Rise Up, Oh Heart, For There is Another Battle to Win

Having trolled some of the AO3 Fury Road tag, I’ve learned something interesting.

I am AGGRRESSIVELY here for everything involving Max and Furiosa.

I like them best as Epic Lifelong Drift-Compatible Postapocalypse Badass Bros.  They are the BroTP to end all BroTPs.  But hey.

Aromantic casual sex buddies who snark and spar?  I’m down, let’s go, I’m so down with that shit.

Asexual partners who drive around and sleep next to each other because it makes them feel safe?  Give it to me.

Soul mates in every way, sexual, romantic, practical, all of the above, who cobble together a slapdash system for running the Citadel and work through their issues?  Hell yeah, hELL FUCKING YEAH.

Long-suffering pseudo-parents to the Wives (who ship it like FedEx) and the War Boys (who worship both of their badassery in a much more healthy way than they worshipped Joe)?  I AM READY.

Witness me becoming absolute trash.

A PSA about how Moran is absolute trash

The other night I had a dream that there had been some kind of apocalyptic disaster and everyone was running around trying not to die and my glasses had been lost.  I am a goddamn mole–I can barely see six inches in front of my face.  So dream-me sort of accidentally rebuilt society during the Epic Search for Prescription Lenses.  I literally had a dream about rebuilding a post-apocalypse society just so I could have a pair of glasses, and the horrifying part is that it’s actually something I would do.  Like “yeah, I’m sorry that the apocalypse happened and all, but come on, guys, priorities.”

This has been a PSA about how Moran is absolute trash.