In my old age (of 19) I look upon my old scribbles known as my "precious" fan fictions. In these little stories as every young clinically insane pre-teen/teenager in those crucial years discovering her true self has wrote these fictions, sometimes with her own characters added to the story, diverting from the plot of course, and what may ensue is but a precious bond between these characters and hopefully, crossing her fingers as she writes them, that the characters may return the feelings she's had for them ever since the first day she saw their perfectly drawn face upon Toonami (that's a mood killer).

Looking upon these stories, a small smile graced my aged features (a hyperbole since I look 15). Thinking further into these failed stories (I never finished them), I had an epiphany. I thought I would write a drabble about these "clinically insane" fan girls, but portray what I feel would be the real actions of the beloved characters in such a situation.

As we know, the reactions of said fan girls will be quite dramatic, and in truth I feel would scare away the "bishies" as once referred to once upon a generation (why did people quit using that word? I thought it was cute, no pun intended). But enough said I'll begin with a famous game within the gamer/anime community: Kingdom Hearts.

Sigh. I wish I could find a good fanfic. No one writes good ones anymore. They just put garbage out there. Sitting in front of an illuminated computer screen a young teenager listening to the song, "I kissed a drunk girl," playing on her iTunes, scowled, and lazily scanning the page before clicking to another page. Heaving another sigh, she threw herself over the computer keyboard resulting in her ancient piece of crap referred to as a computer malfunctioning and freezing up.

"No, no, no, no, no, noooooo!" She whined stroking the monitor, attempting to sooth the computer and to help assist it in unfreezing. After a few minutes she cussed and turned her computer off manually. "Piece of junk," she hissed, her anger rising.

While waiting for the ancient machina to reboot, she ran to her room, grabbed one of her manga, also known as a Japanese comic to those un-educated in the world of anime, and began to read the story drawn upon the pages. Before even getting five pages further, a little girl with honey brown hair and big brown eyes entered.

"Sissy, can I look at the pictures with you?" She asked with wide, curious, eager eyes. The older teen's eyes widened in alarm for a moment before she closed the book, hugging it protectively to her well developed chest, for we all know little sisters may not be corrupted by such evils such as yaoi books like: Fake, Eerie Queerie, and so forth.

"No, you can't read them!" She stated firmly, for why should her little sister taint her pure innocent mind. The teen's mind was too dark, too irreparable that it did not matter what she did, whether it be reading or drawing obscene images, saying profanities and the like. The teenager was insane, dark, cynical, and something that could only be the product of an impossible love of the world she wanted, but could never be a part of: This was the curse of the fan girl.

The little sister looked at her with huge sad eyes. The teen did feel sorry for that little girl, wanted to share her hobbies and interests, but then what would become of her sister. Well that, and the little sister would tell her parents that she reads yaoi, and as every anime fan knows; Thou parental units shall not allow such graven filth such as yaoi enter their homes or their daughters' mind. And in all actuality, if her parent's had any inkling of what she watched and read, they would burn all of her expensive anime that had taken several month's allowances, and then promptly remove all privileges that allowed contact with all she held dear. This of course would be the computer, her manga, television, and videogames.

After this, the true torture would begin, for withdrawals from anime could extremely painful and even fatal. If one was deprived from anime for a prolonged period of time without slowly weaning the dosages, death of the imagination, and even sudden diffusion identity disorder could occur, costing the poor victim thousands of dollars and several ruined relationships in their adult life.

This would result in low self-esteem, and poor people skills, thus endowing the ex-anime lover a minimum wage job at McDonalds for several years until they got sick of it and quit. Then they would work at a Seven Eleven for the next nine years. Without warning, when the mid-life crisis would occur, the person would suddenly suffer from critical regression and revert to their pre-teen or even their teenage years.

Due to the regression, thousands of dollars would be spent on a plethora of anime and video games. That of course would result in the loss of their job, for they would not be mentally capable of going to work while binging on the entire season in Yu Yu Hakusho in one sitting and besting their own game in Final Fantasy X. The spouse of this poor regressing victim, feeling rather angry and neglected by their child-like spouse, would divorce the damaged soul, leaving a gigantic emotional scar on this poor, deprived, regressing victim, and then without warning the divorced spouse would commit suicide with a vintage katana made by a renowned Japanese sword smith in such a brutal fashion that would make Sephiroth proud.

And that is why it's dangerous to take away someone's anime and their video games for extended periods of time.

Back to real time facing the little sister, with her cute innocent eyes and lower lip quivering slightly, she nodded solemnly. She understood that she was not to be a part of her big sister's world, for it was something older mature people do. And our protagonist? She couldn't help but feel a little guilty for her sister; for there was some love there, but the lust that anime held for her was too much. Maybe later she would find some innocent E-rated stuff for her little sister or play Kingdom Hearts with her.

After that little discussion with her sister, and the soliloquy in her head in regards to anime withdrawal, the computer was finally booted up, and maybe she would think about updating one of her fan fictions, among many of her other computer related activities.

After spending hours on the computer, slowly the protagonist was growing weary of her search of a hilarious fanfic that would make her endear her precious "Pyro Bishie" more so, if that were already possible. She was looking for a story that would portray her Pyro Bishie as a man's man, with a gentleman chivalry hidden ever so cleverly because that was just how he was, and this could be none other than Axel. With his red flaming hair, dark complexion, perfectly sculpted body, and those piercing teal eyes, it could bring any fan girl to her knees. Amidst the worshiping thoughts of Axel, sluggish footsteps brought her back to reality. Her father sleepily stumbled his way into the computer room.

"Tal?" He mumbled groggily. "Shouldn't you be going to bed?" Tal, her full name being Talon because what kind of fan fiction would this be if our protagonist had a very common name such as: Ashley, Brittany, or Katie.

Tal, the misnamed teen, hunched protectively over the keyboard, glaring at her dad silently. Curiosity glinted in his eyes as he began to make his way toward the computer. Fearing what incriminating information her father might find within the illuminated screen, she quickly jumped over to a much safer page that would deter any questions that would arise.

"I was just about to go to bed." Tal mumbled, slowly blinking her eyes. Her father briefly glanced over the pages before yawning himself, his interest waning.

"Well I sure hope so. It's one in the morning, and last time I checked, you had school." He looked at his daughter reproachfully. Tal smiled sheepishly in response to his stern look. Even if she couldn't wake up, her parent's would still force her to go to school, even by UPS if necessary. She signed off, then held her hands up and shrugged.

"See? I'm all done, and I'm going to bed." She stated, lifting herself out of the chair and pushing it in. Her father grunted, and turned, blindly making his way to the bathroom in the dark household. Tal looked over her shoulder at the computer for a long moment before sighing ruefully, and going to bed.

Tal slept without incident, and too soon, or anyway it felt to her, that her alarm began its grating call to wake the dead. Stumbling out of bed, expertly dodging all the obstacles that littered her path, she shut the cursed thing off, and expertly crawled back into bed, the sweet embrace of her warm comforter, and her soft pillow, that methinks she stole from one of her family members, cradled her head.

Ten minutes later her mother poked her head into her room. "Tal, shouldn't you be getting up." Tal mentally cursed, for if her parents had heard her utter such foul words, then just like when she was four, her mother would wash her mouth out with vile Dawn Dish Soap. Not bar soap because that was too easy to scrap off, but Dawn was liquid soap, and tasted repulsive. That is why she watched her mouth around her parents, despite the fact that her father had a problem with his french dialect as well.

Finally addressing the question at hand, Tal mumbled from her blankets, "I'm supposed to, but I don't feel like it." A typical response of someone who was having pleasant dreams, and stayed up past one in the morning. Tal's mother shrugged, and exited.

Tal lay on her bed, wishing desperately that she could get a few more hours of sleep, but that of course what out of the question. With every processor in her mind willing her to get up, she threw off her blanket, and blindly groped around in the dark, searching for her clothes.

Finally finding what she wanted, she clumsily dressed herself in her much loved baggy green cargo pants, and her tight black Fullmetal Alchemist shirt which was adorned with the serpent and the cross on the backside of the shirt.

Hoisting up her Fullmetal Alchemist bag and slinging it across her chest, mind you that the bag cost Tal forty dollars, a very wise investment, she sauntered her way out of her anime infested sty, and headed for the front door, along the way putting on her favorite pair of vintage army boots that had the oddest effect of making Tal feel rather intimidating and a force to be reckoned with.

Once out the door, in her driveway in silver PT Cruiser was her friend Naomi, and Rae. Now in actuality Naomi's name was Cait, and Rae was Mandy, but that seems so... American and we can't have that now can we? And anyway since when did any hard core anime fan actually go by their name... NEVER! So Tal climbed into Cait's messy PT... Er I mean Naomi's PT Cruiser and off to school the three went, without incident.

The day of a hard core anime fan girl is a rather dull unless she chooses to liven it up, but this requires self sacrifice. One must forgo a shot at being popular or even considered normal and by normal it is meant sane to a lesser extent, like Ben Stiller sanity, or for the gamer fans out there like Cloud Strife sanity; Harmless for the most part.

How does Tal liven up her day it is asked? She reads manga in class, and draws pictures on her notes and tests. During down time whilst working in groups, she will discuss with her close knit community of fellow anime nerds about the latest stories, and about the hottest "bishies," and even quote sayings from her shows and manga. During this time though, she must dodge hostile remarks from the much despised "Anime Haters." Not that they ever watched an episode... except for a really crappy anime like Beyblade, but nonetheless their hatred was focused on the anime lovers and so a delicate relationship was formed: Lovers and Haters.

This was the extent of Tal's day, everyday. After school Tal would hang out with her best friend Rae. They would walk around their little humdrum town, and then visit the library to see if they got any new anime. Much to their liking one of the librarians really liked anime so she was diligent to update the local library.

While walking around town, Rae saw a little duck swimming around in the local park, Clark Park, and ran closer to the little duckling. Tal rolled her eyes, "Rae, you're pathetic."

Rae looked over her shoulder, sticking her tongue out at Tal, and then kneeled down on the side of the bank, reaching out to the small fowl. "You're going to fall into the creek." Tal warned mockingly. Rae paid no heed to her friend, cooing to the little bird. Tal rolled her eyes, shaking her head. A black spot in the side of her vision drew her attention. Looking over, she saw nothing. Glancing warily back at Rae, she saw a flicker of black in the corner of her eye. Snapping her head towards the direction, everything seemed to be fine.

Cautiously, Tal made her way toward the opposite end of the park. Standing in front of a huge oak tree, a bubbling mass of black ooze seeping out of a rabbit hole revealed itself to Tal. Bending down gingerly Tal reached out, her fingers barely grazing the bubbling mass. The black ooze pulled back temporarily before reforming where her finger interrupted the flow.

Tal lifted up her finger to her nose to sniff the substance on her fingers when suddenly the black on the tip of her fingers ran down her hand consuming it whole. With a shriek, she swung her hand back and forth, trying desperately to remove the strange substance. Brushing it with her other hand proved in only spreading the black ooze more quickly.

With her heart racing, she began running towards her friend Rae. "Help!" Her desperate cry brought Rae out of her little world. Rae jumped up so suddenly she fell into the creek. Glaring at Tal, her face morphed into a look of horror as a stifled scream escaped her mouth.

"Tal, what happened to you?" Rae scrambled out of the creek running towards Tal, shocked and awed by the black that had consumed her friend's skin entirely giving her the look of a shadow with crystal blue eyes. Tal, who was feeling weaker by the second, stumbled to her knees, and craned her neck up, watching Rae dash across the park before she saw dark crawl its way across her vision and she fell unconscious.

Upon regaining consciousness, Tal laid still, screwing her eyes more so, the brightness of the room overwhelming. I must be in the hospital, she concluded, for hospitals tend to have very bright rooms. The sound of people whispering amongst her drew her attention.

"So, what do we do with her?" She heard a male voice ask in a hushed whisper.

"I could perform experiments on her. She would make a very interesting subject." A nasally male voice replied.

"I don't think Xemnas would like that." Another familiar sounding male voice spoke up. Xemnas... Tal's eyes snapped open, bolting up.

"Xemnas!" She screamed, her eyes wildly darting about the room. The men standing about the room swathed in black coats jumped back, hands ready to strike.

"Aieeee, she's possessed." One of the men shouted, dancing backwards and pointing at Tal. Tal's eyes fastened on the man.

"Demyx?" She asked with a wide eyed innocence. The figure froze.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. How do you know his name?" One of the hooded figures asked, crossing his arms. Tears brimmed Tal's eyes for she would know that sexy voice anywhere. It was the voice of the sex god; Axel. In such excitement, Tal jumped off of the bed she was lying on and wrapped her arms around the beloved pyro bishie.

"Ohmygosh, I hope I'm not dreaming because this is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Make babies with me!" Tal yelled with the enthusiasm of someone who had fantasized about this pyro for long hours, and all the while Axel stood scared speechless as any sensible person would be. The other figures standing about the room snickered, the shortest one biting his gloved fist to suppress the raucous laughter begging to come out.

"Hey, sweetheart. This is creepy with a capital C. Could ya let go?" The sex god asked rather uncertain, for it is not every day a kid hugs you begging you for children that would obligate you with child support for the next eighteen years along with the fact that pedophilia is wrong.

"How is this creepy? It's destiny. We were meant to meet, and fall in love, and get married." Tal replied earnestly, her arms secured around her bishie for if he were to escape, then her dream would end and she would wake up alone and continue the relentless cycle of her anime fandom.

Axel, with quite a bit of force pried the fan girl from his waist. He pulled back his hood, only to have Tal's obnoxious squealing render him temporarily confused. "OMIGOSH, YOU'RE EVEN HOTTER IN PERSON!" Her voice boomed throughout the room, making everyone grimace as their brains tried to explode from the volume and frequency that Tal's vocal chords were putting out. Under any other circumstance the Pyro Bishie would be flattered, but there was something seriously wrong with this girl, and it was rather disturbing.

"Hey girl." A deep voice came from one of the hooded men. Tal looked over her shoulder rolling her eyes.

"I know it's you Xaldin." She stated absently. "And the name's Tal." Xaldin stood in silent shock for her verbal response was speech rendering, especially since she knew his name, but he had not an inkling of who she was. Some people might take Tal's ability of knowing these people as impressive, but not the black clad figures loitering the room. As far as they were concerned, they were nobodies. They were known by no one, so for some strange girl that had literally popped up out of thin air to be so well informed made them quite disturbed and hostile.

"How do you know my name!?" Xaldin asked with a steely voice that made even the toughest foes quake with fear. Tal blinked in confusion. The silence in the room mounted tension so thick that Tal could taste it in her mouth. This made her lips quirk into a smile.

"I know everything." She replied, narrowing her eyes mysteriously. She couldn't help but mentally snicker. If she played everything right, she could have everyone under her thumb. Unbeknownst to Tal, her "mysterious" behavior took on the form of being extremely annoying for everyone else, for mortals that act in her fashion tend to be pains and are not well tolerated with the dead crowd.

"She's getting on my nerves. Can we kill her?" Xigbar asked so casually it was as if he was asking about the weather, all the while scratching his chin with no real purpose other than appearing totally nonchalant. Tal's smirk faltered. He couldn't be serious, Tal reassured herself. Actually, could any of them kill; I mean they were invented by Disney. They were harmless in truth, right?

"No. If we do anything to her, I would much prefer we experiment on the vessel. Make use of it until it's destroyed." Vexen stated eyeing Tal like one eyed a bug under a microscope; utterly cruel and fascinated. She couldn't help but step back under Vexen's gross old man stare. Fear nestled its way into her chest cavity, and for the first time she had to admit; she was scared. This was not going the way she thought it would. These men were not Organization she read about in fan fictions, or watched in videogames. They were actually serious about what they were doing.

A black portal appeared, and for the first time Tal didn't want to know who it would be walking out of that portal for as far as she knew these people were actually crazy, but her wish wouldn't be granted and soon enough the creator of the portal did walk through. Pulling off his hood, it was none other than Saix, the berserker. His eyes narrowed on Tal's withdrawing figure.

"You Girl. Xemnas wants you." Saix stated before a savage grin morphed his neutral face into a rather terrifying image. It was at this moment Tal's body formed its own consciousness, and her body slid between two of the black clad figures and she jumped out the window.

"Stop her!" Saix's voice faded as the air rushing past Tal deafened her ears. She couldn't help but notice that she couldn't see any bottom. For all she knew she could be falling for eternity. And die falling, not landing, falling.

(1): When I was 15 I begged my parents to purchase the aforementioned Fullmetal Alchemist bag. It's not the most comfortable bag to carry around either. Now I use it in principle for making them buy it for me. Luckily since the most college students have no idea what FMA is so I don't have to explain my bag to prying eyes (because non-anime lovers think it's weird to have anime merchandise -go figure).

Updated 1/25/10 I re-edited the entire story courtesy of my spell check program. Thank you Microsoft, I love you too.