words to describe personality

positive adjectives:

amiable: having or displaying a friendly and pleasant manner.

diligent: having or showing care and conscientiousness in one’s work or duties.

exuberant: filled with or characterized by a lively energy and excitement.

gregarious: temperamentally seeking and enjoying the company of others.

convivial: friendly, lively, and enjoyable.

placid: not easily upset or excited.

adroit: clever or skillful in using the hands or mind.

amatory: relating to or induced by sexual love or desire.

negative adjectives:

boorish: rough and bad-mannered; coarse.

cantankerous: bad-tempered, argumentative, and uncooperative.

miserly: characterized by or indicative of lack of generosity.

pompous: affectedly and irritatingly grand, solemn, or self-important.

shiftless: characterized by laziness, indolence, and a lack of ambition.

parsimonious: unwilling to spend money or use resources; stingy or frugal.

obtuse: blunt; stupid

Victorian Slang'

A society word meaning “smart.” Forrester demonstrates the usage: “The goods are not ‘afternoonified’ enough for me.”

A figure of speech used to describe drunken men. “He’s very arf’arf’an’arf,” Forrester writes, “meaning he has had many ‘arfs,’” or half-pints of booze.

Thieves used this term to indicate that they wanted “to go out the back way.”

An 1850 term for sausages, “because no man but the maker knows what is in them. … The ‘bag’ refers to the gut which contained the chopped meat.”

This phrase originated in London in 1882, and means “perfect, complete, unapproachable.”

Low London phrase meaning “to thrash thoroughly,” possibly from the French battre a fin.

Nineteenth century sailor slang for “A riotous holiday, a noisy day in the streets.”

A naval term referring to meat so bad “it might be dog flesh.”

Brave or fearless. “Adroit after the manner of a brick,” Forrester writes, “said even of the other sex, ‘What a bricky girl she is.’”

A verbal attack, generally made via the press. Forrester cites The Golden Butterfly: “I will back a first-class British subject for bubbling around against all humanity.”

Extravagance. Too much extravagance. “Are you going to put lace over the feather, isn’t that rather butter upon bacon?”

A London society term for tea and coffee “used scornfully by drinkers of beer and strong waters … in club-life is one of the more ignominious names given to champagne by men who prefer stronger liquors.”

A talkative woman.

A nickname given to a close friend.

Quarrels. A term from Queen Victoria’s journal, More Leaves, published in 1884: “At five minutes to eleven rode off with Beatrice, good Sharp going with us, and having occasional collie shangles (a Scottish word for quarrels or rows, but taken from fights between dogs) with collies when we came near cottages.”

To get a black eye. “Cop in this sense is to catch or suffer,” Forrester writers, “while the colour of the obligation at its worst suggests the colour and size of the innocent animal named.”

A delightful way to refer to your rather boring hands.

This creative cuss is a contraction of “damned if I know.”


Ray Barbee

Guy de Maupassant, Yvette (1884)

— Tu es amoureux.

— Non. Elle me trouble, me séduit et m'inquiète, m'attire et m'effraye. Je me méfie d'elle comme d'un piège, et j'ai envie d'elle comme on a envie d'un sorbet quand on a soif. Je subis son charme et je ne l'approche qu'avec l'appréhension qu'on aurait d'un homme soupçonné d'être un adroit voleur. Près d'elle j'éprouve un entraînement irraisonné vers sa candeur possible et une méfiance très raisonnable contre sa rouerie non moins probable. Je me sens en contact avec un être anormal, en dehors des règles naturelles, exquis ou détestable. Je ne sais pas.

— Je te dis que tu es amoureux. Tu parles d'elle avec une emphase de poète et un lyrisme de troubadour. Allons, descends en toi, tâte ton cœur et avoue.

— C'est possible, après tout. Dans tous les cas, elle me préoccupe beaucoup. Oui, je suis peut-être amoureux. J'y songe trop. Je pense à elle en m'endormant et aussi en me réveillant… c'est assez grave. Son image me suit, me poursuit, m'accompagne sans cesse, toujours devant moi, autour de moi, en moi. Est-ce de l'amour, cette obsession physique ? Sa figure est entrée si profondément dans mon regard que je la vois sitôt que je ferme les yeux. J'ai un battement de cœur chaque fois que je l’aperçois, je ne le nie point. Donc je l’aime, mais drôlement. Je la désire avec violence, et l'idée d'en faire ma femme me semblerait une folie, une stupidité, une monstruosité. J'ai un peu peur d'elle aussi, une peur d'oiseau sur qui plane un épervier. Et je suis jaloux d'elle encore, jaloux de tout ce que j'ignore dans ce cœur incompréhensible. Et je me demande toujours : « Est-ce une gamine charmante ou une abominable coquine ? » Elle dit des choses à faire frémir une armée ; mais les perroquets aussi. Elle est parfois imprudente ou impudique à me faire croire à sa candeur immaculée, et parfois naïve, d'une naïveté invraisemblable, à me faire douter qu'elle ait jamais été chaste. Elle me provoque, m’excite comme une courtisane et se garde en même temps comme une vierge. Elle paraît m’aimer et se moque de moi ; elle s’affiche en public comme si elle était ma maîtresse et me traite dans l'intimité comme si j'étais son frère ou son valet.

Denver melodic bass expert Illenium worked his fine magic on Marshmello’s collaboration with buzz sensation Khalid, Silence, and the end result is truly spellbinding and dulcet lilting. Silence takes on a dreamy pop charm and guitar driven indie rock tenderness under Illenium’s adroit guidance. Despite a swifter tempo, this is a melter of a feel good remix. It’s sweet and honeyed, bright eyed and sanguine, heartwarming and inspiring. And there’s just no resisting that wonderful guitar line that Illenium has so sagely added to the track. 

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There are only so many parallel universes
that concern us.     In one, he isn’t dead.

In another, you drink light with your hands
all winter. There is a universe in which no one is lying

emptied in the street as the gas station burns, a universe
in which our mothers haven’t learned to wrap

their bones in each small grief they’ve found.
There is a universe in which there is no difference

between the past and the ground. Another
where the oceans pull the moon.      And so on.

        This is an incomplete list.  It has been abridged
for your comfort.       I could tell you

about the many universes in which bad things
happen to people other than the people

you love. Yes, in another life, it’s someone else’s sister
who climbs to the roof that night. In another life,

the boys rise darkly from the asphalt to choke
the engines of cruisers, and no one gives birth

chained to a hospital bed, and no one’s child washes
blue, ashore. Sure. You can have these worlds.

You can warm them in your hands at night. But know:
by signing, you agree also to be responsible for the universe

where the oceans glow red, the universe where
what we call shadow is pulsing with the musk

of hooves, and especially the one in which
humans exist, but only in the nightmares

of small children. Will you hold that one too?
The version of the story that never learned

to consider sound? and the one where sound
is only the opposite of metal? and the one

where the sound of metal is never enough
           to quiet the dead?


  under the cut you will find a masterlist of  39 positive and  58 negative character traits!! i often find myself getting a bit stuck when it comes to finding traits for my characters, so i decided to create a list of them!! please like/reblog if you found this useful!! ( updated: january 13th, 2017)

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“I saw Tom Hiddleston play Cassio in Michael Grandage’s production of Othello, which starred Chiwetel Ejiofor and Ewan McGregor. I’d not seen him before, but it was quite clear that he was an utterly naturalistic speaker of Shakespeare. It’s not necessarily a part in which you can score, Cassio - he is in many ways the relatively straightforward young man… But Tom made him so effortlessly charming and was so adept, adroit and invisibly easy with the language, that it did feel like it was the start of something. Even against those two Ejiofor and McGregor, that boy really stood out," 

Kenneth Branagh 

“I will put Chaos into fourteen lines“

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

I will put Chaos into fourteen lines
And keep him there; and let him thence escape
If he be lucky; let him twist, and ape
Flood, fire, and demon–his adroit designs
Will strain to nothing in the strict confines
Of this sweet order, where, in pious rape,
I hold his essence and amorphous shape,
Till he with Order mingles and combines.
Past are the hours, the years of our duress,
His arrogance, our awful servitude:
I have him. He is nothing more nor less
Than something simple not yet understood;
I shall not even force him to confess;
Or answer. I will only make him good.


A TRAITS MASTERLIST !  (o*・ω・)ノ☆ミ *:・゚✧

( &&. * ⇄ under the cut you will find 55 underused traits i’ve stumbled upon or some that i just changed around and used bigger words ! each trait will have a description and synonyms so you can have a better understanding of the traits ! i’m hoping that these come off as helpful, and if it does, it’d mean a lot if you liked or reblogged this - thank you ! )

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Her hair dark reeds
                       or river snakes.          
                                  Her wet mouth the rupture
between your name
                       & what

                                  she made you.

Natalie Wee, from “The Other Woman,” published in The Adroit Journal

I am still mysterious to myself.
A thousand doors within me,
fingertips reaching out,
grasping for the handles.
On the cusp of becoming.
Maybe I’ll lose myself this year,
find a new city to fall apart in.

Here, I am Eeyorish.
Ruled by the instinct
to bury myself.

Out there, I am
clichéd, the independent coffee shop
inhabiter, writing sesquipedalian
poetry on an old typewriter and
my silence
I skip lectures to frequent
second hand bookshops and
other natural wonders.

Or, I am
the beautiful degenerate.
Socialite, brightest at night,
hands in the air
or holding back girls’ hair.
Putting drugs and
in my body.
Singing at the top of my lungs:
I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive.

Or, I am
first hand up,
last to leave the lecture theatre,
highest grades,
longest hours in the library.
Superlative, running rings
around my peers, wringing
productivity out of each second,
essays with adroit finesse,
begging my professors
for higher word counts.

Here, I am not
any of these factitious selves,
my own manic pixie dream girl.
There, I will not be either.
Nevertheless, I will change,
unlock doors.
And I hope they lead to me
becoming a little braver,
a little kinder.
—  L.H.
SasuSakuMonth17 Day 2

Title: And Nothing More
Summary: In pointing out everything Sakura’s not, Sasuke starts to figure out just who she is.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto–I just like to play in the universe.
Prompt: Something More from day two of the SasuSakuMonth Prompts.
Rating: T
Words: 2,880
Warning(s): None

When a girl with bubblegum pink hair walked into Sasuke Uchiha’s life at age twelve, he had no intention of letting her stay.

Sakura Haruno was smart, that much was true. It was also true, however, that one glance at her too-wide stance and weak grip on her kunai would tell even the lowest ranking chunin that this particular ninja-in-training had very little aptitude for the more practical aspects of her chosen career. What was her plan for facing an opponent, anyway? Lecture them on chakra pathways until they got bored and left? Stun them with her brilliant use of the most basic substitution technique? Startle them by throwing kunai in their general direction?

No. This girl with bright green eyes and innocence wrapped around her as tightly as a swaddled baby was not going to last. Innocents made great sheaths for the monsters of the shinobi world; Sasuke was only too aware of this.

At best, he concluded, Sakura was an accessory. A shiny bauble that dangled off the arms of nin far stronger and more menacing than they. At worst, she would become canon fodder. The unskilled foot soldiers that provided the numbers or distraction of any large scale operation.

Even Naruto, dead-last imbecile that he was, had the unwavering resolve to get better. Grow stronger. He knew the cold ache of loneliness that had long since taken root in the very marrow of Sasuke’s existence. While Naruto dealt with that sickly sting differently than he–choosing to shout out instead of shut up–Sasuke could respect that the blonde was still racing in the same direction as him: forward. And if his teammate had set his sights on Sasuke’s back as some sort of target, so be it.

Maybe he would use him as a springboard.

Sasuke had no need of arm candy with appropriately colored hair, however, so he elected to leave Sakura behind.

She was dead weight. A liability. A nuisance. Annoying.

And nothing more.

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