What to do when you meet a Fangirl
(Transcribed from Cybertronian by Starath)
Cybertron year 3225.843/ Year 4 AF (after Earthfall)
A Letter to my fellow Cybertronians, both present and future:
I write to you a first-hand account of an encounter I believe all Cybertronians should be prepared for. What I am about to document should be received in all seriousness despite the absurdity of the situation. I can assure you that it will not be a laughing matter if this happens to you as well.
Exactly two days ago I encountered a Human self-identified as a "fangirl". How she came to be in my presence is still under investigation, since she claimed to have "crossed realities" through space and time itself. Although I intend to unravel this mystery so it does not happen again, I consider this to be of little importance compared to the measures taken during her visit. Should you have the misfortune of meeting a fangirl, you have my sympathies. The following outlines my encounter and steps taken to control the situation.
Step 1: Investigate the problem.
Admittedly I was not the one who discovered the human first. At the time I was relaying orders to my loyal soldier, Inferno. Without warning he reacted to a projectile that connected with his head. I convinced him not to set the base ablaze by forcibly subduing him into stasis lock. Understandably aggravated by this occurrence, I searched for the source of the projectile, which had vanished. Quickstrike informed me that he had "seen something strange" behind one of the many boulders occupying the floor of the base. As I approached the boulder, I could see the young human crouched behind it, apparently eating something.
"A fleshing," I said, and motioned Quickstrike away from her. By this time my other crewmembers, Waspinator and Rampage, had come to see what was happening. Grabbing her by the back of her clothing, I lifted her up. She didn't notice at first; too busy writing in some primitive data storage device. I decided to get her attention.
Startled, she spat out a wad of white pulp into my face. While I wiped it away, she stretched to reach a yellow cloth lying by my feet. Quickstrike abruptly stopped laughing when I allowed him a share of the white mush. When I could see again, she had covered herself with the cloth. I removed it.
"What are you doing here, human?" I demanded.
Her reaction was not what I expected. She dropped everything and latched her arms around my neck. Her giggling hurt my audios.
"You're SO cute! I can't believe I'm finally meeting you!" She did not say these words properly. She squeaked them.
Step 2: Don't panic.
I am accustomed to many things. I am accustomed to harsh battle conditions, unexpected changes in my plans, and the unwavering idiocy of my troops. I am also used to commanding fear, or at least, grudging respect. Never in my lifecycle have I been assailed with such smothering…. sweetness. I believe this is a tactic used among all fangirls: Shocking the victim into inaction so they cannot be immediately dislodged.
This was particularly effective in my case, since the human's unexpected affection made me ill. I released her clothing, only to find her attached so firmly to my person that she hadn't released me as well. Around us, my troops lifted their weaponry, ready to fire on the enemy that had attacked their beloved leader. Naturally I did not like that course of action.
"No you fools, you'll hit ME!"
And predictably, Rampage neglected to see the importance of this, or more likely he did not care. He cocked his missile launcher. "So?"
Before I could reply, the human squeaked again. "Aw Megs, you're so cool! I could hug you forever!"
I did not like that idea either. Surely there was some way to remove this parasite without the use of firearms! She squeezed herself so tightly around me that I couldn't get leverage to pry her off.
"Let go of me!" I commanded, which made not one whit of difference.
"No! I'm gunna stay with you forever! Yeeee!"
I tried again, to no avail. "Let GO!" Panic mounted, increasing exponentially. It is very rare that I find myself at a loss for what to do, and so I logically did what anyone would do in this situation.
Step 3: Appear to lose all dignity and panic.
To do so I suggest screaming "GET IT OFF!" or something similarly degrading, while running around in said panicked state.
Step 4: Distract it with something shiny.
At some point during my attempt to escape the wretched fangirl, she fell off. At the time I did not care where or how, for I had already sought refuge in my chambers. Later I would learn that Waspinator (the only one who ceased laughing long enough to do anything worthwhile) had offered her a shiny piece of metal and lured her into a prison cell. Once secured, I felt safe enough to take a stasis nap to recover from the attack. My first mistake was thinking she had been secured. My second mistake was foolishly believing I was safe. Note: If you are even remotely in the area of a fangirl, you are not safe!
Nearly asleep, I registered the sound of my chamber doors opening. Ordinarily my troops announce themselves, or I hear their heavy footfall at least. I heard neither, and sat up.
The fangirl stood right next to my chair. "Hi!"
I have not flown that far off the ground without the aid of jet propulsion before. Although impressive, I'd rather not do so again because my head connected with the ceiling.
"How did you get out?" I roared.
She smiled. "Rampage."
Second note: If you have any among you seeking your destruction and/or general discomfort, kill them first.
Step 5: Reason with it.
I drew myself up. "Remove yourself from here immediately or I will flatten you, human!"
Again this created an atypical reaction. One would think that a threat coming from a much larger, more powerful being would convince the smaller one to flee. This is not true with fangirls. Her eyes became round, full of admiration.
"You're so cool! Howcome you didn't put 'yes' at the end of that sentence, though?"
Third note: Somehow they will know things about you despite your never encountering them before. In this case, the human was referring to one of my habitual speech patterns.
"Because I did not need to. OUT." When I reached to shove her to the door, she immediately attached herself to my arm. Even though I jerked my hand back, she remained attached.
"I want a hug!"
I lifted her so we saw optic-to-eye. "I don't do hugs," I growled. "Release me or I shall scrape you off on the side of my chair, yes."
Startled by my commanding tone, she let go and dropped to the floor. Her expression turned sulky. "Geez, you're no fun."
"What did you expect? And why are you so enamored with me anyway?"
"Because you're you!"
That did not tell me much of anything but the obvious. Of course I am worth admiring, but to this extent…? My experience with juveniles is limited, but I know enough to recognize when I am in the presence of a child. I reworded my query.
"Why do you want to terrorize me?"
"I'm not terrorizing you." She frowned. "Not on purpose. I just really like you, for a lot of reasons. I'm your fangirl. Fangirls… don't always act properly when confronted with their favorite person."
At last there was a name for this madness! A "fangirl": One who seeks to smother the object of affection to death, more bothersome than threatening.
"How did you get here?"
"I dunno. I just did. POOF!" She made a gesture like a miniature explosion. "I crossed realities, and I'm not about to question it. I get to be with you now."
Lucky me. "Look, as much as your appreciation is warranted, you do realize you are in the wrong time and place, you've humiliated me in front of my troops, and if you really annoy me I will be dropping you in the lava pits outside. So go HOME."
"How am I supposed to do that if I don't know how I got here?"
I suggest finding a suitable answer to that question because you will probably hear it too. At the time I had no answer.
Step 6: Bargain.
My metaprocessor had begun developing a severe pain by this time. "What must I do to get you to leave me be?"
"Is that an open-ended question?"
I made a note to choose my words more wisely in the future. Fangirls are not as stupid as they seem to be. "Within reason, yes."
"Can I have your rubber ducky?"
Simple things for simple minds, I suppose. "You can have as many as you want. Is that all?"
"I still want a hug."
"I said NO!"
She sighed. "Then I guess I'll just hang around and ask you what you're doing every five minutes. I'm really good at it. Or I can imitate a cling-on!" She raced for my leg.
It wasn't hard to dodge her, but I did not relish the thought of her admiration-induced grip making me sick again.
Step 7: Pacify it.
"Very well!" Her head fit into the palm of my hand when I held her at arm's length. "Stay here. I'll get you your slagging duck."
"Yaaay!" She squeaked, and the pain in my metaprocessor tripled.
It should be noted that she probably wanted my bath toy because she finds it endearing I have one in the first place. Be aware that any fangirl targeting you will probably want something of yours as well.
You are no doubt wondering why I decided to give her what she asked for. To be honest, I am not certain myself. Under normal circumstances, anything that irritates me this much is destroyed without second thought. I suspect fangirls have an influence over the mind, much like hypnosis. It is more likely that the victim is immediately conditioned to her whims simply to avoid another affection attack. However, all she will want is your attention, and if utilized properly this can be used to your benefit.
I returned with one of my rubber ducks and gave it to her. She inspected it as though I'd given her a prized artifact, and squeezed it hard enough for the poor thing to SQUEEEAK! in a most distressed manner.
"There. Now get out of my sight. Ask Inferno to show you how his flamethrower works, or something. Take a long walk off a short spacebridge while you're at it."
She tucked the toy under her arm. "Not until I get a hug!"
I growled at her and used my best glare. "Why are you so fixated on such a meaningless gesture? I care not for you, child, no."
"I'm not a kid! I'm fourteen! And it means something to me." She cuddled the duck, and liquid began leaking from her eyes. "It…. it's important. You're important."
This is the fangirl's most powerful tactic: The guilt trip. Do not be surprised when it works.
Step 8: Ignore it.
After you have given the fangirl what she wants, you may think this is enough to make her leave. It's not. Luckily humans are smaller than Cybertronians, and so it's not hard to pick one up and drop her somewhere else. Giving her further attention just encourages her behavior. If you find she is interested in others around you, take advantage of this immediately.
Step 9: Make it someone else's problem.
However, choose wisely when you leave her with someone. I chose my most loyal soldier, Inferno, thinking the two of them could keep each other occupied. They did— too well. Within ten cycles a hesitant knock came upon my chamber doors.
"What now?" I barked, wishing for nothing less than absolute silence.
The door cracked open. I could hear raised voices from another room. Quickstrike peered in. "Ah, Boss-Bot? You might wanna come fix this."
"Why me?" I grumbled, rubbing my optics.
"Cos yer the only one who's not laffin' right now." The idiot replied, unable to recognize a rhetorical question.
I found the fangirl in a heated argument with Inferno. The other Predacons watched what could be described as a verbal match of Pong. From what I could gather, the fangirl had attempted using a logical argument with Inferno, who is… not properly programmed to think logically. His manner of understanding things is dictated by his beast mode, a red ant. I have given up trying to correct it.
"All I want to know is why you call Megatron a "Queen" when he's not even a girl!" The fangirl said.
"Because he is the leader! All colonies have a queen!" Inferno had gotten good and riled by the time I arrived on the scene. For a moment I became a spectator as well, hoping he'd go ahead and set her on fire.
"But not all leaders are called "Queen". Queens are female. Megatron is not a female."
"He is leader of the colony, therefore he is Queen!"
"If anything, he's a King. You're using faulty logic."
"My logic is fine! You are not capable of understanding the structure of the colony, flesh creature!"
She sighed. "Then by your logic, because Megatron is leader of the Predacons, he is Queen, and therefore female."
"Tell me what a female looks like, Inferno."
"They are smaller. With higher voices. And… shapely, like the widow."
"Okay then." She gestured to me with dramatic flair. "By your own definition, does Megatron look female to you?"
I choked, aghast. "I beg your pardon?"
Waspinator fell from the air, convulsing in laughter. Quickstrike clamped his mouth shut—the mouth on his snake-hand, that is— and neglected to silence the real source of his laughter. Nearby, Rampage chuckled darkly. Inferno stared at me, obviously trying to work through this logical conundrum.
"The Queen is… not as shapely as he… she… could be…."
Rampage snorted. "Perhaps she needs to work out more often."
"Silence freak, she is beautiful!" He cried. "This is some Maximal trick to divide the loyalty of the colony! You will burrrrrn!"
And she would have, if she hadn't sought protection behind me. Inferno's flamethrower blasted a stream of fire. When it disbursed, I coughed a ring of smoke and wiped soot off my face. "IN-fer-NO!"
"My Queen! I did not mean to—" He backed away from me without paying attention to what was behind him. He promptly fell off the decking and landed in a heap the next level down. I seriously considered using him for spare parts when an idea struck me. A wonderful, delightful idea.
"Child," I said, turning around with my most sincere smile, "How would you like to meet the Maximals?"
She hugged her duck against her chest, eyeing me with uncertainty. "Is Depth Charge around yet?"
I pretended to think hard. "Why yes," I lied smoothly, "Yes, I do believe he is."
Step 10: Enjoy the silence.
Within a megacycle the fangirl was well on her way to the Maximal Base. Whatever happened there, I don't know. When the Omicron Security Officer known as Depth Charge landed here on Earth, he had a surprise waiting for him. I never saw the fangirl again.
Thus concludes my report on my encounter with a fangirl. The steps I recommend may not occur in chronological order as I have described here. Nonetheless I hope that any Cybertronian who has a similar encounter finds this useful.
Also, I would like to call attention to documents written by the first Air Commander Starscream of the Decepticon Aerial Fleet, which outlines numerous experiences paralleling my own. I recommend they be reviewed for factual information, despite the lack of credibility given to the author. I believe them to be more reliable than previously thought.