#forrel

[papier-ciseaux]

Having a little fun with OCs ! Presenting: Some of my earliest fantrolls ^w^

[sunfish999]

Im just a girl (nonbinary)

[dragonita-arts]

Artfight attack and past revenge, Moonstone for @edible-emerald!

[eyestrain-addict]

I hope if IWTV adds viktor they change it to him being the vampiric version of Annie. I want Louis raising Viktor in a mansion spoiling him rotten, all the vampire staff are also spoiling him because they're charmed by his humanity. Louis dresses in old Hollywood glamor because it's what he deserves. If any vamp even so much as sniffs Viktor (hungerly) Louis lights them on fire.

[dustedmagazine]

Algiers – Shook (Matador)

On Shook, Franklin James Fisher, Lee Tesche, Ryan Mahan and Matt Tong sound refreshed, energized by collaboration and completely confident in their identity. Switching organically between punk, gospel, soul, hip hop, jazz and afro-futurism, Algiers speaks directly to a world under siege, a cacophonous ball of confusion from which they meld a cohesive interrogation of the violence at the heart of American power and a celebration of resistance and survival.

Fisher’s voice is a commanding presence throughout, and the call-and-response construction of many of the songs provides a unifying motif. In the adrenaline-fueled rushes of “Something Wrong” and “Good Man,” the band rediscovers the power that made their first two albums so compelling. But it’s the engagement with collaborators that provides the most interesting moments. Rapper Big Rube calls for resistance over a minimal orchestra swell and massed distant voices on “As it Resounds”; billy woods and Backxwash speak directly to police violence and the manipulation of white grievance over a skittering drum machine and piano motif on “Bite Back.” Mark Cisneros ties the “Out Of Style Tragedy” of domestic weaponization to victory of political and financial self-interest as the band chants Sun Ra’s “Nuclear War” in the background. Jae Matthews provides the female counterpoint to Fisher and Samuel T. Herring on the lacerating “I Can’t Stand It.” LaToya Kent speaks from the perspective of a black mother: “Burying her feelings with the men she bore to life/Her heart heavier than the body.”  On “An Echophonic Soul,” DeForrest Brown, Jr’s electronics and Patrick Shirioshi’s sax provide a keening background to an invocation of the other dead in the electric mist.

The record closes with Lee Bains III intoning, “When we die/The neighbors will bring casseroles/Drag shows will be held in our honor/… /The marchers in the boulevard will take their knee/Raise their fist/Drop their face/Silent in the midday traffic/Like a stone in a quick river/When we die, our beloved, our kinfolk/Fear not, we rise.” The song delivers a modicum of hope amid the bloodshed and culture war bullshit that drives it. At a time when black, female and queer lives and agency are being erased and their histories whitewashed, the diversity of voices and styles gives Shook astonishing power as an expression of possibility. Algiers may not have the answers but they’re damn sure asking the right questions. The material is here, heed the call.

As a sidenote, in January Queens producer King Vision Ultra released Shook World, a mix tape built on stems from Shook (supplied by Algiers) and his own sound archive featuring guests such as DJ Haram, ELUCID, Dreamcrusher and Dis Fig. It is envisioned as a companion piece rather than a remix, a conversation which broadens the scope of both records. It is well worth hearing and can be found here: https://algierstheband.bandcamp.com/album/shook-world-hosted-by-algiers

Andrew Forell

[buttercuparry]

Gendry holding Arya's hand and saying "these soft things". Jon thinking about Arya needing protection. Ravella Smallwood calling Arya pretty and telling her to be brave. Weasel, who lost her mom, clinging to Arya for comfort. Daena and (Arya) giggling together. Arya bringing flowers for Ned. Hot Pie slipping Arya a tart. Umma setting Arya to work on meal prep. The whores of Happy Port being kind to ( Arya). Nymeria protecting Arya. Syrio Forrel treating Arya with respect. All warm things. Deserving of appreciation because people seem to forget Arya is as much vulnerable as the rest of them.

[nerdcousin]

You know that bit in the first A Song of Ice and Fire book/season one of Game of Thrones, where Syrio Forrel has Arya chasing cats?

Arya is chasing a mean, black tomcat, he’s the only one she hasn’t been able to catch.

A few chapters later, Varys tells Ned that fourteen years earlier (just about as long as cats live) the little Princess Rhaenys had a little black kitten called Balerion.

You can’t tell me that wasn’t intentional.

[scarletfire03]

My adhd brain i thought i lost my earbuds forrel but they were in the SPICE RACK IN THE KITCHEN WHAT THE FUCK WHY ARE THEY THERE I LOOKED EVERYWHERE BUT FUCKING ADHD BLINDNESS OR WHATEVER

[thriftstorerecords]

Firestone Presents Your Favorite Christmas Music Volume 4 Various Artists Forrell & Thomas, Inc./USA (1965)

[abandonedsdjfhcvndfbv]

i might for real nap i never nap imso sleepy rhough i might nap forreL..my arm hurz

[mr-candleman]

u get bitches ? Forrel?

No, I don't get bitches. The people I love have me, though.

[papier-ciseaux]

I drew some of my fantrolls ! 

They’re all disasters...

[dustedmagazine]

Lost Girls — Selvutsletter (Smalltown Supersound)

Photo by Johannes Andersen

With Selvutsletter, the second full-length album from Jenny Hval and Håvard Volden’s Lost Girls, the duo have turned their scope outwards, expanded their view and produced a weighty, engulfing set of songs. Their first long playing offer, 2021’s Menneskekollektivet, thrust itself at the listener with a relatively stripped down sound, taking cues from minimal techno and experimenting more with Hval’s vocal mix. It was bracing and uncomfortable and irresistible —  an album as much watched as listened to — rapt either way. On Selvutsletter,Volden’s instrumentation is heavier but more dynamic, with active, chugging percussion, swirling keys, the odd horn stab, and low-slung, articulate guitar. The elements are kept consistently in play, mixing together, gathering in thick streams for the ear to parse out while the body can’t help but move. It’s an opalescent and somewhat haunted trip that can, despite its fairly traditional verse-chorus-verse-chorus structures, be harder to penetrate than Menneskekollektivet’s drawn out inquiries. Even the moments of ascendence and levity, like the bright chords on a song like “June 1996” are layered and ambient enough to take up the entire aural space. In this driving richness, it can be easy to let Hval’s voice and lyrics be two eloquent but complementary pieces, alternately starring and fading, but it’s in these that the album comes fully into focus.

Where the debut’s lyrics often spilled out in fascinating, circuitous monologues — less an invitation to hear than something overheard and unavoidable — the follow-up finds Hval carefully setting scenes, guiding us to their center. In ��With the Other Hand,” song two, she takes us across multiple thresholds. We “step out of the car/and into the street” then we “step into the bar/in the bar there’s a light/and it lights up the stage.” A few lines later, Hval and Volden lift off into the chorus. Her voice stretches and floats like smoke, playful and forceful: “whether you like it or not/with the other hand I open rooms/with the first one I write.” Andrew Forrell, in a review of Menneskekollektivet for Dusted, found Hval “a thoughtful interlocutor unafraid to think aloud in her quest to express her thoughts, to herself as much as to the audience.” She is just as unafraid here, but in that funny, defiant, and perhaps coercive refrain, she is speaking directly to us, the audience, staking out our respective roles. The confrontational intimacy of Menneskekollektivet is still there, but now it’s more controlled, assured of the point to make, like she’s thought things through and is ready to explain. The line that immediately precedes the chorus, “you hear something unfamiliar and strange/don’t look away/take it in,” reinforces the idea that you may have pressed play but you’re not in charge. That’s the best advice for listening to Selvutsletter: let yourself in but then allow it to occur; experience it and see where it takes you.

On “Re-entering,” for instance, the experiential is a somewhat shrouded present, settled for now, but haunted by both the past and a tenuous future. Alongside Volden’s thumping drum program and lilting synthesizer, Hval leads us into a city’s green space. First, she smells onions and reminds us that “during the war, they grew vegetables in this park.” The music drops out, then swells back, one wide droning key at time. In that brief pause, Hval lifts more history from the sensory: “…and here I smell footprints/they demonstrated here in the 1950s to legalize abortions/soon they will have to demonstrate again/I can smell it.” Hval isn’t merely being didactic, she’s reminding herself to bear witness as well, to trust her own experience, to not look away either, or, in this case, hold her breath. We hear this made explicit in the title and lyric of “Ruins.” When she says “I was here in place/when I didn't know/and therefore was evil,” it’s both a warning and an admission of fallibility. A call to action for each of us, her included, not to avert our eyes. With her repetition of the word “here,” she grounds the sentiment in place, pointing to concrete memories and circumstances that have existed, still do now, and may well persist.

The band’s translation of “selvutsletter” is “self-effacer.” I take this less as an erasure of self than a directive to properly situate the self to better engage with the world as it is. To understand where you’ve been and to find where you fit now and, importantly, to help others do the same. The album is vigorous in its grooves and leaves a powerful, unifying impression with its words. Like Hval says on the opener, “Timed Intervals” and of the “choreography of living” they allow for, it’s “as if thе world actually doesn't want us to hurt each other.” Let’s dance to that.

Alex Johnson 

[miammmiam]

On sale on my one line shop and today at Kollowitzplatz market and Weddingsmarkt (Leopoldplatz): « La pêche miraculeuse » (fishing game) is a handmade in Berlin game, screen printed in wood, produced by @marmotmoebel ! All the represented fishes are from European lakes and are not in danger species. #fish #fishinggame #wood #illustration #madeinberlin #handmade #siebdruck #serigraphie #kid #berlin #market #espadon #truite #forrelle #sprouts #bach #perche https://www.instagram.com/p/BrcbsgsFo7k/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1c2ge82ciy7tz

[inabcck]

Arya hadn't expected anyone to be watching her as she moved through the steps that Syrio had taught her that day. She wanted to be as good as he was so she practiced even when he wasn't around muttering the different sayings to herself as she did. She nearly jumped out of her skin when her uncle spoke her sword nearly falling out of her grip as she spun around to look at him. "Yes." She didn't know if her father told him about it or not though she guessed that he must have for him to call them dancing lessons also.

That was the nice thing about having a supportive father that he could sneak her these lessons under a different name so that she could fulfill her dreams of becoming a knight. It seemed that her uncle even though they weren't so close yet also supported this new hobby of hers. It honestly made Arya feel lucky to have such a good family that they weren't pushing her into a more typical station.

"Thanks." She gave him a little smile. "His name is Syrio Forrel he's from Braavos. He's teaching me Braavosi water dancing, I like it a lot."

Starter for @inabcck for Arya from Tony In response to this post

"Soo....dance lessons, huh?" Anthony was leaning against the doorway arch, an amused expression on his face as he had watched his youngest niece train alone.

He didn't know Arya that well, having left Winterfell shortly after her birth and only now slowly starting to build a connection with her and her sister, since their arrival in Kings Landing with their father. But despite the short time, he couldn't help but be reminded of his older sister Lyanna. She had had done the same hadn't she? Secretly taking lessons with the sword and beating him easily when it had come down to playful fights.

"You're good." From what little he had seen so far that was. "Who's teaching you?"