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I’m just amusing myself with the idea that Furiosa introduced the forehead to forehead thing to the War Boys.
Maybe after her first run on the War Rig she’s so pumped up, she’s done it, they shook off the Buzzards, it feels like her whole body is still roaring with the growl of the engines and the bellow of the horn and the sheer adrenaline of it, her crew was fantastic, she chose well, she is so high with it.
So she jumps down from the cab when they’re back at the Citadel and Ace comes up to report and she grabs him and lightly conks their foreheads together in a half remembered greeting. And Ace is like ‘…the fuck?’ but she is grinning and clearly pleased with him so obviously this is the highest sign of approval and honour you can be given by an Imperator.
So the War Rig team starts doing it, and since they are the Most Elite Team among War Boys, soon the others start imitating the gesture. And because they’re War Boys it becomes more of a slightly competitive conking of heads than the tender forehead press the Vuvalini do, but that is the story of how the War Boys started butting heads.
I mean I mean I MEAN
Ace is like… touched by the Imperatorially Blackened Forehead? Being given some of that status grease on his forehead? Being grinned at from up close by an Imperator who is practically vibrating with Yes!Good!YouRock! feels?
Talk about stuff that inspires loyalty
I just. Can you imagine Ace just standing around a little stunned and not quite knowing how to process it? And the rest of the crew is like looking at him too and Furiosa’s already moving through them still vibrating with energy and headdaps and shoulder pats they’re looking at him for guidance and Ace is like almost angry when he goes up to the nearest Boy and slams their foreheads together because, “Well??!”
And the War Boys whoop with it, moshes together in a pile of limbs, and Furiosa’s finds herself pretty much crowdsurfing. The sounds of their celebration bangs against the heights of the Citadel like its carving out space for her in the rocks.
I’m just imagining Ace after a halflifetime of Very High Up Joe giving kind of conditional distant approval and always knowing Joe would be more pleased if he died for him… he gets this. He gets the new Imperator, spilling over with energy and approval, touching him like that, completely unfiltered. She has to go onto her toes and pull his head down a little and she does not care, she is 20 feet tall and bulletproof in that moment and in her War Boys’ eyes forever after.
(I was totally daring you)(somebody please write me some smut about the adrenaline filled aftermath of this moment)(with adorable sacked out puppy pile afterward)(and communal protectiveness of the Imperator)(Making sure nobody hogs her blanket)(You don’t get to sleep next to her Morsov you kick like a twitchy pup)(and Furiosa kind of limp and glowing and smiling indulgently as they fuss)
So we’ve either been reading the same kinkmeme prompts or that was your prompt which means I should tell you that I was one of the replies saying ‘yes plz’.
And gosh, I’m not writing smut at work.
But listen though, like the first night, that first time, none of them even ends up in their bunks and it’s not what you think; they’re in the meal halls still.
They’re in the meal halls and they’re handing each other food and passing down plates like catching a body falling from tumbling like hand meeting hand to swing away from wreckage and they’re all endless words, endless revisiting of that run, what would be done better faster more, more modifications to their lances, more maneuvers to practice, is there a better way to get a lance for you, is there a better position for our flamer, is there a better allocation for the bullets…
“I don’t think I saw our Imperator miss once.”
And their tables roared and hands slapped tables and aqua-cola was lifted high and splashed about like chrome.
Little by little, the night grew long and
the mess hall emptied of all but them. Their
stories grew softer, grew quiet, and almost secret like Witnessing that they shouldn’t have the right to have. Three tables became crammed into one, spilled ontop and across the floor of the table where Furiosa held court. No one wanted to leave.
But War Boys run dry eventually too and they drooped from the table to puddle around each other on the ground, like the half-acknowledged memories of their War Pup piles. (They shouldn’t be, they shouldn’t–)
“Look at this lot,” Ace huffed at his Imperator, the both of them remain hunched at the table.
“I’ll need to get them up in the morning.” Furiosa murmured.
Ace knew that if the Boys were found here by the morning crew, they’d hear no end of it.
It makes something skitter in his stomach to realize that she’s watching over them, still (like swallowing something alive).
“I’ll keep you company then,” Ace says, and raises his cup.
She smacks her’s against it, gently, like heads meeting.
