#blackbar

[popstarryl0]

I haven't logged on here in a while... my bad, I was busy rebranding <3

Please enjoy these press photos shot by the one & only Devin Kasparian.

[wildguppies]

Marzo 2023

[i-give-you-a-fish]

hello lovely fish blog may I humbly request a fish shaped vibe check and for you to have a wonderful day

VIBE CHECK

You get a Blackbar Damselfish

Plectroglyphidodon dickii

[mrs-stans]

@theblackbarsofficial: i love her but she doesn’t follow @theblackbarsofficial

[conallblackbar]

closed starter for @maerieblackbar

"i have never asked you for a thing, maerie." the declaration was a true one. he had remained incredibly close to his brother and his wife, more so since the passing of his own bride, but he asked of them very little, beyond their love and their trust. "but i must make a request of you now."

and he reached into his pockets, pulling out a package, and then another, and another, until eight small parcels were lined on the table before them, wrapped neatly in different coloured cloth of varying hues, a rainbow of presents. "but i truly need you to stop having children." the request was delivered seriously, before con burst into laughter.

"maerie, my pockets just can't take it. i saw a spinning top at the mount market, and i thought oh, aisling would love that, so i had to get it. and then, well, i can't give a gift to aisling without buying for the rest, and roisin and fiadh are practically little women now, far too old to be bought with silly toys, so i had to get them jewellery. do you know the price of jewels these days?" he sighed, though his smile still remained. it was clear that of conall's problems in the world, spoiling his nieces was not amongst them, no matter how much he complained about it.

"share these out for me, will you? i've attached labels."

[briannabrackens]

who: @conallblackbar when and where: the niamh falls walk, roughly 3 miles from stone hedge's main keep. context: this was when cedric sent connie baby to the riverlands

the periodic spotlight of the sun and blue sky peeping through overcast grey clouds did little to defend against the natural elements of wind, light drizzle and the slight dip in temperature that came with the natural incline. "it's a good thing yer king sent you here though, ain't it? shows he be takin notice of you." and yet still, there was no better time for a ramble through the ancient surroundings of stone hedge than the current weather; cold enough to ensure some fresh air, but the walking ensured warmth.

"what do it mean to be an ambassador anyway? like, you need make sure our realms don't go to war?" was that even possible? she looked back at him, on the rock right behind her; her brows were furrowed at the prospect of their realms doing such a thing. "they'd not do such a thing...even if yer king ain't entirely accepted the queen."

beneath a checkered brown and green dress was a set of sturdy walking boots, the boots the servants used when ploughing the fields, and it were vital; lest they both find themselves slipping. since returning from kings landing, she had been desperate to go for walks such as this one again - following the path clover seemed to be laying out for them, she paid no mind to the squelch of her boots or the puddles she needed to step in.

"i don't get it, honestly. the men picked her, they crowned her. we did the whole thing, why is it the business of other kingdoms who the riverfolk want to lead us?" she asked, walking by some lavender in the backdrop as they continued to descend now. "it's not like the prince should have any crown upon his head. he's thick as pig shite."

they had both done this path before; so many a time. many of their closest friends and loved ones had, dotted distant figures moving from one rock to another - this time though, the second lord of house blackbar seemed to be her company. hardly peculiar, for it more often than not ended up being the two of them walking and talking slightly ahead or behind a larger group. "careful con, slippery rock there." she indicated, tapping the rock with the tip of her boot. "may be better to go round the one on the left."

she paused to take a breath, pushing back her hair. she should've plaited it to get it out her face, now it were knotty and tangled. she could hear the falls in the distance, and looked down at her mud covered boots.

[gessner-aldrovandi-et-amici]

Lagoon triggerfish from Marcus Elesier Bloch’s Ichthyologie ou, Histoire naturelle des poissons. Berlin 1796.

Source: Harvard University, Museum of Comparative Zoology, Ernst Mayr Library (online via Biodiversity Heritage Library: https://www.biodiversitylibrary.org/item/26748).

[halimayronwood]

closed starter for @butcherofbandallon

considering her own morals had long since been skewed, in favour of what suited halima and house yronwood best, there were a few things that provoked a strong sense of justice in halima. one of those things were theft. perhaps it was ironic, considering that was exactly what she was doing to house manwoody, snatching their home and their rights and any ounce of power they might seek to consolidate from under their nose, but that was different. of course it was.

different from the hand that dipped into the pocket of the man a few paces off, withdrawing with a coin purse clutched in grubby fingers. halima moved forward before the thief could make their escape, her own slim, but surprisingly strong fingers closing around their wrist, and marched them back to the lord they had stolen from.

"excuse me." her voice was as iron-tight as her grip on the wrist of the pickpocket. "i believe this cretin has something they wish to return to you."

she snatched the coin purse from their hand, offering it back to its rightful owner. she did not release the thief once it was returned, however. that was not her right to do. she was not the wronged party in this equation.

her eyes took in the lord before her. reach-born, perhaps? she should spit in his face for that alone, her opinion on those in the reach soured by their actions in the sea of dorne. "would you see him punished?" she asked, idly. her opinion on the man before would be entirely informed by his answer.

[lucius-rivers]

Reverse make the 8! Choose one person from each region to push off a cliff

“The Wylde widow, the Royce lord,” he began, naming the few he'd have no qualms in pushing to their deaths. The rest didn't really matter to him, they were just names that crossed his mind almost in a more coincidental way. “Lord Lefford and Lord Yronwood, perhaps. Lord Karstark, Lord Cargyll, Lord Bracken and the younger Lord Blackbar”.

( @wyldewillow, @mountainvroyce, @leolefford, @armaans, @wintervsuns, @garrick-cargyll, @ronanbrackens & @conallblackbar )

[rhea-florent]

truth serum: if you were not wed, who would you see as a suitable match for yourself?

The question was amusing because she saw it entirely as a futile, hypothetical exercise. “If I was not wed, I'd still turn to Harlon to make a good, honest woman out of me,” the Lady of Horn Hill stated playfully. In every scenario, she'd choose him again and again. But Rhea knew that was not what this person was asking. She puffed her cheeks and let out a breath, considering the alternatives. She couldn't decidedly say, for she was not drawn to others in the way she saw so entirely drawn by her husband. “I'd not stand anyone from the West or the Vale, and they sure all hells would not stand me. Perhaps someone of the clover folk, so we may at least have something in common? Or the Wild Bear, rest his soul, if he were still alive”.

( @harlonvflowers, @butcherofbandallon, @ronanbrackens & @rhydianwildbear )

[tronodiferro]

House Blackbar of Bandallon

GameOfThronesFanatic-Knjiga

[norbiegrafton]

closed starter for @butcherofbandallon

the bonfires crackled before them, the flames reflecting off the waters of the tumblestone. it was a merry night, but norbie sat stiffly. he had far preferred the atmosphere of the queen's ball, but having walked all the way here, he was feeling a little too lazy to make his way back to riverrun's keep.

still, he was not alone. somehow, he had found himself drawn into conversation with the reach's master of laws. he was a man with many friends in many places, but fewer in the reach than, for example, the crownlands and stormlands. there was seffora merryweather, and his own cousin, but beyond that, his contacts were slim. considering he would be spending some time there, conducting building work in highgarden, perhaps that was a situation that would in time be rectified.

"...but it was the vances who gave this land to the tullys," he was in the middle of explaining the history of the land riverrun sat upon. "it were the tullys sworn to them back then, rather than the other way around. this was after the mudds called themself the river kings, but before the ironborn drove them out."

he raised his cups to his lips and drank a little, before chuckling. "of course, they don't have to worry about such things, now. they have your lot to thank for that, don't they? the reach and the west."

[briannabrackens]

ronan bracken / fergus blackbar / @omerflorent​

ADELAIDE KANE as MARY STUART ↴ Love & Death ( 4x06 )

[i-give-you-a-fish]

trick or treat? 🐱👉👈

You get a Blackbar Filefish

Pervagor janthinosoma

[pochqmqri]

Blackeye thicklip, blackbarred, sixbarred, and moon wrasses on Fitzroy Island, QLD, Australia

[wyldewillow]

willow blackwood was stubborn and unyielding, she always had been. it was a trait often connected with the wyldes. “i only care about the appropriate retribution for murder ― and we both know what that is.” suicide or not, it did not change who was to blame. she had known abigail well, better than most of her siblings, and she knew her little sister would have never chosen that path unless she felt forced to tread it. and she was still not convinced conall had not pushed her down the stairs himself. she had heard the fight, she knew their marriage had been rocky. to her, it was plain to see that he had a hand in abigail's death somehow. that was enough for willow.

she did not know much of love, and what she did know of it was tenterhooks in flesh, a slow poison. love was a trap, and once caught in it, it was almost impossible to escape. love was no excuse to her, as she could easily imagine killing to finally be free of it. “love has left many dead and wounded in its wake, it is no defence.” she knew abigail had truly loved conall. she had seen it in her sister's eyes, but nothing could remain the same, and if conall had betrayed abigail, willow would not be surprised if that had led her down the path of ending her life. unfortunately for the blackbar lord, it meant he was still to blame for her death.

nothing conall said could change her mind about how the events had unfolded. she did not believe him for a second. “yes, i have heard she is a family friend, which only makes it that much worse.” he was not her chief concern, but she would find time to think of ways to make sure abigail's memory would never leave him be. he asked her if she was tired, but she only grinned in response. “no, not even close.” as long as willow could see her words having any sort of effect on him, she doubted she'd ever stop. if abigail's ghost could not haunt him, she would become a living ghost instead, a ruthless echo of the sister he had killed.

“you think you know of regret now, but one day you will know the true meaning of it.”

conall could not look at her - not because he could not believe what she was saying, or even out of anger, but out of shame and guilt. there were many things willow got wrong, but in this? he'd be lying if he said she wasn't completely accurate. she were not the only person in the realms who thought him a murderer. and that only enforced what he had long known - though there were a few who remained in his corner, kieran and gael and those who had known him long enough to know better, they were few and far between. for the most part, conall stood alone. he could not speak, could not even bring himself to lift his head.

until she spoke of justice, and then his head snapped up. he had been a poor husband, that much was true, but abigail herself had been no paragon of virtue. he could have made her happier, could have done more to keep his wife as sweet as she had been in the early years, but what justice could be done that was more than what he was doing to himself? "tell me, what's the appropriate retribution for suicide?" that was what he wholeheartedly believed had occurred that night, that deep in her cups, abigail had thrown herself down those blasted steps. that did not mean he was absolved of guilt, for if that were the case, it meant he had driven her to it. no crime was committed, but that did not mean he did not deserve the punishment willow wanted him to received. "i don't know," he admitted. "i loved her. you know that i loved her," he wasn't sure if she did, his voice taking on a pleading tone as he near begged her to believe him.

if he had hoped that would soften her approach, the illusion was shattered by what came from her mouth next. conall scoffed in his annoyance. "she's not my anything," he sounded almost annoyed. "except my kin. a cousin, or a sister, never a lover." he was tired of having to explain himself, over and over again. was she right? was he truly so close to death? some days, he felt like it, the shades of his past clinging to him as though he was already part of their world. "aren't you tired, lady blackwood? has this not gone on long enough?"