Oh God WTF did I just read?

Okay, so I love to carouse fan fiction. I love it. It's hilarious, disgusting, thought provoking, emotionally draining, and a lot of the times is a serious ego boost for me.

And once in a while, you find some absolute gems.

Hell, a couple of very good friends of mine were met and made through fan fiction.

But I've also had my (un)fair share of reading REALLY REALLY GODAWFULLY BAD fan fics.

I have a few triggers, and lately I have unintentionally found all the stories that make me want to bleach my brain and gouge out my eyes. I have the worst luck ever.

But thinking about it, I have to stop and laugh. It's just so insane.

I was also talking to my sister about this, about the horrible, scary fan fics out there, and how we KNOW most of the actors who portray these characters are aware that these stories exist. So my sister asked me a very interesting question.

"What would your reaction be, Kai, if you found out there were stories written about you like this?"

First off, I'd be flattered. Even if it wasn't ME per se, but just my CHARACTERS? Oh hell yes, GO FOR IT. I think that means I've reached a certain level of notoriety right? If my characters are busily humping each other in someone else's mind? Cool. I'm cool with that.

If you're writing about me specifically? (And don't deny it, it exists.) Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! You really couldn't think of someone better to fantasize about?

Okay, well, let's pretend that someone out there is writing fan fics about me. Based on what I've read, my reaction would be three-fold after I get over the initial flattery, shock and embarrassment.

First, wow. What most of these bad fics are suggesting is highly unlikely to be possible. I'm afraid of heights, even standing on a chair to change a lightbulb or get something off a high shelf SUCKS. And I'm honestly not THAT flexible. I get it, it's fantasy, but you gotta work with realism. (I'm not gonna let myself be tied in a knot and put on a shelf for a harem of sex-crazy demons to do what they please with. Or whatever the hell that was that was happening in that fan fic.)

I AM NOT THAT FLEXIBLE. I don't think anyone is. Try to remember that, okay, erotica writers?

Two, just 'cause YOU think it's sexy, doesn't mean we all do. Gotta remember those triggers, man. If you wanna know what my big ones that hit the "NOPE" switch are, just ask. I'm really not that pervy, I just pretend like I am because this is the internet and girls aren't welcome here.

And finally...

Dudes, seriously? You're writing bondage? And you have to stop the 'action' to get something to tie your characters up with? Holy SHIT. I wear a paracord bracelet 99.9% of the time, and if I'm not WEARING it, it's somewhere close at hand BECAUSE I CAN NEVER BE WITHOUT MY STUPID FUCKING ROPE.

Good Lord, I guess it all really does boil down to realism, doesn't it?

Well, now, I guess I should go back and finish reading these bad fan fics. I don't plan on sleeping any time soon...

Kai Kiriyama lives in the frozen north known as Canada with her pet snake, Rhaegar.

Yes, she actually does have a paracord bracelet. The current one is purple.

If you wanna know what makes her tick, feel free to contact her at any of the following locations:

email: thekiriyamaheir@gmail.com
twitter: @thekiriyamaheir
facebook: facebook.com/authorkkaikiriyama
tumblr: thekiriyamaheir.tumblr.com

Milestone: First Rejection

I got my very first rejection letter today.

This is a new experience. I've been rejected before, for other jobs and whatever, but this was the first fiction story I've submitted to anything. Hence the first rejection letter I've ever received.

It was a simple, two line email that I made the mistake of reading before I was fully prepared to deal with anything today. [read: before I was properly caffeinated.] My initial reaction was to cry and to ostrich myself away forever. I didn't do either of those. My second reaction was to begin drinking immediately. But there was no alcohol in the house. I have since purchased some beer but have not started drinking yet, as I don't really feel the need to drown my sorrows with alcohol anymore.

I started to think about what this rejection means for me.

Well, first off, it means that I wasn't what the publisher was looking for. And that's okay. This was a short story that I had put an amazing effort into and yes, I'm pretty proud of how it turned out. I am smitten with my own ending. Definitely not something that I usually write, so that's a plus.

Secondly, it means that this story now has several options.

I could edit a bit more and submit it elsewhere, I could add more to the story and make it an actual novel (or novella if I'm feeling lazy) and submit it elsewhere, considering that it's a zombie story, I could probably get it cleared by ZT and have it printed in several instalments in the magazine, I could publish it on my blog for free reading...

The possibilities are not limited to what a single publisher is looking for. I am really only limited by my own time and imagination and drive to actually work on this story.

And that's all right, too.

I have a bunch of other projects on the go. Some are writing projects, some are personal projects, some are crafts, some are gifts... I'm really just limited by my own personal priorities and promises.

So now that I can look at this rejection with a clear head, and a more reasonable amount of caffeine in my bloodstream, what am I getting out of it?

Well, for one, I'm a little less cocky about it today. I went into submitting this story with full on confidence. I was utterly convinced that I was gonna get accepted and this would be my first official story published. My ego has taken a beating today and it's making me seriously reconsider my other works. Maybe I need a little more fine-tuning? Maybe I need to be more creative? Maybe I need to streamline my work? (I dunno how that last one is possible. I write screenplays that have no unnecessary scenes because I'm so to-the-point!)

I also realized that inflating my ego and being cocky is awesome. It makes the period of mourning about rejection a lot less brutal than it could be. I mean, I'm not crying. I'm not drunk. I'm sitting at my computer and I'm about to get back to work on another project while I decide what to do about this one. Being as cocky as I get means that the rejection hits hard, but I can bounce back pretty easily. It could be a lot worse. I don't deal with rejection well. You should see me when I get dumped. That's a horrible sight.

And is also a little bit off topic.

It means that I know that I can handle a rejection without spiralling into despair and madness (any more than I already am, anyway.)

It means that I have a story that could theoretically be submitted elsewhere and is fine tuned enough that I'm comfortable sending it out.

The point is that I have made peace with the rejection, understand that there are other fish int he sea, so to speak. I'm not angry, it's part of the game, and this is a game that I plan to keep playing for a long time. Writing is my craft and is going to be my full-time job. This story just wasn't meant to be the kick start I needed. And that's cool, too.

I dunno why I was rejected. I just wasn't what they were looking for this time.

But that's awesome, right? Because now I know that there are worse things than being rejected.

The Story of Thor and Skrymir (Kai's version)

One day, Thor, Sif, Tyr and Loki were having an argument about who the mightiest of them all was. It is worth noting that the gods were all fairly drunk at this point, and that we're talking about huge Viking gods, not the pitiful Marvel adaptations who are little more than aliens. Anyway, the argument got rather heated, as the mead continued to flow long after the other gods all went to bed for the night.

Each of the gods claimed that they were the mightiest, and if the stories are to be believed, only Thor could really  back that claim up, but still the arguments were presented.

Finally, Loki convinced the others that if they really wanted to test their might, they should all go to the coldest place that they could find and perform various feats of amazingness, and since Joutenheim was off limits, they went to Midgard, to the Arctic Circle.

So off they went in Thor's chariot (which as you know is pulled by two male goats and is not the most glamourous thing there is to travel around in.) In retrospect, Thor realized that it was a good thing that his father was asleep because Odin doesn't approve of drunk driving. (Let this be a lesson to all of you, there's no excuse for drunk driving and Odin will punish you if you do it.)

With a less than elegant landing in a snowdrift, the gods disembark from Thor's chariot and they all begin building snow forts because there's nothing else to do in the North Pole.

Sif's snow fort was a multiple roomed castle, complete with a sauna.

Thor build a squat longhall with a burning fire in the center of the room.

Tyr said fuck that and built a modest igloo but tamed a pair of polar bears to guard his new house.

Loki just sat and watched his friends build their snow creations with a smirk on his face. When the others were finished their creations, Loki stood slowly, shaking the snow from his shoulders. He transformed himself into a giant, a giant even more giant than regular giants because he was Loki and his ego demanded it. With a laugh, he began kicking apart the snow forts that his friends had built. Tyr's polar bears tried to stop him but he picked them up and tossed them over the arctic tundra and they didn't come back.

"Loki!" Thor cried. "You douchebag!" (Douchebag is an ancient Norse word that is, of course, translated to mean 'he who is a bag of douches.) "Now we are cold, and drunk and have no place to sleep. Also, my goats have been eaten by those polar bears you threw and we're stuck here until we're sober."

"No! You foolish Thunder-bitch!" Loki replied. "While it is true that we are trapped here until morning, I have proven once again that you are all silly and that I am the mightiest."

Tyr scratched his head with his one good hand. "How's that?" He slurred drunkenly, more than a little choked up about the loss of his polar bears.

"Well, as you know, I'm not a simple Aesir like you. In my blood runs the tolerance to freezing cold because I'm awesome and part giant." Loki explained impatiently. "And so I can withstand even the coldest temperatures in all the Nine Realms."

"We're still stuck, Loki." Sif said grumpily. "You moron."

Loki simply laughed. "My point, dear sister-in-law, is that I can sit here all night and not complain, but you all will freeze and die and I've half a mind to let you."

"I"m telling Father." Thor said pompously.

"Tattle-tale." Loki snapped. With a dramatic sigh, he took off one of his gloves and dropped it to the ground. "I was going to give you my vest, but you're all so ungrateful that you can sleep in my glove and just deal with it." He folded his arms over his chest and spent the rest of the night sulking.

Thor and Sif and Tyr, however, all climbed inside the glove and had the best sleep of their lives snuggled in the fingers of Loki's glove.

None of them would admit to Loki being the mightiest, though.

The End.

Kai likes to make things up, and this is her version of why Thor and his friends would have slept in Giant-Loki's glove. 

Send Kai your feedback, she loves it. 

A moment of Randomness...

I was in a bad mood and decided to vent the angry with a silly.

So I wrote a song.

I also have a habit of intentionally derailing Internet arguments by instigating Nazis, (not sure how that works,) or by arguing religion as an Asgardian Worshiper. Whatever. Enjoy. Or not. I don't much care, I am insane right now.

I present, the Nazi Song - sung in the key of Llama:

Here's a Nazi, there's a Nazi,
And a fucking lot of Nazis.
Happy Nazi, Grammar Nazi,
Nazi, Nazi, Duck.

I used to be a Nazi,
In Auschwitz I would play,
Until the Allied Forces showed up and saved the day.

Did you ever see a Nazi?
Touch a Nazi? On a Nazi?
Half a Nazi, Femi-Nazi,
Nazi, Nazi, Duck.

Arguments againt Sleeping Naked

What a novel concept, sleeping naked. We are so assured of our safety in our own homes that we have no problem revealing ourselves to the bed when we sleep. It's a relatively new concept too, I think. Sleeping indoors in a building I mean.

But we're protected from the elements indoors, so there's no question of having to protect yourself from rain or wind or snow. We open windows if we're too hot inside our buildings but even then it isn't like we need to protect ourselves entirely from the elements. That's why we build with wood and stone and brick.

But think about it, sleeping naked is probably the worst thing that you can do.

For starters, if you're like me, then you're an insomniac. I can guarantee that your roommates won't appreciate seeing you naked at 3 a.m. sitting on the couch, eating Cheetos and watching infomercials while your eyes bleed. Especially if you live with family. And while sitting naked at the computer is fun for a while, it tends to get boring and drafty after six hours of youtube and LOLcats.

Secondly, if you're an insomniac, you will probably need your phone with you so that you can chat with all your insomniac friends. Where are you gonna stick y our phone while you're doing insomniac things, like eating Cheetos. No pockets. So you'll want at least a place to hold your phone while your hands are busy.

My third argument against sleeping naked is probably the most logical of the lot. What if your house burned down while you were sleeping? Are you gonna have the time to find your pants before you run out of the house? Are you really gonna wanna be rescued by the firemen in your birthday suit? What if it's the middle of January in Canada when this happens? 40 below with no clothes sucks, trust me.

My fourth argument is this: would you run away with the Doctor in your skivvies? Probably not, and to be honest, unless we're talking 9th incarnation, he'd probably leave you behind. Besides, pockets are an integral part of time travel.

Okay okay, so I'm not making a lot of sense. Sue me, I just wanted to write something. But I'm gonna leave you with a final argument to make you reconsider sleeping naked.

The zombie apocalypse almost invariably strikes in the middle of the night and progresses into the next day. If there's zombies on my front step at 3 a.m. I am sure as hell not fighting my way out of my bedroom in anything less than jeans and a Tshirt. My pajamas are awesome, they have pockets in the pants and are made of flannel and to be honest, the Tshirt I usually sleep in is autographed so at least when I get bitten by a zombie that has broken into my house while I'm asleep, I'll look cool when I turn. I ain't having my nekkid body be shot by a survivor, I want that survivor to know that I was pretty damn cool before I was zombified. And dressing gowns are for sissies and Canadians. :P

Seance

The candles flickered in the chill breeze. The leaves rustling were the only sounds to be heard. It was as quiet as the grave otherwise. The dirt beneath their feet was hard-packed and the persistent wind sent the few fallen leaves scuttling across the ground around them. They were nervous, this was the first time they had ever attempted anything like this, but it seemed to be the only logical means of closing the case.

They were desperate. The police had failed so far and with no new leads on such a high profile case, there was pressure coming from all sides to finally give the family some closure.

So they had called her in. Starlight Ravenchild. A self-proclaimed witch and practitioner of helpful services. She had assisted other precincts on other cases, and apparently she was 100% accurate, even with knowing only specific names or dates. She never seemed to need much information and despite her unconventional methods, she had proven results. The family of the missing child were all for it, anything to recover their precious heiress.

The chief had snorted about it, claiming it to be some newfangled new-age B.S. that only the rich and gullible fell for. The chief was a born-again Christian and would have no part in any of this devilry.So he sent McGill and Tomashino to sit in on this one, godless heathens he had said. McGill laughed and pointed out, behind their boss`s back, that he was Irish-Catholic but would do it anyway.

The cops had met up before the designated time to secure the area, again. They didn't really think that anyone would try anything, it had remained very hush hush and besides, this was a kidnapping for ransom, not a mob trial or something that required constant media attention. Despite the family being rich, they weren't celebrities and they certainly didn't act like some other heiresses did.

Ravenchild and the parents arrived at the same time. They were all pale, but the cops suspected that Ravenchild did it on purpose. She wore all black under a white robe emblazoned with black stars and crescent moons. It was a lovely outfit, perfect for the Hallowe'en season. The cops exchanged glances, not really sure how they felt about this whole thing after all. Starlight Ravenchild stopped in front of the police officers and gave them both a critical look.

"You are the ones in charge of protecting us tonight?" She asked, her voice heavy with a Romanian accent that reminded McGill of a bad Hollywood gypsy.

"Yeah, from any human threats." McGill replied gruffly.

Starlight nodded. "Good. But you will need to join us in the circle first and foremost. No one will be here to harm us."

"Sure, lady." Tomashino said with a brusque nod.

"Follow me." Starlight trilled, chanting as she walked past the police officers towards the cleared patch of ground just beyond the last row of gravestones.

The missing girl's parents followed immediately but the police officers gave each other skeptical, worried looks.

"I don't like this, McGill."

McGill nodded. "I know, Vinnie. The whole thing smells like Phooey, but honestly, what else can we do?"

With a resigned sigh, the detectives followed suit. They found Starlight drawing on the ground with chalk she seemed to produce from nowhere. The rich parents held each other tightly as they watched with wide, teary eyes. Starlight continued to chant, her voice rising and falling and ululating in a foreign language no one understood. Clearly, she had performed this very ritual before.

"The words are complete." Starlight said, standing. "And the circle is drawn and cast. Now, all of you, hold hands, complete the circle with your minds and bodies. Pour your energy into finding this poor young girl."

"Natascha." The mother said. "Her name is Natascha."

Starlight nodded and began to speak again in her strange tongue. McGill and Tomashino glanced at each other and clasped hands, McGill holding Starlight's hand and Tomashino bravely taking Natascha's mother's hand.

They felt like they had been there for an hour, listening to Starlight chant and Natascha's parents weep. Every now and then an English word would slip through and McGill and Tomashino would exchange skeptical glances. It was useless, they agreed silently. It was all hokey and no one was going to get any answers tonight.

Just as McGill was ready to call the whole thing off, the wind began to pick up moving clockwise around them, and only around the little circle. It began to gust violently around them, growing stronger until it was whipping Ravenchild's robe around her body. The roar of the wind became almost unbearable and only Starlight's shouts of 'don't break the circle!' kept McGill at his post.

Suddenly, a pale, ghostly light began to ooze from the ground in the circle. White and shining it leaked out of the ground like water, pooling in the center of the circle and slowly building up on itself until it was a shapeless blob of glowing light.

"Spirit!" Ravenchild called out above the roaring wind. "We are here tonight to ask you about these grieving parents' child. Natascha has been stolen from her bed! The human law enforcement can not find her! We are here to ask you to show us the way to find this poor innocent child! Show us your true shape so that we may look upon the truth of what you tell us!"

The blob of light and energy began to shift, taking shape of a vaguely humanoid figure. It was too tall to be Natascha's ghost, the girl was young, this was the spirit of a full grown person. He growled under his breath, all his instincts working against him. It was unnatural, inhuman, dead, even! He tried to block out the words and the hallucination, but he couldn't.

And then it was over.

McGill felt himself drop to his knees, shaking and weak. Natascha's parents were clutching each other and sobbing. Ravenchild was chanting again. Only Tomashino seemed to have his wits about him. He was on his radio.

"All units, she's alive she's being held captive at..."

McGill passed out.

He awoke in the hospital, shaking still and disoriented. His partner was sitting next to his bed, but there was something odd. Like a shape floating next to him, glowing and white.

"What..?" McGill tried to ask.

"We found her." Tomashino replied. He looked gaunt, like he'd lost ten pounds very quickly.

"How long have I been out?" McGill asked, focusing only on the white blob floating by his partner's head.

"24 hours." Vinnie assured him. "But we found her."

"Natascha?"

"Yup." Vinnie nodded. "Alive and unbroken." He added.

McGill squinted. "There were others, weren't there?" He asked.

"Yeah." Vinnie paled a little more. "But they're all safe now." He stood up. "I gotta get some coffee, okay? I'll be back in a bit and we can uh... Debrief. Or something."

"Okay..." McGill mumbled watching the shining object follow his partner out of the room.

Moments later, Starlight Ravenchild appeared in the doorway. "You see them now too, don't you?" She asked mysteriously.

"See what?" McGill demanded.

"Spirits."

"So what if I'm still hallucinating?" He replied defensively.

Ravenchild smiled through her red lips. Her pearly teeth showing slightly. "You will accept them in time. And they will help you more and more." Her smile turned seductive. "You will ask for my help soon. To understand." And with that she left.

McGill laid back against his bed, staring at the growing number of hallucinations on the ceiling. All white and fuzzy and glowing. All silently crying out for his help...

The couch sighed softly as she sat down and made herself comfortable. The room was an absolute mess, leftovers from her previous projects lay strewn about haphazardly. She tried her best to ignore them, there would be time to clean up later. She stifled a yawn as she lifted the laptop from it's resting place and put her feet up on the comfortable yet mismatched footstool. She realized that she had no idea how the footstool had made it's way into the living room, but she wasn't going to complain, it made using the laptop on her lap that much more comfortable, if not easier.

Absently, she ran her hand through her hair, noting that it was not as dry and brittle anymore. She smiled to herself, realizing that these were awfully strange and mundane things for her to notice. She made a mental note to get back to being so blissfully ignorant about her appearance, but knew that deep down she would continue to notice things like how dry her hair is. She fiddled with a lock of her platinum white hair for another moment, really impressed that she hadn't destroyed it as badly as she thought she had.

Stop it.

She rolled her shoulders, stretching out her tired muscles. She'd been at the computer for three days now, accomplishing nothing but really wasting her time. Another blog, another social networking site, Twitter... So much to update because her fans and friends and family couldn't all just use the same bloody networking sites could they? No, she had to appeal to everyone. Oh well.

She twined her fingers together and stretched her arms, relishing the crack in her joints at her neck and shoulders. She never could get her fingers to pop.

She made one final adjustment to the laptop on her lap, moving the computer so that it wasn't so hot on her skin through the thin pants she was wearing. Yawning again, though not bothering to hide it this time, she positioned her fingers against the keys and began to type...

...she was Kai Kiriyama, The Great and Terrible. And she was on a mission...