Roberto Cuoghi
Pirate Terms and Phrases
-> Pirate Lingo
-> A Pirate's Glossary
Batten Down The Hatches - tie everything down and put stuff away for a coming storm.
Brig - a prison on a ship.
Bring a Spring Upon 'er - turn the ship in a different direction
Broadside - the most vulnerable angle of a ship that runs the length of the boat.
Cutlass - a thick, heavy and rather short sword blade.
Dance with Jack Ketch - to hang; death at the hands of the law (Jack Ketch was a famed English executioner).
Davy Jones's Locker - a mythical place at the bottom of the ocean where drowned sailors are said to go.
Dead Men Tell No Tales - the reason given for leaving no survivors.
Flogging - severe beating of a person.
Gangplank - removable ramp between the pier and ship.
Give No Quarter - show no mercy.
Jack - flag flown at the front of the ship to show nationality.
Jolly Roger - black pirate flag with a white skull and crossbones.
Keelhaul - a punishment where someone is dragged under the ship. They are cut by the planks and barnacles on the bottom of the ship.
Landlubber - an inexperienced or clumsy person who doesn't have any sailing skills.
Letters of Marque - government-issued letters allowing privateers the right to piracy of another ship during wartime.
Man-O-War - a pirate ship that is decked out and prepared for battle.
Maroon - to leave someone stranded on a. deserted island with no supplies, typically a punishment for any crew members who disrespected the captain.
Mutiny - a situation in which the crew chooses a new captain, sometimes by forcibly removing the old one.
No Prey, No Pay - a common pirate law that meant crew members were not paid, but rather received a share of whatever loot was taken.
Old Salt - experienced pirate or sailor.
Pillage - to steal/rob a place using violence.
Powder Monkeys - men that performed the most dangerous work on the ship. They were treated harshly, rarely paid, and were expendable.
Privateer - government-appointed pirates.
Run A Shot Across the Bow - fire a warning shot at another boat's Captain.
Scurvy - a disease caused by Vitamin C Deficiency.
Sea Legs - when a sailor adjusts his balance from riding on a boat for a long time.
Strike Colors - lower a ship's flag to indicate surrender.
Weigh Anchor and Hoist the Mizzen - an order to the crew to pull up the anchor and get the ship sailing.
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Reblog for greater sample size.
I made these as a way to compile all the geographical vocabulary that I thought was useful and interesting for writers. Some descriptors share categories, and some are simplified, but for the most part everything is in its proper place. Not all the words are as useable as others, and some might take tricky wording to pull off, but I hope these prove useful to all you writers out there!
(save the images to zoom in on the pics)
"Show, don’t tell" means letting readers experience a story through actions, senses, and dialogue instead of outright explaining things. Here are some practical tips to achieve that:
Tell: "The room was cold."
Show: "Her breath puffed in faint clouds, and she shivered as frost clung to the edges of the window."
Tell: "He was scared."
Show: "His hands trembled, and his heart thudded so loudly he was sure they could hear it too."
Tell: "She was angry."
Show: "She slammed the mug onto the counter, coffee sloshing over the rim as her jaw clenched."
Tell: "He was exhausted."
Show: "He stumbled through the door, collapsing onto the couch without even bothering to remove his shoes."
What characters say and how they say it can reveal their emotions, intentions, or traits.
Tell: "She was worried about the storm."
Show: "Do you think it'll reach us?" she asked, her voice tight, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt.
Tell: "He was jealous of his friend."
Show: "As his friend held up the trophy, he forced a smile, swallowing the bitter lump rising in his throat."
Use the setting to mirror or hint at emotions or themes.
Tell: "The town was eerie."
Show: "Empty streets stretched into the mist, and the only sound was the faint creak of a weathered sign swinging in the wind."
Give enough clues for the reader to piece things together without spelling it out.
Tell: "The man was a thief."
Show: "He moved through the crowd, fingers brushing pockets, his hand darting away with a glint of gold."
What’s left unsaid can reveal as much as what’s spoken.
Tell: "They were uncomfortable around each other."
Show: "He avoided her eyes, pretending to study the painting on the wall. She smoothed her dress for the third time, her fingers fumbling with the hem."
Use metaphors, similes, or comparisons to make an emotion or situation vivid.
Tell: "The mountain was huge."
Show: "The mountain loomed above them, its peak disappearing into the clouds, as if it pierced the heavens."
Tell: "The village had been destroyed by the fire."
Show: "Charred beams jutted from the rubble like broken ribs, the acrid smell of ash lingering in the air. A child's shoe lay half-buried in the soot, its leather curled from the heat."
I love you rainbow hair I love you red eyes I love you heterochromia I love you eye scars I love you demon/angel hybrids I love you “cringey” OC’s I love you Mary Sues I love you self-inserts I love you wings and tails and horns and sharp teeth I love you people who just want to create and make stuff that makes them happy
craving the kind of intimacy that requires surgical tools
Hot take: Hater culture is just cringe culture in a different trench coat.
“I love being a hater u3u” No you love being a pedantic little shit who takes the enjoyment out of everything and makes people feel bad for liking anything.
What makes “being a hater” so fucking annoying isn’t even the negativity, it’s that it makes everything fucking boring. What, something has to be flawless to be good? Get fucked. I hate that kind of mindset, that just because something has its issues that it’s fine to dismiss everything it does right. Chronic “Hating” strips everything of its individuality and demands conformity, because how dare this thing be something I don’t enjoy! How dare there be flaws!
And don’t even get me started on how half of the “flaws” they point out aren’t even fucking flaws, and are just not conventional.
It’s also fucking annoying how this kind of mindset crawled into fandom spaces. That’s also why, in my opinion, it got this rebrand, because “cringe” in itself is kind of a fandom-esque term. It’s just a bunch of bitter idiots getting lost and finding themselves in fandom spaces somehow, only to point at everything and going “Oh my GOD, do you UNIRONICALLY like that??”
It’s the same shit over again, where something is only “allowed” to be enjoyed through like, seven layers of irony. It’s pathetic. Fuckos, it’s fine to acknowledge that something has flaws and still like it. At least fucking stand for it.
I didn’t want to acknowledge how fandom in general has deteriorated because of these insecure, bitter idiots invading spaces made for enjoying something unconventional safely, but fuck, I miss the old times. They weren’t fucking perfect, but at least there wasn’t some whiny rat around every corner screeching about how liking something is bad unless you do it at a mental and emotional distance.
Fuck haters. Fuck cringe culture. Fuck all the people who say shit like “love being a hater uwu” and “being bullying back”. Sort out your own fucking issues. Grow up.
DUNGEONS & DRAGONS: HONOR AMONG THIEVES 2023, dir. Jonathan Goldstein & John Francis Dale
Bonus:
ur in her dms im decomposing in her chest freezer that blew its fuse three weeks ago n she didnt notice
The Devil’s Wheel
“If you say yes,” said the Devil, “a single man, somewhere in the world, will be killed on the spot. But three million dollars is nothing to sneeze at, missus.”
“What’s the catch?” You squint at him suspiciously over the red-and-black striped carnival booth. You’re smarter than he thinks you are– a devil deal always has a catch, and you’re determined to catch him before he catches you.
“Well, the catch is that you’ll know you did it. And I’ll know, too. And the big man upstairs’ll know, I ‘spose. But what’s the chariot of salvation without a little sin to grease the wheels? You can repent from your mansion balcony, looking out at your waterfront views, sipping a bellini in your eighties. But hey, it’s up to you– take my deal or leave it.”
The Devil lights a cigar without a match, taking an inhale, and blowing out a cloud of deep, sweet-smelling tobacco laced faintly with something that reminds you of rotten eggs. If he does have horns, they’re hidden under his lemon yellow carnival barker hat. He wears a clean pinstripe suit and a red bowtie. No cloven hooves, no big pointy fork, but you know he’s the Devil without having to be told. Though he did introduce himself.
He’s been perfectly polite.
You know you need the money. He knows it too, or he wouldn’t have brought you here, to this strange dark room, whisking you away from your new house in the suburbs as fast as a wish. Now you’re in some sort of warehouse, where all the windows seem to be blacked out– or, maybe, they simply look out into pitch darkness, though it is the middle of the day. A single white spotlight shines down on the two of you.
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” you say. “I bet the man is someone I know, right? My husband?”
“Could be,” the Devil says with a pointed grin. “That’s for the wheel to decide.”
He steps back and raises his black-gloved hand as the tarp flies off of the large veiled object behind him. The light of the carnival wheel nearly blinds you. Blinking lights line the sides. Jingling music blares over speakers you can’t see. The flickering sign above it reads:
THE DEVIL’S WHEEL
“Step right up and claim your fortune,” the Devil barks. “Spin the wheel and pay the price! Or leave now, and a man keeps his life.”
You examine the wheel.
The gambling addict
The doting boyfriend
The escaped convict
The dog dad
The secretive sadist
“These are all the possible men I can kill?” You ask, thumbing the side of the wheel. It rolls smoothly in your hand. Then you quickly stop, realizing that this might constitute a spin under the Devil’s rules. He flashes a smile at you, watching you halt its motion.
“Addicts, convicts, murderers– plenty of terrible options for you to land on, missus!”
“Serial wife murderer?”
“Now who would miss a fellow like that? I can guarantee that the whole world would be better off without him in it, and that’s a fact.”
The hard worker
The compulsive liar
The animal torturer
The widower
The desperate businessman
The failed musician
The beloved son
“My husband is on here too,” you say.
“Your husband Dave, yes. The wheel has to be fair, otherwise there’s simply no stakes.”
“I know what’s gonna happen,” you say, crossing your arms. “This wheel is rigged. I’m gonna spin it around, and it’ll go through all the killers and stuff, and then it’s gonna land on my husband no matter what.”
“Why, I would never disgrace the wheel that way,” the Devil says, wounded. “I swear on my own mother’s grave– may she never escape it. In fact, take one free spin, just to test it out! This one’s on me, no death, no dollars.”
You cautiously reach up to the top of the wheel and feel its heaviness in your hand. The weight of hundreds of lives. But also, millions of dollars. You pull the wheel down and let it go.
Clackity-clackity-clackity-clackity
Round and round it goes.
The college graduate
The hockey fan
The Eagle Scout
The cold older brother
The charming younger brother
The two-faced middle child
The perfectionist
The slob
Your husband Dave
Clackity-clackity-clackity.
Finally, the wheel lands on a name. A title, really.
The photographer
“Hmm, tough, missus, but that’s the way of the wheel. But hey, look! Your husband is allllll the way over here,” he points with his cane to the very bottom of the wheel, all the way on the other side from where the arrow landed. “As you can see, it’s not rigged. The wheel truly is random.”
“So… there really isn’t another catch?” You ask.
“Isn’t it enough for you to end a man’s life? You need a steeper price? If you’re really such a glutton for punishment, I’ll gladly re-negotiate the terms.”
“No, no… wait.” You examine the wheel, glancing between it and the Devil.
You really could use that three million dollars. Newly married, new house, you and your husband’s combined debt– those student loans really follow you around. He’s quite a bit older than you, and even he hasn’t paid them off yet, to the point where the whole time you were dating you watched him stress out about money. You had to have a small, budget wedding, and a small, budget honeymoon. Three million dollars could be big for the two of you. You could re-do your honeymoon and go somewhere nice, like Hawaii, instead of just taking two weeks in Atlantic City. You deserve it.
Even so, do you really want to kill an innocent photographer? Or an innocent seasonal allergy sufferer? Or an innocent blogger? Just because you don’t know or love these people doesn’t mean that someone doesn’t.
The cancer survivor
The bereaved
The applicant
Some of these were so vague. They could be anyone, honestly. Your neighbors, your father, your friends…
The newlywed
The ex-gifted kid
The uncle
The Badgers fan
“My husband is a Badgers fan,” you say.
“How lovely,” the Devil says.
Then it hits you.
Of course.
The weightlifter.
The careful driver.
The manager.
The claustrophobe.
Your husband Dave lifts weights at the gym twice a month. You wouldn’t call him a pro, but he does it. He also drives like he’s got a bowl of hot soup in his lap all the time, because he’s afraid of being pulled over. He just got promoted to management at his company, and he takes the stairs to his seventh-story office because he hates how small and cramped the elevator is.
“I get your game,” you announce. “You thought you could get me, but I figured you out, jackass!” “Oh really? What is my game, pray tell?” The Devil responds, leaning against his cane.
“All these different titles– they’re all just different ways to describe the same guy. My husband isn’t one notch on the wheel, he’s every notch. No matter what I land on, Dave dies. I’m wise to your tricks!”
The Devil cackles.
“You’re a clever one, that’s for sure. I thought you’d never figure it out.”
“Thanks but no thanks, man,” you say with a triumphant smirk. “I’m no rube. No deal. Take me back home.”
“As you wish, missus,” the Devil says. He snaps his fingers, and you’re gone, back to your brand-new house with your new husband. “Don’t say I never tried to help anyone.”
21 ⁺˳✧༚ Queer ⁺˳✧༚ Any pronouns, go wild I post. Very occasionally
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