dragon

Hiding this in your boot as you sleep, if you won’t notice when you’ll put it up tomorrow, know that it’s the reason I smiled at you. Well, one of the reasons, not the only one and not the most important. But still.

Nothing much, I just wanted to say thank you, and reiterate that you’re impossible and stubborn and totally the fun police. And that I love you because you are.

Thank you, really.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #da fanfic #cullavellan #post trespasser #ANGST #writing petrel #aisling lavellan #cullen rutherford #epistolary #am I sure about anything of this? ABSOLUTELY NO #unfortunately my mind works in order I'll post this to hopefully be able to get on with the last prompt I have #also it's been in my WIP for two months and I'm tired of looking at it :"D

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broadlyall789 · 4 years

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handers-time · 7 years

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Day 3 - Judgement - Just One More

Title: Just One More

Author: eijentu

Prompt: Judgement

One more, Anders thought. Just one more. There was a song that went like that, wasn't there? Anders wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of anything anymore. Three days. Three days the Blind Auditions had been running now, and Anders had seen it all: the songbird nun in leather pants, the crooning Qunari with the eye-patch, the young guy who had been more hat than voice, in the end. And worse than that, Anders had heard it all now too: the soaring high notes, the clumsy rapping, the vocal gymnastics that, inevitably, fell as flat as the voices trying to produce them.

And there had been genuine talents too - the pub singer with the guitar, and, well, that nun had been rather good, actually; Isabela snapped her up with a smug grin for Team Bela - but after three days of it, Anders had had enough. It seemed as though every song ever penned in Thedas was jumbling about in his head. All the faces blurred together, all the voices melted into a single tuneless dirge. And now all Anders wanted was peace. A quiet room, a cup of tea, and his cat sprawled over his lap, purring her contentment while he read the music blogs online.

(A memory came back to him then, quick and unbidden, in that sly way memories do, of nights when he used to do just that; when music blogs were actual music papers that furled out over his legs - tangible in a way that things weren't anymore - and of strong warm hands kneading the soles of his feet. Karl used to do that quite often, Anders remembered: used to sit him down and rub his aching feet after hours of interviews and rehearsals and singing his heart out. Used to make him stop and just be for the first time all day.

"Look after your feet, they'll look after you," Karl had always said, laughing. Anders wasn't sure whether that was true, in the end.)

But now wasn't the time for that. In the years since he'd lost Karl, the raw grief of it had settled into something quieter, more muted; it was something Anders had learnt to live with, but it still came to the surface sometimes, and he really didn't want to risk his eyeliner just then. It was meant to be waterproof, of course, but Anders had heard that before. Waterproof meant nothing. He still remembered the paparazzi snaps after he'd sniffed that raw heirloom onion at a farmer's market in Lothering, face smeared with make-up as his eyes set to watering. Erratic Anders's breakdown over 'murdered vegetables', read the accompanying article. Some Kirkwall entertainment writer had outdone themselves there. Friends say the Grey Spaces singer, famous for his aggressive animal rights stance, has been a strict vegan for many years, but he has now taken things too far - by refusing to eat what he calls murdered vegetables. "Anders was in tears when he saw the onion," confided one long-time friend. Sources say the singer - who was fined 1,250 sovereigns for an anti-fur attack at Fereldan Fashion Week last Kingsway - bought the onion to "give it a decent burial".

Anders had, in fact, given the onion a decent burial in an eggplant bolognaise - but his trust in waterproof mascara had been shaken ever since.

All that aside, though, he just didn't have time. Not to stop and fix make-up, not to wallow in the warmth of times past. Three days. Three days of wobbly singing and forgotten lyrics and voices that stayed in tune until they didn't. Three days of achingly soft melodies and big, bold voices and sensitive arrangements that genuinely caught his attention. Three days, and Anders had almost a full team behind him now. But there was just one more space to fill. One more, he thought. Just one more.

Sadly, it wasn't to be the man on the stage before him now. Less sensitive arrangement, more bleach-blond Macklemore wannabe who thought that volume equalled goodness, that one. He'd belted out every note at the top of his voice, and even Merrill, who hadn't so much as flinched at the death metal grandfather (pure white dreadlocks and gravelly growl, that one) had twisted up her kind face in dismay at the din.

None of the other judges turned either, to Anders's complete lack of surprise. Merrill already had a full team, so she was out anyway - not that she'd been tempted, it seemed - but Isabela and Fenris shook their heads as well. Anders caught one last glimpse of the man's curiously noodlelike hair before the chairs swung back to their blind position.

'Shame,' said Isabela. 'He probably could have been a model, that one.'

Fenris grunted. 'Yes. If he'd had a different face, he probably could.'

Anders closed his eyes. He could hear the tap-tap of heels across the stage as the artist moved into position. A woman, then, or likely, at least. Anders didn't like to assume. One more, he thought. One more.

And then: a sweet, clear, pure sound. A little bit breathless around the edges: probably nerves, Anders thought, but it sort of worked for the voice too, gave it the kind of vulnerability that made you listen, drew you in.

His hand twitched towards the buzzer. The voice went on sweetly, staying mercifully in tune. Not much training, he'd say if he had to guess: she needed more control in places, but the right elements were there. He could work with this. If the artist would listen to him, he could work with this...

Merrill's chair creaked beside him. He opened his eyes and looked across: she was kneeling up in her seat to watch the singer, chin resting on her hands like a child. She was smiling hugely, and when she saw him looking, she flicked her eyes towards the stage, still smiling, and nodded enthusiastically.

'Kitten, how could you fraternise with the enemy?' Isabela laughed. Her strong, heavily-ringed hand came down on her buzzer, turning her chair, and that was enough to galvanise Anders as well; he pressed his own buzzer a split-second later and found himself staring at indisputable talent show gold: a pretty young woman with dark hair and eyes, cheeks pink with excitement as she brought her song to a close.

There was a moment of quiet as the remaining two judges - Merrill, with her full team and Fenris, with his complete lack of taste - turned their chairs to be part of the action.

'What's your name, sweet thing?' Isabela called in a velvety voice. Anders rolled his eyes. Isabela might be reigning queen, her artist having won last season, but Anders was having none of it; she wasn't going to steal this one away from him too.

Unfortunately, the girl looked rather awed at having Isabela address her. 'My name is Bethany Hawke,' she said, and there it was in her voice too, that slight natural breathiness. Isabela just about licked her chops. 'I'm 19 and I'm from Lothering, Ferelden.'

Isabela nodded. She leaned back in her chair and considered the girl a moment. Then, 'Well, you're very good, and I want you,' she said. Anders groaned. Bethany went a sudden blotchy red. 'Would that be alright, do you think? Could I have you?'

Bethany said, in a strangled sort of voice, 'Erm...'

'Er, just a moment!' Anders cut in. 'Don't let her fool you, sweetheart,' he said to Bethany. She did, at least, look pleased to be addressed by him as well, if less awed than she had been by Isabela. Anders went on, warming up his pitch. 'She's a cutthroat underneath all that, you know. A real pirate.'

A wave of laughter went through the arena. Quite a bit of it came from Isabela herself. Anders said, 'Listen, you've got a beautiful, vulnerable sort of quality to your voice,' and then Bethany looked at him, really looked at him, and he thought, I've still got a chance here. 'You've got a storyteller voice, a voice that draws people in, and that's exactly the kind of voice that interests me. I can help you develop that in your singing, help you connect with people through your music.'

'Bethany, I will teach you to connect like nobody else,' Isabela countered, and Bethany laughed, nervously. 'Total connection, I promise you that. I am available for my artists all hours, day or night.'

Isabela winked. Bethany reached up to play with her hair.

Damn it, Anders thought. It was all over, but he could have one last dig, at least. 'Bethany, can you trust a woman whose boots have caused more international incidents than Antivan diplomacy?' he said, his voice conspiratorially low.

Isabela laughed at that too. That was probably one of the reasons, Anders thought, he liked her so much. 'Oh, sweetheart. Can you trust a man who once posed naked for PETA with only a few strategically placed...roosters? Do we have a picture of that? Can someone find that?'

Anders said, 'That was for a bloody good cause and I'd do it again tomorrow,' but he was laughing now too and putting up his hands in defeat. The audience broke out into laughter and chatter; producers were moving about, directing cameras to move in for Bethany's close-ups and to nab family reaction shots, just out of sight at the edge of the stage. In a moment Bethany would accept Isabela's offer and then they'd all take a break while the crew set up for the next artist.

Perhaps the next one would be right. One more, Anders thought. One more.

And then, while Isabela was still calling for someone to find the poster to put up on the big screen, and Anders was still defending his roosters, Bethany said, quite suddenly, 'Oh, I know that one!' All eyes swivelled back towards her, but she was focused on Anders now, her pretty face lit up. Maybe I haven't lost this after all, he thought. Then, 'My brother has that poster; he used to kiss it every night before bed.'

The arena erupted. Anders could barely hear above the noise of the audience, screaming and laughter and hooting all blended into a glorious, deafening cacophony. Fenris was speaking, but his words were lost in the din. Merrill smiled, leaning up to shout in the ear of Isabela, who looked like her nameday and Satinalia had come all at once.

Anders couldn't hold back his smile either, try as he might. It was such a sweet, genuine sort of thing to say; exactly the kind of thing that someone like Bethany - and he didn't know her, but he felt he did somehow; he'd got a sense of her from the way she sang her song - would say. There was something lovely about it, though, the image of some young man kissing his poster faithfully night after night. It made Anders's heart flip over in a way...in a way that it hadn't for a while. Staggeringly touching, when he thought about it, the intimate, heartfelt ritual of it; and Bethany had been willing to share her brother's secret, not to flatter or embarrass anyone, but just to connect.

Anders tried not to think too hard about it. Waterproof counted for nothing, after all.

Embarrassment, however, was probably unavoidable for the brother, Anders thought. And evidently the producers had the same idea, because seconds later a trio appeared on the big screen: Bethany's family, waiting just out of sight off-stage. There was an older woman, presumably her mother, and two men who might be brothers. One was laughing, wiping his eyes from the effort of it, and the other...Anders swallowed. It was ridiculous, because he hadn't even had time to formulate what he might have expected, but this man, somehow, wasn't it: he was tall and beefy, with lines around his eyes and a nicely shaped beard. Anders's heart flipped over again, and then again.

The brother had, at that moment, the look of a nug caught in the headlights of a monster truck; red was creeping up his neck, into his ears, his cheeks. He was going to cover his face or walk away from the camera any minute, Anders realised, and he ignored the way his heart sank because that was just silly. He didn't know this brother. It was something the poor man had probably forgotten long ago. And so Anders ignored his lurching heart and started to think instead of something to say, some suitable quip to save face all round.

Then the brother smiled. It was a small smile, at first, uncertain - it made him look like his sister when Anders had first turned his chair - but then it bloomed across his face, bright and true. The lines around his eyes crinkled. The nicely shaped beard revealed a row of white teeth. He grinned into the camera and waved - almost casually, as though he couldn't be more at ease; but his face was fully red, brow shiny with perspiration, and it was the most charming thing Anders had seen in a very long time.

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

But peace did come for Anders, eventually. It came later, long after Isabela had clasped pretty young Bethany Hawke to her bosom - literally, in fact - and disappeared off-stage to bewitch her family as well. Anders caught one last glimpse of the brother as Isabela leaned in close to say something, then the big screen changed and they were lost. The show went on, the final buzzer sounded. The audience made their way out of the arena, filtering slowly to the car parks and streets beyond. The crew packed up the set, the dailies went to post-production. Anders went to his dressing room and asked a runner to bring him some tea. That, it seemed, had been that.

Just as well, Anders thought. Might've been messy.

His feet ached. He brought one of them up into his lap to rub at it, but it wasn't the same as when Karl used to do it, somehow; he gave up on it, let the foot fall again. It was eerily quiet in his dressing room, despite the whirl of activity he knew was still going on outside. His phone lit up, some message or reminder flashing across the screen, but he left it for now. This was his moment: the moment he'd been waiting for all day. To sit quietly and enjoy his tea: enjoy the absence of producers squawking in his ear or Fenris snarling in the other one or crestfallen looks from those who hadn't made the grade.

In theory, Anders loved the premise of the show: to judge artists based purely on their voices, without any other bullshit getting in the way. It was the kind of chance he would have given his soul for when he was a young queer artist, just starting out: a six-foot-two beanpole with eye shadow and a feather boa. Everyone told him he would never make it, that he needed to play by their rules, fit their moulds first; and if he did that, then one day, once he was famous enough, once he was respected enough...one day, perhaps he could actually be himself.

Anders had told them to fuck themselves; he'd carved out his career with his own nail-polished fingers, and now it was Dragon 42 and nobody blinked if a man wore eyeliner at the Grammys. That didn't mean there wasn't still a long way to go. Discrimination still ran rampant. Kids still got told they would never make it because they were too fat or too dark or too gay. It made Anders's blood boil. And so Thedas Voice might be just another cheap reality show in a sea of cheap television, but Anders believed in that part of it, at least; talent before image, opening doors to diversity.

He would drown the industry in blood to keep that dream safe.

And so the last thing he needed was a distraction, he thought. He looked around his dressing room, with his cooling cup of tea and flashing phone and his cold aching feet bare against the carpet, and he thought, Good. Quiet, simple. Exactly what I want.Because the last thing he needed was a tall, good-looking man with a nice beard and crinkly eyes having some sort of thing for him...

Anders bit down on that train of thought. Stuffed his feet back into his socks with more force than necessary.

Then: knock, knock.

Perhaps it was another runner, one who could bring him a nice hot refill of tea.

'Come in!' Anders called out. And then, a few seconds later, when the familiar owner of a nice beard stood in the doorway, he managed to say, 'Oh, it's you!'

'Um,' said the brother. He looked away down the hall, and then back at Anders. The little line deepened between his brows. 'It's me, yes. Yes. You're...not the toilet, though.'

And at that, Anders had to laugh, out loud, in fact, because it was either that or cry. Waterproof counted for nothing. He said, 'How sweet of you to say so. Not everyone shares your opinion, I'm afraid.'

The brother closed his eyes briefly. Then, 'Well. That probably wasn't the kind of first impression I was hoping to make. Perhaps I could go out and start again?'

Anders grinned. This really was too easy. 'Your sister made your first impression for you much earlier in the evening, I'm afraid,' he said, and watched as the man froze.

'Or perhaps I could go crawl under a mountain. Yes, that sounds like a much better idea.'

Oh, he's funny, Anders thought suddenly. For even as he watched the flush creeping up the man's neck, across his cheeks, he could see his twitching mouth. There was a twinkle in his eyes that hadn't been visible on the big screen.

He's got a nice voice as well, Anders thought.

'How about you come in and tell me your name instead?' Anders said out loud, and ignored the way his heart skipped at the naked joy on the other man's face.

'That's a very easy thing to say yes to,' the brother replied. As he came in, he made a quick gesture with the door, as it to say, open or closed?; there was something so endearing about that, so wonderfully unassuming, that Anders just stared at him for a moment before he gestured back, closed, and motioned at the other seat in the room.

The brother dragged it over and sat down. He smoothed his palms against his T-shirt - wiped them, more likely, Anders thought, but who cared? - and said, 'It's Hawke, by the way. Garrett, really.'

Anders said, 'I thought you were trying to tell me you were Hawke Hawke for a moment there. I was going to have to have a word with your parents.'

Garrett laughed at that. It was a light, easy sort of laugh, that matched his nice voice. Anders didn't mean to notice that. 'Not sure that's actually worse than Garrett, to be honest,' Garrett was saying. 'Bethany's alright, I suppose. My brother landed with Carver, though, so he's the worst off.'

Garrett's eyes twinkled. There was a funny, bubbly sort of feeling trying to work its way out of Anders's chest. He said, as casually as he could, 'I guess I should be glad hewasn't kissing my poster each night. He might've come in looking for the toilet with a chainsaw.'

Well, now the elephant in the room was well and truly awake. Anders expected Garrett to go red at that; to bluster and shut down, maybe edge back towards the door, but instead the man just nodded, a wry look on his face. 'Yes. For that and many other reasons, you should be glad it wasn't him, honestly.'

Garrett's eyes were still twinkling. Bloody hell, Anders thought.

Somehow, without meaning to, Anders found himself saying, 'Did you really do that?' His cheeks were starting to feel warm. 'Kiss the poster every night?'

'Yes. Bethany is appallingly honest, I'm afraid. I warn you now.'

Anders tucked a piece of hair back behind his ear. 'But you don't still do it?' he said lightly.

And that was a mistake, he realised immediately, because Garrett was shaking his head firmly no. 'I don't still do it.'

Oh. Oh.

At that, the small, hopeful feeling in Anders's chest flickered out, and it was silly, he knew he was being silly, but he felt...let down. His phone flashed again: he reached across and picked it up, scrolled through his notifications, and so he sounded completely unaffected - like he always did - when he said, 'Well, I don't look like that anymore, of course. Not a spring chicken anymore.'

It was his favourite joke to make about the rooster poster; somehow, this time, he didn't feel like laughing at it.

But, 'You're still super hot without the roosters, trust me,' Garrett said. Anders nearly dropped his phone. When he looked back at Garrett, the man shrugged. 'I mean, that's not why I stopped kissing the poster. Obviously.'

'Obviously,' Anders echoed.

'Just that I realised maybe it wasn't very respectful,' and for the first time, Garrett looked a bit sheepish. He stared down at his large hands; there were guitar calluses on his fingers, Anders noticed for the first time. 'But it wasn't just that.'

'Good,' said Anders, 'Because I don't mind about that at all. It's an authorised poster. What was it, then?'

Garrett smiled softly. He was still looking down at his hands, and he was going red again, but when he spoke, his voice was steady, certain. 'Because I realised I wanted to thank you every night instead.'

Anders's breath caught somewhere in his chest. 'For what?' he said.

'For being brave,' and now Garrett did look at him. He was grinning massively. Anders's heart gave another skip. 'For being out. For being who you are and telling me, when I was 17 that it was OK to be me as well. I used to play my dad's old Strat and dream of being a musician and I never thought it could happen.' Garrett made a vague sort of gesture with his hand. 'Because I could be that or I could be this. But I couldn't be both.' He shook his head. 'Then you came along. Not that much older than me. You were beautiful and insanely talented,' and here Garrett gulped, but he went on anyway, 'and you still are. So, thank you.'

It was difficult, Anders thought, to know what to say to that. He had a feeling he might be staring, though, because Garrett grinned, and looked away again, and laughed, and ran a hand through his hair.

It wasn't as though Anders hadn't heard that before; he was a rock star, he was a living legend; hell, even the trailer for Thedas Voice blew more wind up his arse than Garrett just had. But somehow...somehow...

Anders swallowed. 'But you're a musician now,' he said. Garrett nodded. 'Why didn't you audition, then? I could have you for Team Anders!'

'You've actually got a full team now,' Garrett reminded him dryly, 'but I'm not a singer; I stuck with the guitar. I'm a session musician now. Working to get my break. It's good. I love it.'

An idea began to take seed in Anders mind. He began to smile - he couldn't stop - and Garrett smiled back, though he didn't know about Anders's idea yet.

'How many of my songs do you know lead guitar for?' Anders said.

Garrett gave another little shrug. 'Hard to say. Is 'a lot' a number?'

Anders picked up his phone again. 'It's a very good number,' he said. He opened up a new contact page and passed it over to Garrett, who looked down at the phone and then back up, his eyes wide. 'Perhaps you could give me another good number. One I could call you on about a band audition? My band, just to be clear.'

Garrett looked back down at the phone. Anders could see the bob of his throat as he swallowed, the pink of his tongue as he licked his lips. Wordlessly, he entered his information and handed the thing back to Anders.

And then, 'Just about rehearsals? Or about other things as well.'

Anders raised his eyebrows. It probably would have looked convincing if he wasn't still smiling uncontrollably. 'Other things?'

Garrett was smiling uncontrollably too. So it was probably alright. 'Other things,' he said. 'Like coffee. And...roosters.'

~the end.

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world9x9 · 4 years

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DJ Tonioly Urban Vibes Mixtape Download DJ Tonioly Urban Vibes: Nigerian prolific singer, DJ Tonioly comes through with this brand new music mixtape tagged “Urban Vibes“. Download & Listen: Download Mixtape: DJ Tonioly – Urban Vibes https://jambaze.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/03/Dj-Tonioly-Urban-Vibes-Mixtape.mp3 TRACKLIST 1. DIE YOUNG – RODDIE RICH 2. MEMORIES – MAROON 5 3. TRY ME – TEMS 4. AJE – DIAMOND JIMMA ft OTEGA 5. WHAT IF I SAY – FIREBOY DML 6. RORA – REEKADO BANKZ 7. VACANCY – YCEE 8. KING – FIREBOY DML 9. GUNSHOT – PERUZZI 10. OGOLOGOMA – DJ BIG N ft REMA 11. BEAMER – REMA 12. PAH POH – KIZZ DANIEL 13. SKELETON – TEKNO 14. MAD – SARZ X WURLD 15. JEALOUS – JOEBOY 16. TOMMOROW – DJ NEPTUNE ft VICTOR AD 17. ROYAL RUMBLE – LIL KESH ft NAIRA MARLEY 18. VIBRATION – FIREBOY DML 19. JAHO – KIZZ DANIEL 20. OZANA – HOTKID 21. POCKET – NINIOLA 22. BABY – JOEBABY 23. ODOGWU – BURNA BOY 24. MARRY – TENI 26. DON’T CALL ME BACK – JOEBOY x MAYORKUN 27. ONLY ONE – PERUZZI 28. TAKE IT – RUDE BOY 29. WORRY – LYTA 30. 1 MILLI – DAVIDO 31. BEGINNING – JOEBOY 32. DUMEBI – REMA 33. INSTR JUICE – YCEE 34. PAK N GO – KIZZ DANIEL 35. JORE – ADEKUNLE GOLD ft KIZZ DANIEL 36. OMO OLOGO – FIREBOY DML 37. KOLE RE BODY – LIL FROSH ft MAYORKUN 38. CHOCO MILO – OLAMIDE 39. MASUN – CDQ 40. SCATTER – FIREBOY DML 41. ALAHJI RIDDIM – KILLLERTUNEZ ft Dj Tunez 42. MAFO – NAIRA MARLEY 43. URIPE PAW PAW – ZLATAN 44. TINGASA – NAIRA MARLEY & C BLVCK 45. LADY – REMA 46. PONGILAH – SLIMCASE ft ZLATAN 47. TESUMOLE – NAIRA MARLEY 48. WAN MA – OLAMIDE 49. GENG – MAYORKUN 50. MY PEOPLE – SMALL DOCTOR 51. KO MA JESUN – MOHBAD ft NAIRA MARLEY 52. INSTAGRAM – REMINISCE ft NAIRA MARLEY & OLAMIDE 53. OPEN FIRE – PATORANKING ft BUSISWA 54. BABA LAO – PLATINUMZ DIAMOND 55. READY TO DANCE – DJ LISALI ft Dj YK 56. WORO – DJ 4KERTY ft Q2 & IDOWEST 57. JERUSALEMA – MASTER KG 58. PARTE AFTER PARTE – QDOT ft 2T BOYZ 59. LAMBA EXTRA – SLIMCASE 60. BABY KINGSWAY – C BLVCK ft NAIRA MARLEY 61. SCAMMERS – AKON ft OLAMIDE 62. MO 40 – RAHMAN JAGO ft BARRY JHAY 63. OLOUN – MR REAL ft PHYNO & REMINISCE 64. BBHMM rmx – SARZ ft RIHANNA 65. OWO – CDQ 66. LAMBA – DESTINY BOY 67. QUILOX – ZLATAN 68. ACCOUNT BALANCE – SMALL DOCTOR 69. UNFOLLOW WA rmx – MR GBAFUN ft SMALL DOCTOR 70. FEDA – K NICE BELLO 71. GOBE – PHEELZ ft OLAMIDE x NAIRA MARLEY 72. ISHEYEN – NAIRA MARLEY 73. GAGA CRAZY – CHUDDY K 74. LAGOS BEAT – DJ DARMLEX 75. DJ TONIOLY JINGLE. Share on: WhatsApp The post Mixtape: DJ Tonioly – Urban Vibes appeared first on JamBaze.com.

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ministrynuggets-blog · 5 years

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Developing Spiritually Mature Temperaments

How to Be a Spiritually Mature Sanguine Husband or Wife

1. Stick to moral principles––one man, one wife!

2. Walk in the Spirit in your thought life: “...make not provision for the flesh...” (Romans 13:14). If a sanguine indulges in immoral fantasies he will soon fan his passions out of control.

3. Encourage your wife to be expressive. A loving, responsive and affectionate wife who freely lets her husband know how much she enjoys his love will keep many men.

4. His wife must be the sole object of his exuberant affection. He must avoid flirtations and flattery of other women (thereby reassuring his own wife and other women’s husbands). He should concentrate on bringing joy and fulfilment to his wife.

5. Talk less and listen more––God gave you two ears and one mouth––be quick to hear, slow to speak and slow to anger. See the pitfalls of exaggeration, and try not to exaggerate.

6. Put away self-centredness. Most sanguines tend to be self-centred and self absorbed––they often do not remember people, their names and other details about them.

7. Carry a personal notebook so you jot down important things like dates, addresses, events etc.

8. Spend time if you must, with people who are a positive influence, and who will challenge you to grow as a Christian.

9. Practise being a good listener––do not interrupt or finish people’s sentences for them. Do not plot your sentence when others are speaking.

10. Focus on your heart––“...out of it (the heart) are the issues of life” (Proverbs 4:23). A good heart will lead you to good places.

11. Use your personal popularity to promote good. For example, by engaging in witnessing and interaction.

12. Spread your creativity––at special events at church and for others.

13. Reach out to the lonely––you are a natural people person.

How to Be a Spiritually Mature Choleric Husband or Wife

1. Ask yourself what makes you want to take control.

2. Don’t think you know it all––only God does.

3. Be humble.

4. Learn to relax and know that the most important things in life are not just work and achievement but family, spouse, and people––make time for them and demonstrate love.

5. Acknowledge the truth that you are not in control of the universe––let God be God.

6. Realize that you are not naturally a people-person and make a conscious decision to work on that weakness.

7. Learn not to force your advice and opinion on people.

8. Feel free to let others be right sometimes.

9. Watch your tongue and try to be loving.

10. Be courageous, provide leadership, crusade for a good cause, stay productive, remain open and honest for these are your strengths.

11. Learn to forgive––vengeance is the Lord’s.

12. Show love and compassion.

13. Understand that many people are not as self-sufficient as you are. Others harbour doubts, unlike the choleric. He must therefore patiently show kindness and encourage his wife in lovemaking and she will be a better performer.

14. You must often give your spouse approval, love and acceptance.

15. You must develop tenderness and affection for your wife and children. The choleric must learn to say , “I love you” frequently and show his wife constantly that he is proud of her.

16. Eliminate sarcasm. Disrespectful, unkind and resentful words from you will turn your wife off.

17. You must be aware of the fact that the threat of an instant choleric explosion prevents your wife from expressing her real emotions to you. This is a hindrance to your love life.

18. The choleric wife must also walk in the spirit so as to conquer her hot temper and sarcastic tongue.

19. She must develop her emotional capability to show love and affection; recognizing that the more she expresses love, the easier it will come.

20. She must learn forgiveness especially for her father––no woman can fully enjoy her husband if she harbours hatred or anger toward her father.

21. Strong-minded, opinionated, often willful choleric wives may vent their frustration and anger on their husbands and stifle their expressions of love.

22. A choleric woman may have this problem because she resisted her father’s affections as a little girl.

23. Not realizing why she was rejected by her father, the choleric girl may increasingly withdraw from her father and refuse to show any normal expressions of emotion toward her father. This will encourage a growing resentment toward men.

24. She must avoid heaping sarcasm, criticism and ridicule on her husband in the area of sex.

25. Cholerics exude such self-confidence that without saying anything, people naturally feel inadequate. The choleric wife therefore needs to let her husband know how much she values him as a man and a lover––she must express appreciation for the masculinity of her man.

How to Be a Spiritually Mature Melancholic Husband or Wife

1. Lower your standards––we live in an imperfect world where things don’t always turn out as you plan. Learn to accept imperfection from yourself and especially from your wife and children. This will liberate you from the bondage of perfectionism.

2. Cultivate a heart of grace and mercy; consider the beam in your own eye when you get absorbed by the speck of others.

3. Develop your sense of humour.

4. Make a conscious effort to overcome depression. That is:

i. Meditate on God’s Word and pray daily (Psalm 119:27-28).

ii. Count your blessings (1 Thessalonians 5:18).

iii. Ponder on truths about who you are in Christ and believe them (Romans 8:17).

iv. Set yourself free––make a conscious effort to forgive those who have offended you. Forgiving doesn’t make them right but it sets you free (Matthew 6:12-15).

v. Stop, and look for the silver lining in the gray cloud––choose to focus your attention on what’s right in the world rather than what’s wrong (Philippians 4:6-8).

vi. Realize that depression is frequently biochemical; seek medication if you have to.

5. Be realistic––let go of unrealistic expectations. They only lead to disappointment, bitterness and anger. This is an imperfect world filled with imperfect people (Romans 3:23).

6. Concern yourself with the needs of others and not just yours.

7. Give unconditional love and not rewarded love.

8. Avoid critical and pessimistic attitudes which are two of your biggest problems. This causes you to become frequently disillusioned when things and people including your spouse don’t measure up.

9. Maintain a positive and wholesome thought life by thinking good things and giving thanks in everything.

10. Encourage your spouse with verbal assurances of love and approval.

11. The melancholic wife needs to have a vital relationship with Jesus Christ so that she may enjoy the love, peace and joy He gives, to make her an effective person.

12. Maintain a thankful attitude instead of thinking negatively and being critical so that you will have a happier outlook on life and enjoy more fruitful relationships. You must accept your husband as he is allowing God to make the needed changes. Your submission to him must not depend on his behaviour but on your obedience to Christ.

13. Forget about yourself and love your husband unconditionally so that you will reap a harvest of love in return.

14. You must learn the lesson of forgiveness.

How to Be a Spiritually Mature Phlegmatic Husband or Wife

1. Recognize that your unflinching behaviour can be a form of control for others because once the phlegmatic finds out he can upset others by his refusal to get enthused, he will use this ability as a quiet form of control and chuckle at the antics others go through trying to elicit excitement from him.

2. Recognize sluggishness as laziness and overcome it with hard work.

Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise:

Proverbs 6:6

For even when we were with you, this we commanded you, that if any would not work, neither should he eat. For we hear that there are some which walk among you disorderly, working not at all, but are busybodies. Now them that are such we command and exhort by our Lord Jesus Christ, that with quietness they work, and eat their own bread.

2 Thessalonians 3:10-12

3. Find ways to motivate yourself.

4. Actively seek to comfort those around you. It’s an incredible gift you have. Don’t allow your lack of motivation to drown this.

5. Translate your thoughts into actions.

6. Enhance your note-writing and card-sending ministry.

7. Persevere in maintaining old friendships because you’re good at that.

8. Be a peacemaker––use your mediation skills.

9. You must accept Christ and acknowledge that you are a sinner; a fact many phlegmatics find difficult to acknowledge.

10. You must walk in the spirit each day so as to gain motivation to overcome your passivity, selfishness, and fears; then you can become an exciting lover.1

Notes

1. Beverly LaHaye, The Spirit-Controlled Woman (Eugene, Oregon: Harvest House Publishers, 1995), 195; Tim LaHaye, Spirit-Controlled Temperament (Wheaton, Illinois: Tyndale House, 1993), 213, 231 - 51; Tim LaHaye, Opposites Atrract (Eastbourne: Kingsway Publications, 2000), 107

by Dag Heward-Mills

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culinaryinquisitor-blog · 6 years

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Worshipful Company of Cooks celebrate...

New Post has been published on https://culinaryinquisitor.com/worshipful-company-of-cooks-celebrate/

Worshipful Company of Cooks celebrate...

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The Worshipful Company of Cooks has celebrated the achievements of the chef apprentices that it has supported through their studies.

At a lunch in honour of high achieving students who graduated from Westminster Kingsway College last year, the Livery Company reinforced its support for the chefs as it seeks to add value to their apprenticeship programme.

As part of its initiative to work with the students it provides practical and financial support, specialist cooking tuition and professional mentoring. The programme sponsors one group of apprentices at Level 2 and another at Level 3 each year.

Once apprentices complete both levels they are invited to join the Cooks Company, through which they will be supported as they embark on their careers.

Addressing the students Graham Craddock, chairman of the catering committee at the Company of Cooks, said: “This is an extremely tough business requiring physical and mental energy. There are few jobs that give the satisfaction and pleasure – and the more degrees of difficulty the greater the sense of achievement.

“You will see that pressure is a two-edged sword. Along the way, there will be huge disappointments when everything goes tits up. The really special ones amongst you will be able to take that on the chin, learn from mistakes and get going again.

“There will be occasions when everything seems disastrous – I would recommend that you develop a good sense of humour. But as well as that make sure that you have a strong network of friends, family, colleagues, mentors, bosses who can listen, and understand and by doing so help. You can now add to that list – The Worshipful Company of Cooks.

“By being one of our apprentices you have already started a lifetime source of help. The Company will always be there for you.”

The four graduates present at the lunch – Leah Johnson, Lamar Greaves, James Goodman and Marie McWhinney – will all be assigned a member of the company as their ‘Master’ to mentor them through their four years as a Cooks’ Company Apprentice.

Gordon Ramsay Group vows to combat chef shortage with apprentice scheme>>

Are you ready for the apprenticeship levy?>>

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shareyoursmile · 6 years

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The Worshipful Company of Cooks has celebrated the achievements of the chef apprentices that it has supported through their studies.

Once apprentices complete both levels they are invited to join the Cooks Company, through which they will be supported as they embark on their careers.

“By being one of our apprentices you have already started a lifetime source of help. The Company will always be there for you.”

Gordon Ramsay Group vows to combat chef shortage with apprentice scheme>>

Are you ready for the apprenticeship levy?>>

Videos from The Caterer archives

youtube

Are you looking for a new role? See all the current hospitality vacancies available with The Caterer Jobs

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olaluwe · 6 years

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Daddy Freeze of freethesheep movement.

Nothing in recent memory seems to have affected the bank-balances of Nigerian pastors as Daddy Freeze’s exposure of the deception of tithing in churches.

Nigerian tithe-collecting pastors are up in arms, throwing every possible missile at him, including death threats. Jesus says: “Whoever desires to save his life will lose it.” (Matthew 16:25). Since Freeze’s exposure, tithe-collecting pastors have been spouting fire and brimstone, hopelessly trying to save their lives. Death Threats The assault on Freeze brings to mind the assault of Jewish pastors on Jesus when he also exposed their deception and hypocrisy. The upshot of this was the decision to have Jesus killed with extreme prejudice. Similarly, Daddy Freeze says a pastor, whose church he attended for 11 good tithe-paying years, has placed a death sentence on him for preaching against tithing. The pastor “prophesied” that Freeze would die within two years. Jesus says: “An evil man out of the evil treasure of his heart brings forth evil. For out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks.” (Luke 6:45). You can easily tell that this so-called pastor is a charlatan masquerading as a child of God. Not only does he curse his enemies contrary to the way of Christ, even his curses are fake. Otherwise, why wait for two years for Freeze to die? Why not kill him right now? Apostle Suleiman Perhaps that anonymous pastor learnt a lesson from another endangered tithe-collector: self-styled Apostle Suleiman. The “apostle” exposed himself by foolishly prophesying that Nasir El-Rufai, the governor of Kaduna State, would die within two weeks. Unfortunately for him, the governor obstinately refused to die. “Apostle” Suleiman was so riled up over Daddy Freeze’s preachments against tithing, he announced the decision to raise his tithe from 10 percent to 30 percent in retaliation. Clearly, the “apostle” needs to go back to bible school. So doing, he would learn that a tithe is 10 percent and can never be 30 percent. Rather than boast publicly about fictitious increases in his tithes, his eminence the “apostle” should endeavour to listen to Jesus: “Be careful not to do your ‘acts of righteousness’ before men, to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 6:1). “When you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.” (Matthew 6:3-4). Paul Adefarasin On his part, tithe-collecting Paul Adefarasin took the whole debate to stratospheric levels, the better to make tithing unassailable to fastidious bible scholars. He said: “God created the universe, he took a tithe: the Milky Way. God created the Milky Way, he took a tithe: the Galaxy. God created the Galaxy, he took a tithe: our Solar System. God created the Solar System, he took a tithe: Planet Earth. God created the Planet Earth, he took a tithe: Israel. God created Israel, he took a tithe: Jerusalem.” At this juncture, I began to wonder if it could equally be postulated that God created Lagos, he took a tithe: Adefarasin’s House on the Rock! Who ever heard of God paying tithes? By the time the erudite pastor waxed lyrical and refashioned Jesus as: “a tithe, holding a tithe, going into a tithe,” his congregation could not bear it any longer. They burst into wild applause which I took to mean: “This pastor of ours is just too much!” Matthew Ashimolowo But the response to Freeze that took the cake came from Matthew Ashimolowo of Kingsway International Christian Centre. He felt so threatened by Daddy Freeze, he dropp Jesus says: “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.” (Matthew 7:3-5). Ashimolowo”s hypocrisy is mind-boggling. Those who live in glass houses should not throw stones. Wealth Transfer Some years back, Ashimolowo advertised a crusade in Port Harcourt, captioned “The Coming Wealth Transfer.” This was based on the spurious pie-in-the-sky notion that God is soon going to transfer the wealth of non-Christians to Christians. However, officials of the Charity Commission in England, an organization which routinely polices the affairs of nominally non-profit organization including churches, detected a more genuine wealth transfer taking place in Ashimolowo’s KICC. That wealth transfer was not from God to the members of Ashimolowo’s church: it was from members of the church to Ashimolowo. The Commission discovered “serious misconduct and mismanagement” in the finances of KICC. It alleged that hundreds of thousands of pounds were dubiously transferred overseas. A £120,000 birthday party was given for Ashimolowo, out of which £80,000 was used to buy him a spanking Mercedes Benz. It was also reported that Ashimolowo used the church’s visa card to buy a timeshare apartment in Florida. Should a man with this questionable CV tell Christians what they should believe and give? You be the judge. The Commission maintained Ashimolowo acted as both trustee and paid employee of KICC, in contravention of British charity law. He allegedly approved suspicious payments and benefits to himself and his wife made to his private companies operated illegally from church premises. As a result of these irregularities, KICC was placed in the hands of receivers, new trustee managers were appointed and Ashimolowo was asked to repay £200,000 to the church. The upshot of this was that Ashimolowo relocated temporarily to Nigeria, where he started preaching about “Sweat-less Wealth,” and “Twenty-Four Hour Miracles. ” The latter required the gullible to give their monies, cars, televisions, stereos, cell-phones and even the Certificates of Occupancy of their houses to preachers in order to receive fictitious financial windfalls from heaven within 24 hours. A few of my acquaintances were scammed at these 419 “crusades.” Deceived-deceivers God says: “Among my people are found wicked men; they lie in wait as one who sets snares; they set a trap; they catch men.” (Jeremiah 5:26). Daddy Freeze has put these tithe-collecting fraudsters on the warpath, fighting to defend their bank-balances. Surely, he did not expect them to surrender their meal-tickets without a fight. Who is afraid of Daddy Freeze? Thief- and robber-pastors. The fear of Daddy Freeze is the beginning of mischief in Nigerian churches. [email protected]; http://ift.tt/2AYB2Lp

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