#Chrome just a sweet doof

[friendlyfoxpal]

What's Up?

Joke that came up that i had to draw with me babs Chrome and Poppy

[husbando-collector-sanctuary]

Commandant Noir and Chrome Headcanons.

Lee and Kamui set the precedent for romantic relationships. They all start off not being able to comprehend the concept of romantic love, much less intimacy. Lee still says he can't comprehend love, despite his willingness to die for his boyfriend. But his blossoming relationship with Kamui guides Chrome and Noir.

Noir gave up on finding a partner because he feels as though he left his family to die, and his mother programmed him to believe he's unworthy of love. The idea of having a romantic relationship evaded Chrome because of his life as a Construct in an apocalyptic world.

But once they see how deeply in love Lee and Kamui are, the two of them carefully but happily approach the idea of being something more than friends. They're kind to each other. They're open, honest and sweet towards each other.

Noir and Chrome are just as much in love as Lee and Kamui. If a grump like Lee can be an incredibly sweet boyfriend, then Noir figures he can at least try to be one to Chrome.

Who confesses first? Chrome.

Who kisses first? Noir. Kisses Chrome for the first time during a battle, seeing a gravely wounded Chrome fall

Who's the most romantic? They're both equally clumsy doofs that dote on each other.

[livia-lerynn]

30 Days of Fic, Plus the Ones I Was Too Damn Tired: Day 18

Songs: The Wastelander who finds three connections between these songs and outbound favorite movie shall ride eternal, shiny and chrome.  

https://open.spotify.com/track/0kNlZyr6zHVZuadBh7rKZ7?si=ZnT_zXUfSv-TcbaLeR4fqQ

https://open.spotify.com/track/1DWRaY7hsOAxYtevhXrWNv?si=p3trCJeOQ86eAPTkEiHy8A

https://open.spotify.com/track/7FNIEfhhBlzsZFxCwI5Nwh?si=HoYipqtBQs6WB-hhXHgGoQ

What is it?” Nux cautiously lifts the lid of one of the small trunks. He gets a peek of some kind of tiny arm cradled beside a smooth, round surface.

Slit snaps the box closed.  “I found it; I get to open it.”

“If by find you mean stalled to pick it up, making me have to save your ass….”

“I had to pick it up – else you would have tripped over it.”

They are safely above ground, waiting for the word to move out.  The Imperator is making rounds, surveying everyone’s loot.  The best finds will be identified and presented directly to the Immortan himself.  

“We both found it,” declares Nux, “Whatever it is.”  

Nux opens the other trunk they’d picked up from the same room.  It’s about the same size as the first, but it’s oriented the opposite way.  Inside are sleeves of once-stiff paper each with a round, rigid object inside.  On the sleeves are a variety of pictures and words, some he recognises, some he doesn’t, and some he thinks he does, but the context is all wrong.  

“Eyes up!”  Slit smacks him in the head so he will jerk up in time to solute the approaching Imperator.  

The sleeve in Nux’s hand falls to the ground.  A man stares up at him, a man dressed in pure white and dazzling chrome despite its age.  His hair is a shock of black, and he wears a guitar slung over his shoulder.  Nux doesn’t recognise the world in bold, white letters, but he sounds it out.

“Good job, Boys.” Imperator Beemer says as bends to retrieve the sleeve, “You found the King?”

“The King?” Slit demands.  “What’s a king?”

“Chromest bloke ever to shine,” The Imperator says.  He peers at the round object inside the sleeve.  “I trust you got the player to?”

“We got this thing,” Nux offers.

“That, that’s the player.”  Imperator Beemer checks the first box as well.  He holds back a smile.  “We’ll give her spin once we get home.  You Boys are in for a treat.”

Nux spends the whole ride home wondering what the Imperator meant.  He keeps stealing glances in full moments at the two trunks he’s tucked behind Slit’s seat.  Sure, Slit claims they are in the way, but Nux knows they are important even if he doesn’t know why.  He just knows the Imperator said so, and there is nothing Nux loves so much as winning praise.  

Every moment of waiting after they arrive back at the Citadel is torture, but there is work to be done, inventories to be taken, dents to be buffed, and holes to be patched.  Everyone gradually releases the tension leftover from the run and eases into the evening rhythms of the Citadel.  Slop is served in the mess hall, and Nux goes to his usual table.  

“You ain’t nothing but a hound doggy, crying all the time…” sings a strange voice.

Nux looks up from his gruel.  Slit is quiet, as are the others around him.  He knows all their voices better than he does his own, and the voice singing belongs to none of them.  Slit and Nux both see Imperator Beemer approaching at the same time with a Pup pushing a cart behind him with the strange box atop.  It’s open now with the weird arm thing sticking out across one of the weird, black round thingies.  

“The King,” whispers Nux.

“You ain’t nothing but a hound doggy, crying all the time…”

Slit nods sharply, “And he’s singing about you.  You’re a rusty hound doggy, a whiny-ass smeg.”

Nux ignores him in favour of the “Na-na-na-na-na-na” of a snare drum that seems to be coming from the box as well.  He wonders how so many sounds fit in the box when the Doof Corps takes up a whole wagon.  

“Chrome, right Boys?” asks Imperator Beemer.  “I saw him once, Before, when I was barely a Pup.  He one of the Immorta, lives up in The Cloud now, the Cloud around Walhalla.”  As soon as the first song ends, he’s found another.  “Ah, 8, this one’s one of my favourites.”

“Lord almighty, I feel my temperature rising,” that voice croons, and the Imperator joins in.  

It’s a bright song, light, joyful, not much like what the Doof Corps usually plays.  Nux’s foot taps as the song rolls along, building in intensity.  A smile grows across his face

“Your kisses lift me higher, like the sweet song of a choir.  And you light my morning sky with burning love.”

“Chrome, eh Slit?” He asks without caring about the answer.

The other Boys seem to enjoy the music as well.  The Doof Warrior is clamouring onto a table, shaking his hips and swinging his arms as he goes.  

“I’m just a hunk-a-hunk-a burning love…”

Then Imperator Beemer shouts, “Hey, Doof, you got any Elvis in that jukebox brain o’ yours?” And Doof bangs an entirely different rhythm on his thighs and on the top of the table.  Then Beemer closes his eyes as he lifts  his arms and loses himself in the music: “A little less conversation, a little more action…”

Many days later, Nux will lie on his back, staring up at the sky as the last stars fade into morning.  His heart will race, not from night sweats but from the flame-coloured hair pooling on his chest.  He’ll try not to wake her as he stirs, but his lips will move with faint, breathy whispers: “I’m just a hunk-a-hunk-a burning love.  Just a hunk-a-hunk-a burning love.”