I don't know if its just the portent of getting older, but I have no patience with arrogant, rude, snarky love interests. I'm not saying they're bad or that people shouldn't enjoy them, I'm just personally tired of them. I feel like every other love interest these days is a rude asshole who our MC loves to hate until they fall in love. But at nearly 35, I'm like, okay, we get it you're a tough guy but I don't really have the time to deal with assholes, because you're actually boring. Show me some goddamn emotional maturity --- god, it makes me feel ancient saying that. Because I know "nice" and "kind" characters are rarely favorite, even our boy Peeta is still disparaged sometimes.
I'm not saying that characters all have to be nice or kind or whatever, give them a personality that is more than just "snark" and "sarcasm". In most real situations, people are usually remotely polite to strangers or people they barely know. Real snark and sarcasm is saved for people who you know, whether you like them or not.
PS: this also applies to female snarky/sarcastic characters. Unless you have a legitimate reason to be mean to someone or you're a hormonal teenager, just be nice.
The Missing Ingredient: How to Exorcise a Rude Demon
Elena’s lungs burned as she sprinted up the stony steps toward the forest hermitage. Brushing damp red hair from her forehead, she threw open the door, her breath hitching. All she could manage was a ragged, "I'm late, I know! I’m sorry, Auntie 'Ntunuzza!"
A resigned sigh drifted through the small house. "Your tea's gone cold. Never mind, we have work to do."
The woman stubbed out her cigar in a marble ashtray and rose from her rocking chair. Her spine was straight as a needle. She didn't look at the newcomer immediately; then, she turned, her blue eyes framed by shocks of white hair, and leveled a stern gaze at Elena. She crossed her arms.
"Where the hell have you been?"
"I had a date, Auntie. I told you I'd be late… more than usual."
The old woman rolled her eyes. "You're late regardless. Come."
Elena wanted to retort but thought better of it. She followed the old witch down the corridor to a distant room. Inside, the setup was sparse: a simple bed, a small desk serving as an altar, and wall sconces flickering with candlelight. A solitary window overlooked the ravine, offering a view of the darkening mountains.
Something felt different tonight.
“And this is supposed to be your novice, old hag?”
The voice came from a figure lashed to the bed: a young man with chocolate hair and olive skin. Elena might have found him handsome, if not for his eyes filled with a magic as dark as spilled ink.
“And this is supposed to be the demon we’re exorcising?” Elena tried to sound cautious, but her voice dripped with the same sarcasm as her skin did sweat.
“The demon I am exorcising. It’s far too early for you, but I’ll allow you to assist,” her teacher replied. The possessed man smirked.
"Do you need someone to walk you to the bathroom, old lady?"
"I wouldn't worry about who’s walking whom, demon. I’d worry about whether Hell has an ER nurse these days." After that sharp reassurance, the exorcist turned back to her assistant. "Now, watch. Bring me incense, dragon's blood, and garlic."
She lit a sprig of sage, pacing the room until it filled with thin gray smoke. Elena nodded and hurried to the kitchen. She swung open the oak pantry and grabbed a few vials, but then, a cold shiver froze her hand.
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."
She set the bottles down and crept back into the room. "Auntie… remember when you asked me to buy those things yesterday? And I told you I'd put them away?"
The old woman was already murmuring blessings, but she nodded.
"I might have forgotten the garlic…" Elena whispered.
The room grew stifling, and not from the candles. 'Ntunuzza went still. Her expression turned grave.
"Are you telling me," the sage smoke suddenly swirled black, "that you had a whole day to fulfill your responsibilities, and of all things, you forgot one of the primary ingredients for an EXORCISM?! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!"
"I'm in no hurry to leave," the possessed man shrugged against his restraints. "Take your time finding it. Though personally, I prefer onions." His tone was pure mockery.
"SILENCE!" The burning sage branch struck the man’s forehead. He let out a guttural growl but eventually shut up. The air crackled like static. The witch turned, pointing a gnarled finger at the door. "Get out of this house and find me garlic! Now!"
"But it's 1 a.m.! Where am I supposed to—?"
"I don't care where! We are in the final hours of the waning moon. I will not perform an exorcism in the dead of night or during a new moon just because my novice is an irresponsible whippersnapper! I should hex you myself! Go! If you aren't back with garlic within the hour, your apprenticeship is OVER!"
Elena bolted for the exit. The old witch shook her head, sitting on the edge of the bed next to the demon.
"Novices these days. No idea what real work looks like."
"Back in the day, they’d burn us at the stake for mistakes like that," the demon agreed.
They heard a muffled curse from outside; Elena must have slipped on the stone steps. 'Ntunuzza sighed.
Teaching was hell.
Six minutes later, the door creaked. The old woman frowned. "I told you not to come back without—"
She stopped. Elena stood there, a fresh smudge of dirt on her cheek, pointing a defiant finger at her mentor.
"You were trying to trick me, Aunt!"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I didn't catch it at first, but you knew! You never start a ritual without double-checking the components." Elena raised her fist, clutching several purple-skinned bulbs. "You were testing my resourcefulness. Well, test passed!"
She marched into the room under the demon's suspicious gaze. "I didn't need to scour the woods for wild garlic. I got what we needed from your own garden. You were out of garlic, sure, but the wild onions were right there."
The possessed man glared at her, his eyes like black oil. "That was a joke, little girl."
"Yes, you wanted to piss me off. But Auntie taught me that a witch must adapt with the tools she has. AND," she smiled slyly, "I actually did read the Encyclopedia of Magical Plants. Onions work just as well for redirection. Did you really think I’d miss the show?"
'Ntunuzza stared at her for a long, silent moment.
Then, a slow grin spread across her face, ignoring the hissed curses of the demon who realized his time was up.
"You’re still bringing me real garlic tomorrow, young lady."
POST YOUR TOP 5 SNARKY BITCH CHARACTERS - then tag five others to also play along. I got tagged by @blackandwhiteandrose and @ravens-words last week and so I'm taking it on to do my top five snarky bitch characters and/or teams (because they don't often come alone, LBR). The ones that made the cut are from my comfort media that I rewatch all the time...
David Rose and Stevie Budd (Schitt's Creek)- I could listen to these besties snark at each other all day.
TK Strand and Nancy Gillian (911 Lone Star) - Love my paramedic siblings who will bitch at each other all day. LOVE
Haley James Scott, Peyton Sawyer and Brooke Davis (OTH) - My girl bestie OT3, they're the best at sacastic snark and they will kill for each other.
Alexander Gideon Lightwood (Shadowhunters TV) - Alexander, my beloved, there is little better than his sarcastic lines. Best dismissal ever: I have a wedding to plan.
Dr. Reid Oliver and Luke Snyder (Guidling Light) - One of my favorite enemies to lovers ships of all time. These two had the best snark banter of anyone ever. Also, Guiding Light ended on September 3rd, 2010. Whatever happened after that episode is factually untrue. ;)
Honorable Mention: (shows I love but don't rewatch like a maniac all the time - just rewatch softly sometimes)
Katara, Sokka and Toph (ATLA) - Ang and Zuko had no idea what to do with these three trolls, whom I love beyond all reason.
Catra (She Ra and the Princesses of Power) - My beloved.
Alex Manes and Liz Ortecho (Roswell, NM) - Love my morally grey besties who have no time for nonsense.
Pran Parakul (Bad Buddy: The Series): He's such a snarky little shit and I love him so much.
Regina Mills and Emma Swan - OUAT is a complicated piece of media, but man, I love these two and their snarky selves.
Edalyn Clawthorn (TOH) - I will never be over my favorite anarchist wild witch.
The Ladies of ST: Voyager - Janeway, Torres and 7 of Nine changed my life.
**Hi, so I decided I’m going to start posting the short stories I write. I’m trying to get better as a writer, and what better way to do that than to get feedback from readers?
So if you like urban fantasy, snarky necromancers, and short adventures, this short story might be right up your alley!**
Chapter One
I always try my best to avoid performing any unnecessary necromancy. Life and death is a delicate weave of fate after all, and holding such power is, frankly, a gift that should only be used for important situations. Unless some dude had the gall to die when he still owed you twenty bucks.
Then you wake that fucker up.
My shovel sunk into the gravelly earth beside me with a soft chinnk as I straightened to survey the work I had done. The grave had been shallowly dug in a patch of sketchy, leafless woods just outside of the city. The guy in question had been dead for a day, and the people who offed him hadn't had much time for a proper burial ceremony, so the natural ways of the earth were already trying to claim him. Not that natural ways mattered once I got involved.
I rolled my shoulders with a wince at the ache in my back, and stretched my arms high above my head to work out the kinks. (See, people think the whole 'raising the dead' thing is the hard part, but really it's all the digging.) (Seriously, there's a lot of digging involved with this lifestyle.)
A chill was slowly creeping into my bones even with the recent exercise, and my fingers, stiff from cold, felt thick and frozen as I fumbled with my jean pockets to retrieve a pink pocket knife. Then I gritted my teeth against the pain and quickly made a practiced, shallow slice across my left forearm. I pumped my fist to make the blood well faster until it started to drip down into the darkness below.
Most of the time when people think of necromancers, they picture guys in dark cloaks, weird chanting, and virgin sacrifices. And I'm sure there are others out there who do employ all those theatrics, but only because they aren't already gifted with control over the dead, like me. I only need to use my own blood to signify the power in my veins, and to add a little extra oomph when it comes to bigger resurrections, like humans.
An owl hooted softly above in anticipation of the setting sun as I wrapped the cut, staring down in wait at the pale form still covered by a thin layer of dirt, and still dead. Sometimes it took a couple minutes.
With a sudden wide-eyed gasp, he finally jolted up, sending dirt from his shallow grave spraying off him. Deep, rattling coughs followed shortly after as he attempted to hack up the dirt he had just suddenly inhaled. I absently cleaned under my nails while I waited for him to get a hold of himself.
"Wha-?" he sputtered, wiping his hands down his face to clear away the dirt from his eyes. He blinked rapidly, staring down at his dirty, ripped clothes and the dried blood stain right over his heart from the bullet that must've done the deed. He ripped his gaze away to look around, jumping a little when he finally noticed me standing above him. "Kali?!" he gasped in a hoarse tone that held more disdain than shock.
"Surprise," I answered in a high, cheery voice, propping an arm on the shovel's handle.
"What are you doing here? Why -?" His face fell as realization hit. "Oh god, I'm dead, aren't I? Unless this is just a really horrible dream."
"Nope, just dead. Well, undead technically," I said simply with a shrug, tucking my hair behind my ear. The streaks of pink stood out starkly against the natural black, catching the sunset's light filtering through the trees. "But let's not get caught up on the whole thing, I'm sure you lived a good, long life."
His face scrunched up, wrinkling the recently broken nose he was sporting. "I'm twenty-two."
"…And that's long, compared to, y'know… People back in Renaissance times." I scuffed the toe of my shoe against a tuft of grass. Comforting others wasn't one of my strong points, but it was something that, unfortunately, seemed to come with the lifestyle too. "Look, Jerry –"
"Jake."
" – I'm just here to get my twenty bucks back."
He stared at me. "Are you serious?"
"Dead." I fixed him with a stare of my own that relayed just how serious I was about the matter. "You said you were going to pay me back as soon as possible. But it's been a month. And then you went and died."
"I was murdered!" Jake exclaimed in exasperation, sitting up straighter in his grave and waving his hands wildly at the blood stain. His movements were sluggish despite his enthusiasm, (a side-effect of regaining control of your recently-decomposing meat-sack.) "You came all this way to find me, then raised me from the dead, all because you wanted your twenty dollars back?!"
I blinked expectantly. "What else would I be here for?"
He looked around at the empty autumn woods, speechless, as if trying to find someone else to share in how unbelievable this was. "Oh, I don't know, maybe to help me find the guys who did this?"
I winced semi-apologetically. "Sorry, but I wouldn't say we were exactly close… So I'm not really looking to get myself involved in whatever it was that got you killed in the first place. I'm good with just getting my money back, thanks."
Jake passed a hand over his buzzed brown hair, sprinkling more dirt from his head onto his still-covered lap. "We've shared the same class for a whole semester," he tried, "and we live in the same dormitory…?" When I didn't reply, he rolled his eyes with a frustrated sigh. "Y'know what? Fine. I'll give you your money back. Then you can just leave me alone to be dead in peace." He patted his jean pockets, then frowned.
My eyes narrowed. "What's wrong?"
"I think they stole my wallet." He shoved his hands in his pockets to double check, but pulled them out empty.
"You've got to be kidding me."
He flashed a sarcastic smile over his shoulder. "Well, looks like we're both having some equally bad luck. I get murdered, and you lose twenty bucks."
"Sure, but this means I smudged the whole 'with great power comes great responsibility' rule and hiked through these woods for nothing, so who here actually has the worst luck between us?"
"Me. I literally died."
"Semantics," I brushed off, much to his annoyance, before examining the undug grave. "Now I have to make it look like I was never here." With a peeved sigh, I waved my hand to sever our connection.
His eyes grew wide and he sputtered out – "No, waitwaitwait-!" before he flopped back onto the earth in a lifeless heap.
The woods fell quiet. I scanned the darkening sky; the bare tree limbs stretched like twisting veins against the fading backdrop and a dead leaf twirled through the air to land softly to its rest on the cold ground. I surveyed Jake's lifeless body, a tiny bit of guilt welling despite all common sense.
An owl hooted again, a sharp, judgmental sound. The stupid bird should have better things to do than critique my morality. But the guilt still grew. With an annoyed growl, I tore off the bandage on my arm and pinched the cut until more dark blood dribbled onto his white t-shirt to add to the stain.
He jerked back up with another huge, gasping breath, rubbing the back of his head from where it had smacked onto the edge of the grave when his body had fallen. "Ow," he groaned pointedly, shooting daggers up at me.
"So what, this was a robbery gone wrong?" I asked reluctantly, ignoring the look.
Jake's eyebrow rose, obviously suspicious at my sudden interest. "No, I think they intended to kill me from the start. They must've just taken the wallet so I couldn't be identified as easily - not that you care."
"Could you identify your murders if you saw them again?"
He shuffled in the loose dirt, eyes squinting as he thought back through hazy memories. "Uh, yeah I should."
I bit the inside of my lip, hating how much I knew I was going to regret this. "Alright," I grumbled. "You can come back to the dorms with me. But here," I reached down to grab the coat I had recently taken off to dig better, and threw it down to him. "Put this on. It'll hide the blood so you won't look as sketchy when I sneak you in."
Not wanting to tempt fate, he shrugged it on without argument. I was about average height for a girl and the coat was oversized to be extra comfy, but he was tall and athletically built, so it hung shorter and clung a little tighter around his arms, but it would have to do for now.
I offered a hand to help him up, and the light brown of my skin contrasted sharply against his unnaturally pale tone. I distantly recalled him having a nice tan before death; (another unfortunate side-effect of being a reanimated corpse is that you are, well, a corpse, and as a result lose any sun-kissed look you may have perfected when alive.)
He staggered to a stand beside me and once I was sure he could hold his own balance, I finally released my grip. "Now, you can ride in my car," I said as I ripped the shovel out of the dirt and started leading the way out of the woods. "But if you so much as get a speck of that crusty blood on the seat, I swear I will kick your spirit out of your body so fast you'll go spinning."
"I believe you," he muttered from behind me as we left the empty grave far behind.
so i enjoy writin, and ive been workin on a book ( i already have published a short story) and i just thouht i would share some of my writings that i really love
RULES: POST YOUR TOP FIVE FAVOURITE SNARKY BITCH CHARACTERS then tag five others to play. Thanks for the tag @mallpretzles
1. Stevie Budd
2. David Rose
3. Kat Stratford
4. a stressed out Jocelyn Schitt
5. Lorelai Gilmore
I feel like a lot of folks have been tagged but let the snark continue @vanillahigh00 @walnuts-and-berries @themelancholyvegetable @sspaz1000 @linda-priv
Things That Make Me Pick Up a Book / #toptentuesday 182
Things That Make Me Pick Up a Book / #toptentuesday 182
Does anyone else struggle with writing introductions for top ten tuesday posts? Because I for one stare at a blank paragraph every time. Especially with this one I was stumped how to start so here we are. Talking about how stumped I am for a start to this top ten tuesday post.
The topic for this week is things that make you pick up a book. (Top Ten Tuesday is as always hosted over on That Artsy…
Any tips on how to make your character snarky? I love snarky characters myself, but I fear being unable to communicate snark myself...
Split into its two composite aspects, snark is literally made up of snide remarks (hence the word mash up). So a snarky character is made by giving them a dialogue of derogatory or mocking commentary, which is generally delivered in an indirectly critical way.
This much is obvious, but less simple is living up to this descriptor. To deal with the remark aspect of snark you first need to get inside your character’s head, specifically to consider how they perceive things. A snarky character tends to consider the world in a cynical or at least sceptical light, and the people or goings on around them stupid or illogical; this is what enables the condescending, or snide quality to their outlook.
Such critical perception enables snide observations; clearly, in order to be derogatory a character must have a sense of superiority in a situation. This could be because they are, or at least believe they are, more intelligent than their companions and their plans. However, snark can occur from a situation simply more stupid than they are, and the character in question does not have a way out of it; the event unfolding is undesirable but inescapable.
There are other factors at play here; a non-snarky character in a perceived position of eminence could react very differently from a snarky one, for example simply by being positive about the situation. A snide character has motivating factors that can in turn be seen in a pessimistic light. Likely they are frustrated or irritated by the situation, or responding to it sarcastically is a defence mechanism meant to distance and conceal. The character in question could possibly be an arrogant one, if they do genuinely perceive themselves to be better than their surroundings, and unhelpful to those trying to resolve the issue rather than take shots at it. A snarky character may equally be more passive-aggressive, and be using snide remarks to make a point they don’t wish to address directly.
Most importantly, and thus far neglected in this response, is the characters wit. This has been alluded to through observations on the character’s own perception of the intelligence, but it is essential to clarify that the character must have some modicum of intellect in order to be snarky rather than just annoying. Snark often involves responding to something in a way unexpected, and therefore amusing, and in order for a character to do this they must be sharp enough to see the opportunity and respond to it before other characters (and the audience) have time to.
To use an example I find endlessly irritating but suits the purpose: “What’s up?” “The sky.”
Though no longer remotely within the bounds of witticism, this exchange shows a commonplace remark that has an expected follow up dialogue. Because the response is seemingly a non-sequitur, and an unhelpful one to boot, but upon further inspection does make sense, it qualifies as snark. A more fun example is that favoured quote from House that is often seen floating about tumblr: “We have rectal bleeding.” “What, all of you?”
So when you’re writing a snarky character consider twice the situation that they are in, particularly if you yourself are not naturally inclined to be snide. Is there a less obvious interpretation of their surroundings? If so, try using it.
In essence, a snarky character should have the following characteristics; a cynical outlook and a degree of confidence both of which enable the delivery of snide remarks. Keep this in mind when writing one!
