#tadhg talks

[live-from-flaturn]

Ngl DFF has been super triggering the last couple eps, so I'm gonna take a break til the show is all done and spoiled via safely filtered gifsets.

Plz do not tag me in ur DFF stuff!

Thank u for coming to my post.

#dff #personal #tadhg talks #ignore if you dont care #but also plz dont tag me in DFF things

[queer-coded-camaro-driver]

I landed a full time remote job with bennies so now I can get the Edgy Bisexual Undercut I've always wanted.

S o o n.

#tadhg talks #haircut #gender euphoria #non fine ary #imma be so hot #who wants to let me cup ur face between my palms

[klausie]

Hi! I’m Tadhg! And welcome to...

I’m a bisexual teenage boything! I'm disabled!

Please read my neocities (or carrd if you're in mobile) b4 following, as well as liking this so I know you saw it!

(more under cut)

If you see me posting about “childish” stuff, it’s because I genuinely like it!! I don’t age regress and I don’t like “kidcore” shit (although not against either!!), I’m just silly

The name is pronounced TAIG 

If we’re mutuals, I’d appreciate tagging mentions of people outside windows, shadow people, inanimate objects moving (as in like creepy dolls) with something along the lines of “t dont look” or “tadhg dont look”!! Pretty please and thank you!!

Anyone is free to tag me in almost anything!! If we’re friends you can tag me in tag games!! I love 2 play those!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[orangesand-lemons-234]

Was rereading the UKsies character sheets again and saw that Button's name, Tadhg, is a traditional Irish name, so I'd like to put forward the idea that in a crowd of all these kids with strong New York accents, Button's has a super thick Dublin one.

Buttons: Ya showre o' shites, stop acting the feckin' maggot and get outta yer bunks before I yank ya out meself!

Mike, whispering: Do youse know what he's spoutin' bout?

Splasher, already climbing out of his bed: Ise no idea, but I'd get out of bed if I were youse-

#literally none of the newsies know what hes waffling about when hes mad #but they get the point that hes pissed #i imagine it like that scene from wralph breaks the internet where merida starts talking and none of em know what shes saying #mike ike splasher jojo and race are most commonly called a showre of shites #basically just means fucking idiots #yknow #anyways theres your mini irish slang lesson #have a good day/afternoon/evening #newsies #uksies #newsies headcanons #buttons newsies #uksies headcanons #benjamin davenport #buttons davenport #tadhg mccarthy

[snap-my-kneecaps]

I see any post that mentions the word ‘buttons’ and my brain without hesitation goes ‘ah yes they must be talking about the rarely spoken about newsie from the musical newsies’

#there isn’t a single day where I do not think about buttons #i always forget that people never talk about him and just assume that everyone is as obsessed with him as I am #and therefor must be speaking about him #newsies #newsies musical #disneys newsies #newsies uk #london newsies #uksies #west endsies #buttons davenport #buttons newsies #buttons #benjamin davenport #tadhg mccarthy

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

The Candlemaker

Summary: “He might’ve lost it now, Ma’am.” The Quartermaster informed you with a nervous hiccup in his tone, not knowing that he was about to throw oil into the fire.

Pairing: Edward “Ned” Low x afab!Reader

Word Count: - 3.2k

Content Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat 18+!, Canon Compliant Violence, Explicit Descriptions Of Torture (Not Towards Reader!), Talk About Scars/Scarring

A/N: Massive thank you to @ohlookapan for relentlessly listening to my somewhat demented, somewhat horny rambles about musty pirate men from a show you know nothing about.

Tagging: @queer-crusader

When is a monster not a monster?

Oh, when you love it.

Oh, when you used to sing it to sleep.

- Caitlyn Siehl

Although the night had fallen hours ago, the air hung so thick and humid, clinging to your skin just like a thin layer of sweat that always accompanied you, that you felt like you were able to just slice it, cut through it with a fancy, Stirling silver butter knife.

“Why am I doing this to myself?” The rhetorical question dripped from your lips like a spill of oil, slow and laboured, as you hunched your back just slightly, leaning down to submerge your hands into a vat of piss-warm water that had once held the faint idea of being cold in the morning, however, it still brought you a direly needed sense of comfort.

Even warm water felt better to you than sweat, coaxed from your skin by hot and humid air. Regular water didn’t stink, didn’t stick to your fingers and temples in such a displeasing way…it just engulfed you, being kind enough to take the accumulated dirt off your palms simultaneously.

Exhaling a low hum, you gingerly splashed handfuls of wet up to your elbows, careful as to not soak the sleeves of your blouse. The comforting sensation lulled you in enough for you to zone out for a moment, eyes falling out of focus as you watched the surface wave and swap against the basin's brim. You basked in it, the brief moment where not a single thought flitted through your mind and you found yourself perfectly well entertained by the playful splashing of water. The breaking light distorted the image of your hands beneath the surface to the point that made them nearly look normal, painted in a sun-kissed tint just like they should look. However, you were all too aware that they didn’t and although your eyes weren’t fixed on them, you could see the bright welts of old scar tissue snaking along your fingers and wrists in wide lines. A nearly continuous streak of pale and sensitive skin that still told about unimaginable pains you’d been subjected to by a particularly gruesome British officer years before you’d set up shop in Nassau.

Before getting way lost in musings of times long past, you redirected your attention to the nice feeling the water against skin created. Maybe you should just pour yourself an entire tub of water and lie down in there for the night; chances that you found some sleep certainly higher than in your bed surrounded by thin linen blankets and dusty velvet pillows.

What violently pulled you back into your own head was a stern knocking at your workshop's door downstairs. The sudden noise caused you to crinkle your nose and arch your brows in an uncomfortable flinch and at first you didn’t even consider answering it until it got repeated.

“A moment, please!”, You yelled loud enough for it to echo through drawn curtains onto the street before pulling your hands from the puddle of water and shaking the wetness from your wrists, “It’s 2a.m, I reckon you don’t come to buy candles, do you?”

“Mr. Holmes?” The familiar face of a man in his early 30s, features framed with an unkempt copper beard, looked right at you with a faint smile, feigning a modicum of decency and trying to hide the discomfort he was carrying in his chest after you’d swung the wooden door open.

“Mrs. Low, please excuse this disturbance at such an unsavory time. Just hours ago we returned to Port Nassau and I assume the Captain hasn’t been with you yet?” The red-haired man stammered clumsily, his eyes averting yours as politely as he possibly could.

“Correct. So much so, that I wasn't even aware the Fancy was back in the Port, Mr. Holmes. Now, what is there that you need from me at 2 in the morning?” You watched him pursing his lips in an awkward movement.

“We, uhm, we might be having a situation at camp.” The just recently appointed Quartermaster shrugged his shoulders.

“A situation? And what kind of situation might that be, Mr. Homes?” You inquired with spiked curiosity, interest thoroughly peaked by your husband's fellow crewmate showing up at your doorstep at this peculiar time of night.

“He might’ve lost it now, Ma’am.” The Quartermaster’s informal comment came so straightforward that it made you snort out in amusement.

“What’s Ned doing? Dancing naked at the beach?” Words failed to convey the comedic relief you wanted Mr. Holmes to experience since his posture turned more rigid by the second.

“Not exactly, no, Ma’am, I believe you might want to see it with your own eyes.” He pointed his head towards the street that led down to the harbor.

“Sure.”, You sighed, instinctively fastening the heavy leather holsters that dangled from the wide belt resting on your hips, “Please, go ahead.”

Mr. Holmes practically jumped at your request to lead the way, immediately turning to haste down the dirt road with you following suit, wondering what exactly was important or more likely unhinged enough to get you involved in things Edward and you tried to keep as separate as possible.

“Mr. Holmes, do you think it possible to enlighten me a bit about the nature of this nightly endeavor?” You quipped, a sense of amusement and curiosity inspiring your steps to come lightly, feathery almost.

“The Captain appears to be in a particularly foul mood today, Ma’am. We were supposed to anchor sooner, however, some quarrels within the crew delayed very much that.”, The man walking in front of you turned his head over his shoulder to answer to you in a lowered voice.

“Quarrels about what?” You’re brows arched up again, mind still wondering what might’ve pissed Edward off to a degree his crew felt like they couldn’t handle their own Captain anymore.

“The cook.” Mr. Holmes stated, not being able to hide the extensive rolling of his eyes from you.

“The cook?!” He nodded at you, shrugging his shoulders anew.

“Some men wanted to eat before setting course towards the harbor and others did not, impatient about getting to shore as soon as possible… most namely of those Mr. Low.” Both of you slowed down as the path between the houses turned rather steep.

“So? His ship, his crew, his decision, no?”, You couldn’t really fathom how a bicker over dinner could cause an uproar amongst grown men, “Nobody’s going to wither because of a missed meal.”

“Truly not, Mrs. Low, nonetheless, the cook and a not quite insignificant amount of men started cooking, effectively slowing the entire agenda down.” The Quartermaster's explanation pieced the puzzle together, making you sigh into the night.

“The cook’s fucked.”, Knowing the whims of your husband, the harsh statement was easy to utter, “Was his food any good, at least?”

Mr. Holmes shook his head, his upper lip twitching lightly as he briefly mused about the culinary selection on board the Fancy.

“Already hanging on by a thread then, hm?” Getting gradually closer to the shoreline, you picked up your pace, already seeing the torches and fire spots drenching the beach in flaming orange flickers.

“Doomed from the start one might wager.” The Quartermaster’s voice called after you as you passed him by in wide and swift steps, nearly jogging toward a bustling campsite.

The still warm sand creaked and crumpled underneath the thin soles of your sandals, making you wish you’d taken the time to step in a pair of proper boots as the grains got everywhere from between your toes to scratching against the bottom of your feet. However, you tried to ignore the mildly annoying sensation since much more pressing matters awaited right ahead.

“No, no, nonono, please. I beg of you, Mr. Low, Captain, please-” The muffled sobs of the poor soul who must’ve been the cook in question echoed right through the pile of people standing closely jostled in a half-circle.

It needed quite the amount of determination to squeeze yourself through the gathering of sweaty, dirty skin and equally rancid clothes, causing heads to turn to you whilst doing so.

“Mr. Hillock, Blake, can I call you Blake, hm?”, Your stomach did a little flip upon hearing your husband's voice for the first time in weeks, making the corners of your lips tug upwards just as well, “You possessed the audacity to act on your own behalf and against my request, my demand, my authority, Blake.”

In the very moment, you’d pushed yourself up to the first row of spectators, your gaze fell onto Mr. Hillock who cowered in the sand, tears, and snot running down his jaw as he stammered his words and panicked excuses, a truly pathetic display of thrashing regret caused by severely wrong decisions.

“Miss Landrake?” Of course, you’d been noticed right away and it had only been a matter of moments until someone opened up his mouth about it.

Landrake, you flinched a tiny bit upon hearing your maiden name, the one you used to keep the facade alive and the red coats in the utmost literal sense at bay.

“Who?”, One of the crew members spat before another one jumped in to answer, “Miss Landrake the candlemaker, you dense fuck?”

You tried to stifle your own laughter but couldn’t hold it back as you heard quite a few of the men snorting in amusement. Knowing that the overall attention had rapidly shifted toward you now, you couldn’t ride the edge of anticipation any longer for it buzzed away in your stomach with such intensity that you tethered on the threshold of throwing up in excitement; your eyes searched for Edward’s, who was towering above the sobbing and sniffling cook, a scrunched up cut of rope dangling from his hand.

You knew what he was about to do, no need for it to be uttered out aloud, and just the thought of watching this kind of very exquisite spectacle had your lips twitching whilst you tried to keep your expression as neutral as possible. Only very few of his men knew about your much more intimate connection with one another and for the moment, you just exchanged glances; some telling about quiet happiness and some searching for something to find purchase on how to go about this possible, rather brusque outing.

“Mr. Homes requested for my presence.” You explained to the mumbling and whispering crowd.

“And why would my dear Quatermaster do that?” Edward looked right at you, his good eye and the glass one staring right through you alike, as he fought himself to suppress a grin.

“Because…”, Said Mr. Holmes caught up to the scenery, palms pressed to his thighs as he gasped for air, “Be-cause… Ned, this is unreasonable and you know it as well as I do. I believe the highly valued opinion of Mrs. Low might hammer some sense back into your terribly thick skull.”

Immediately, the formerly somewhat quiet whispers broke into widespread murmuring.

“Hold on, he just said that’s Miss Landrake, from the candle shop.”, Jonathan, one of the newer members and presumably a few sandwiches short of a picnic exclaimed his confusion loudly, “That don’t make no sense now!”

“There’s a Mrs. Low?!” Another one hollered and the tall brute right behind you shoved hard enough against your shoulders for you to stumble into the inner circle. Well, there went the already fragile play pretend for good this time.

“Easy now, Mr. Matthews”, The moment your statue had started swaying, Edward pulled his heavy flintlock pistol at the gruff man, “Wouldn’t wan’ta waste a perfectly good bullet on you of all people.”

“Aye…” Mr. Matthews, who you weren't much familiar with, huffed behind you and took a step back, hands raised in a calming gesture.

“Good, now… since Mr. Holmes is so invested in de-escalation, why don’t we leave it to the Missus then?” Your husband waited for a reaction from his crew and after one of the men already had a pistol being pulled on him, nobody dared to boo at the suggestion.

“Ah, yes, the sound of democracy.”, Ned bellowed an erratic laugh into the cooling shore breeze upon putting the gun back into its holster, “Civilization, truly.”

The poor cook’s eyes shot right to you, expression pleading and a mouth that started to run a hundred knots an hour begging unto you for forgiveness.

“Please, please, Madame, you have to hear me out, please, I beg of you this is all just one big misunderstanding.” He rambled in between broken wails and sniffled cries but you paid it no interest.

You knew Mr. Hillock had chosen his fate the very second he’d stoked that tiny stove on board and started cooking against his Captain’s orders. If Edward’s mind was set on one thing, be it arriving at shore on his preferred schedule, he had to realize it without any minuscule alteration, and any change of plan was set to face his wrath, and wrath he dealt plenty.

“Save that breath.” You shushed him sharply, slowly walking over to your husband who traced your every move with his good eye.

He was watching, observing you, pondering whether or not you’d join in on the mayhem, ready to act in understanding for both outcomes. He sure loved when you did and this truly fine opportunity to prove your stand in this hierarchy of violent men practically left you salivating, plated on a silver dish like that.

“My god, Ned, that’s old wax, will hardly do you any good. See how that’s just flaking off!”, Letting your sly grin shine through eventually, you took the cut of rope from his grasp, allowing the rough yet partially greasy material to run through your examining touch a few times, “Let me fix that.”

What kind of incompetent candlemaker would you be without having some of your tools on your person at all times? They certainly came in handy in many a situation.

Eyeing the poorly soaked rope with pursed lips, you pulled a block of softly reddish wax from the leather purse on your wide, corset-imitating belt. The palm-sized pebble of soft-to-the-touch and lightly scented wax hailed freshly from the latest batch, commissioned by Mrs. Mapleton to illuminate and tenderly fragrance the brothel near the Port.

Although you found yourself well aware of the plenty pairs of eyes resting upon you, you took your time with the rope, letting it grate and chafe against the wax until every last fiber clung together, and in-between spaces were closed with a greasy film of rosy red.

“Here we go, that’ll burn proper!” Satisfied with your work, you slipped the wax pebble back into the purse and crouched to be eye-to-eye with Mr. Hillock, who was shaking and trembling in his sweat-stained linen shirt.

“You see, Blake, I’m inconsolable but I can’t help you here.”, You grasped at his already bound hands, starting to wrap the waxed rope around his wrists and through his fingers like your personal work of art, “From time to time, I do treat myself to the delicious thrill of talking back at my husband but you need to understand that I am in the position to do that and you, dearest Blake, are very much not.”

From the corner of your eye, you recognized Ned staring down at you, face beaming in a twisted and delightfully wretched sense of unfiltered adoration. You’d do everything and anything for one another, and scenes like those left no doubt about it.

“If Ned commands you to put down the potato knife because he wants to anchor at the Port, what do you do?” Your stare drilled itself into Mr. Hillock’s watery glazed eyes, fueling the terror thrashing in his ribcage.

“Did… did he do that t’you?”, He sniffled breathlessly, yet, the quiet uttering caught you off guard, “Did he do it? Fucking monster burn’d your pretty hands?”

For a brief moment, the crowd fell dead quiet, only the flames licking at damp wood crackling amongst the tense gathering.

“How dare you look at my hands with your filthy eyes?!” The words left your mouth in a cutting, shrill shriek that had some of Ned’s men flinching in shock, Blake shaking before you, whereas Edward’s demented grin only spread.

“Let’s try that again, Blake, shall we?”, Picking up on your hand gesturing to the side, Ned handed you one of the torches and you allowed the brightly hot flame to dance right onto the prepped rope, the layer of wax fueling it immediately, “What do you do when Ned commands you to put the knife down, hm?!”

At first, Mr. Hillock tried to shake his incapacitated hands vigorously for the rapidly spreading flame to die just as quickly but instead, the movement only fed it with more oxygen, making it all the worse for him. He screamed and wailed as the heat started to eat at the back of his hands first. You heard it; flesh burning, the low sizzle being carried to your ear by the salty breeze of the sea amongst Blake’s broken cries.

“Come on now, stay with me here!”, In an attempt to pull him back to the question you’d asked, you served the entire side of his face a firm smack, “That’ll all be over the very moment you answer to me.”

The slap pulled a wash of tears to gush from Mr. Hillock’s eyes but none of them led you to feel just the slightest hint of remorse or pity for subjecting him to this suffering. He disobeyed, he deserved punishment; the rules were simple, idiot-proof even.

“I.. I-”, Blake brabbled through snod, tears and drool dripping from a quivering bottom lip, “I- hmnnng, I putitdown! Dow’ !”

“There we go!”, You cheered, throwing your arms into the air before standing back up, pulling the brutalized cook with you, “Go on, make a run for it!”

You pushed him towards the shoreline, suggesting him to dash for the saving grace of softly rolling waves.

As you, alongside the crew and Edward, watched Blake stumble through the sand, a yawn slipped past your lips and you let your shoulders hang slack, a rush of exhaustion taking you by storm.

“Now that this matter is settled, I would prefer to excuse myself to the comfort of my own home again, gentlemen.”, You turned your head in the direction of Mr. Holmes, his expression clearly telling you about having lost all his admiration in exchange for gaining future compliance through plain fear.

He nodded quickly and so did the crew.

“And you might want to hurry or I’ll lock the door.” You threw at Ned accompanied by a sly smile before waving the bunch goodbye and turning on your heels to make your way back home, leaving the crowd to stand in in the sand, staring at each other in brutal silence.

#black sails #black sails fanfic #ned low #edward low #edward “ned” low #ned low x reader #ned low x you #tadhg murphy #hello and welcome on another episode of tam being hung up on characters nobody talks about 🥲

[disast3rtransp0rt]

Cool things about hEDS: When I was undiagnosed I got to work at a circus.

Sucky things about hEDS: My jaw just dislocated because Animal Cracker Too Crunchy, and now it hurts.

#tadhg talks to themself #heds #ehlers danlos

[chrisflemingslegs]

Everything hurts both physically and existentially. So if you need me I will be laying facedown in the woods, slowly but happily getting consumed by moss.

#screaming into the void #rant #tadhg talks to themself #bad day #sorry #oh bb we are feeling Not Good

[unfortunate-arrow]

🖊 for Tadhg?

— Tadhg was never big on physical affection. He gets more comfortable with it the closer he becomes with his buds, but hugging is still a touch awkward. Of course, it’s less awkward than the first ones and are less awkward when initiated by someone other than Tadhg. For him, though, the most comfortable is an arm around the shoulders.

Send me a “🖊+an OC“ and I will talk about that OC!

#tadhg lynch #hp victorian era #hp legacy era #🖊️ ask game #there’s an incorrect quote i found where it’s talking about hugs & one says like“he hugged me but it was like he was reaching for something #and he replied with “both” & another said “our 1st hug was so awkward that we didn’t make eye contact for a week” #and that just screamed teddy & gabriel talking about tadhg

[searchingforglendowerwithleah]

The Raven Boys Rizz Ranked

6. That one cray guy who tried to seduce his crush by kidnapping his crushes little brother and stuffing him into a car which is suprisingly not effective. Heard he died which is kinda awkies.

5. In almost dead last is ironically everyone’s favourite evader of death. You guessed right! Gansey boy!!! Reading through his first interaction with Blue was so painful I almost permanently died. However, credit were credit is due because he did somehow get with her at the end but he is just lucky Blue is deadsexual.

4. Ronan - bless his heart he tried but fuck is he embarrassing to watch sometimes. I’m not even going to detail all of the second hand embarrassment I had watching him flirt. But hey at least he didn’t call his crush a prostitute and then try and set them up with his bestie because of his saviour complex and crippling lack of self worth. Also his lil gifts were so sweet like A+ for effort.

3. The bisexual king himself Adam Parrish who could pull anybody in Henrietta with complete and utter ease. His only downfall is being kinda creepy being possessed by a forest and all but you know what some people find that hot (not me of course …). ALSO CAN WE TALK ABOUT ADAM IN A LEATHER JACKET BECAUSE WE DON’T TALK ABOUT THAT ENOUGH. Also you know the line in call down the hawk where he was like I need to take off your clothes!!! Damn he is kind of being robbed at 3rd.

2. My husband and everyone’s favourite man whore DECLAN TADHG LYNCH. My boy pulled 3 Ashley’s is a row and the goddess that is Jordan and he had me giggling at every single turn. Nothing is more seductive than a plain white guy with stomach issues and an art kink. Everyone hated you because they weren’t you and that’s why all of the bitches who slut shamed him *cough*Gansey*cough*Adam*cough*Ronan *cough* are ranked lower than him. Also his murder spree in Greywaren is the sexiest scene ever written, you cannot argue me on this. PSA: before anyone comes with for me for putting him above Adam just remember there is textual evidence of Adam literally learning to flirt off of Declan after observing him in trb. HE WAS THE TRENDSETTER.

1. Noah - Sometimes being creepy and dead can have it’s benefits. He saw his opportunity to kiss Blue and he fucking ran with it. He really said I know someone you could kiss 🤭 and I admire that confidence which I firmly believe makes him extremely deserving of 1st place. The ability to pull bitches whilst literally decomposing is quite frankly unbeatable.

#i said what i said #sorry I didn’t do everyone I was feeling lazy but just know my girly blue would have fucking trumped everyone #joseph kavinsky #gansey #ronan lynch #declan lynch #adam parrish #noah czerny #trc #the raven cycle #maggie stiefvater #the raven boys #the dreamers trilogy #tdt #pynch #bluesey #jordeclan #noah czerny deserved better

[a-man-for-hire-and-his-archives]

Here’s Why Everyone Is Talking About A Pirate Drama That Ended In 2017

Black Sails has been described as Game of Thrones with pirates

If Black Sails kicked off in 2020 instead of 2014, it certainly would have thrown fuel on the raging fire that was TikTok’s sea shanty obsession. The reality is that this TV series aired on Starz from 2014 for four seasons, coming to a close in 2017. So why is everyone talking about it now, a decade after it began?

Black Sails is coming to Netflix very soon, triggering its fans to emerge from the woodwork and promote the show online. ‘I am SO excited for people who’ll be watching this show for the first time,’ one user wrote, with many others recommending the series to fans of Game of Thrones. With House of the Dragon still a few months away, here’s why you should tune into Black Sails this month.

New To Netflix: Black Sails

What Is Black Sails About?

Black Sails transports us back to 1715 – aka the Golden Age of Piracy. Set in New Providence, an island in the Bahamas, we meet the feared Captain Flint (Toby Stephens) who brings a new younger crew member into the fold (‘Long’ John Silver, played by Luke Arnold) as his crew continues to fight for survival and negotiate their space on the island.

Is Black Sails Based On A Book?

Black Sails was written as a prequel to Robert Louis Stevenson’s classic novel, Treasure Island (1883).

Is It Based On A True Story?

While Black Sails isn’t based on a true story, it does trace real events. The first season focuses on the hunt for the Spanish treasure galleon Urca de Lima, a real ship that sank in 1715 near Fort Pierce in Florida (where it still lies). Season two traces the fallout of Urca de Lima’s treasure being stranded in Florida, strictly guarded by Spanish soldiers while pirates prowl the shores. The subsequent third and fourth seasons then look at the war for the control of New Providence between the pirates and the British Empire – a la Pirates of the Caribbean.

Likewise, some of the characters are based on real people. Real pirates fictionalised in the show include:

Blackbeard (Ray Stevenson)

Anne Bonny (Clara Paget)

Benjamin Hornigold (Hakeem Kae-Kazim)

Jack Rackham (Toby Schmitz)

Charles Vane (Zach McGowan)

Ned Low (Tadhg Murphy)

Israel Hands (David Wilmot)

Meanwhile, Captain Woodes Rogers (Luke Roberts) – who represents the British Empire in seasons three and four – is based on a real English sea captain and slave trader, and subsequently the first Royal Governor of the Bahamas.

Was Captain Flint A Real Pirate?

Captain Flint is a fictional character who was first created by Robert Louis Stevenson in Treasure Island. He has since appeared in multiple works of fiction, including A. D. Howden Smith’s Porto Bello Gold (1924), John Drake’s Flint and Silver (2008), Pieces of Eight (2009) and Skull and Bones (2010), and J. M. Barrie’s Peter and Wendy (1904).

Where Was Black Sails Filmed?

Black Sails was filmed in Cape Town, South Africa, mainly inside at Cape Town Film Studio. Because the real city is so different today than it was in the 1700s, Nassau – the capital of the Bahamas, located on New Providence island – was built from scratch in a studio over a period of four months, as were two large water tanks to house the series’ two ships. Some scenes were filmed outside in and around Cape Town when new terrain was required, but most of the series was filmed on set.

The Cast

The cast of Black Sails is incredibly large, but key characters to know include:

Toby Stephens as James McGraw/Captain Flint

Hannah New as Eleanor Guthrie

Luke Arnold as ‘Long’ John Silver

Jessica Parker Kennedy as Max

Tom Hopper as William ‘Billy Bones’ Manderly

Zach McGowan as Charles Vane

Toby Schmitz as Jack Rackham

Clara Paget as Anne Bonny

Mark Ryan as Hal Gates

Hakeem Kae-Kazim as Mr. Scott

Sean Cameron Michael as Richard Guthrie

Louise Barnes as Miranda Hamilton/Barlow

Rupert Penry-Jones as Thomas Hamilton

Luke Roberts as Woodes Rogers

Ray Stevenson as Edward Teach

David Wilmot as Israel Hands

Harriet Walter as Marion Guthrie

The Trailer

Interested? Here’s the trailer for a taste of the action.

WATCH

All episodes of Black Sails are streaming on Netflix from 17 April 2024.

Source: Country & Town House

#black sails #black sails on netflix #luke arnold #tom hoppers #jessica parker kennedy #clara paget #toby schmitz #zach mcgowan #luke robert jr #hannah new #hakim kae kazim #louise barnes #nick boraine #rupert penry jones #ray stevenson #david wilmot #sean cameron michael #Youtube

[live-from-flaturn]

IN THE NAME OF THE MOON!

Thank you to the boytoy for getting us tickets, and thank you to Robbie Daymond for being the sweetest celebrity ever. I appreciated the "girls' night" joke when I instinctually half-crouched for our group photo and the compliment on my shirt.

To @shou-jpeg Robbie says: "YES! This comic is so cool and the style is adorable! I love it!!"

#sailor moon #tuxedo mask #robbie daymond #me #tadhg talks to themself #kimchay

[queer-coded-camaro-driver]

My boyfriend has been shocked to learn that Martin Short is, in fact, heterosexual. He’s sitting on the opposite end of the couch, furiously reading Wikipedia, muttering: “There’s no way this man is straight. There’s just- There’s no way.”

I am barely holding onto my poker face.

#the boytoy #tadhg talks #me #personal #martin short?? i guess?? #how is this surprising!? #'but he's such a twink in everything!!!' #nathan please #baby #wh-why??

[klausie]

tch

sorry. do you hat me

#tadhg talks

[ceilidho]

is the gladiator au ghoap (coded) or ghoap x trader

it's ghost/reader coded :))) i was actually talking about this with my friend last night and originally it started off as Ghost, so physically he looks a lot like Ghost. but then i started writing him and his dialogue and actually, he's morphed into a kind of ghost/soap mix - like he has elements of Ghost's efficiency and aloofness, but he also has the frenetic energy that i've come to associate with Soap and an inability to shut his yap when he finally gets going lmaoooo

and since he's from the north and was brought to Rome, im toying with names now :)) it's either going to be Tadhg (pronounced Tieg) or Cian (Kyeen)

[gaunt-and-hungry]

entirely anonymous user here. that tadgh x reader fic was good.... perhaps could u...... write a little fluff, maybe...... for nobody in particular

You bet I can! Warm Clothes Tadgh Conneely x Reader Fluff

Rains would pelt the windows in the late evenings; the chill of such tides never worried you. You knew Tadgh would be back and perfectly sound. Always punctual that door opened up and he shuffled inside. Damp. Just damp. Never soaking wet. But always a little cold. He never stopped you from undressing him and helping him redress in something dry and warm, hanging his wet things in front of the fire. The way he smiled was like he had either been caught doing something embarrassing or like he had lost himself in the world of awe and adoration. You had pushed a cup of tea into Tadgh’s hands. He shared that moment, clutching yours and his together over the mug, his dark gaze watching you intently, closely as he uttered his warm and low “Thank you,” and pressed a warm and tender kiss to your cheek with still cold lips. They did not stay that way for long, heated by the blush that crept into your face. It sent a jittery joy skittering through your body. And that smile came, knowing how pleased he made you. 

You both settled in front of the fire, the pattering of rain like the gentle taps of something trying to get into the warmth and security of the cottage. He allowed you the length of his body, arms coveting you like something precious when he did not have his hands occupied with the mug of tea. He would talk about some local story, a tale of something or another or the gossip of the other families sometimes, though he preferred to talk about the stories of the sea and the water, the things that made their homes there. It was like a settling anchor, nestled deep in the silt below as you listened to him regale stories and folklore, the amber flames of the fire warming your bodies. His steady breathing and the feeling of his lungs inhaling and exhaling, the rumble of his chest and the steady tick of his heart. You were safe there. Safer than you’d ever been, settled comfortable in the warning evening against the sturdy warmth of Tadhg Conneely.

#tadgh conneely x reader #the secret of roan inish #reader insert #fluff #I had gone to bed. So this is a tad late! #But an utter delight to write nonetheless! #Do enjoy!