mech fans are so funny. what if there was a guy who was normal and doing just fine
Guy with the worst BO you ever smelled cheerfully slapping the shoulders of a quivering traumatized mess crawling out from under watching two dozen people melt into reusable plastic slurry, he’s like, “Dang! Hot in there, huh! You’d think they’d spring for decent A/C. Welp, catch you on the flip flop!”
I picture him as the golden retriever emotional support animal of some squad of fucked up trans pilots, like the sweat becomes practically comforting because no matter what happens this one guy is so unfailingly mentally stable that anyone can hang onto him for as long as they need. He makes nachos and does movie nights with a projector in the big bay while the other pilots are all piled up on him, and he has the worst taste in movies, it’s so bad, and he loves them and says “this is the best part” about ten times per film, but the other pilots aren’t even annoyed, it’s like a cat purring.
Sometimes on leave they hit up local bars and it’s one big beefy dude surrounded by a crowd of the hottest people in the room. He’s like a damn sheepdog to this gaggle of pilots half of whom are fully dissociated at any one time, fake dating everyone and real dating no one in the squad because he’s so painfully normal about sex he thinks you can’t do that sort of thing. Once in a blue moon a bar patron or rando may get a little handsy, too familiar and he like sidles up and says, friendo for your own good I think you want to take about four steps away, because she’s about to tear your face off.
He’s too cheerful to stand, but also that annoying af back slapping comradery reminds you that you’re alive and grounds you to something concrete enough to make it another day in the corp.
I hope no one is imagining this guy is skinny. He’s fat and awesome.
