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Behold, the #LordHumungus! #Detail of a #MadMax #painting I did on #pencils by the #talented @enzogarza. #RoadWarrior #Movies #GeorgeMiller #Mask #FanArt #TerminalCrazy #ArtExhibit #InstaArt #Illustration #Photoshop #Wacom #DigitalPainting #BarbariansOfInstagram #EnzoGarza #SamJRoyale
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terminalcrazy replied to your post “I’m so sorry I almost shot you.”
YOU CAN IF YOU SAY YOU'RE SORRY????
will you stOP POINTING YOUR GUN IN MY DIRECTION
“I’m so sorry I almost shot you.”
Cabin in the Woods
She is shaking. Who wouldn't after almost getting shot? What even is wrong with this guy? And what exactly did she ever do?
"Are you out of your mind?"
“Give me the gun. Now.”
SENTENCE STARTERS
he should listen. impatience lit a voice he’d heard only doused in caution and reservation. one he didn’t think capable of issuing commands, and following orders was what he did. it’s what he knew. ( he could bend ) --- but he doesn’t. and his head shook, hands fastening around it even firmer, and he’s not looking down the muzzle at max. it’s not who he stole the bullet for. who he meant to bury it in. “ he wants to kill me. ”
“ GO ON, SAY IT AGAIN. ”
he motions the gun toward the blonde, a daring in his words, a sullen bite to them, and takes a staggered step. “ i should kill ‘im first. bet he wouldn’t be so smart with a hole in his head. ” he could. he would. he should. ( but he turns his back to max, so he can’t ) knows the other man’ll stop him, but for a second it feels nice to have power. to be the one making the decisions. lowly half life. but with a gun between them it didn’t matter how short his life span, cause none of them lived full lives on the fury road.
she smells like grease & smoke, it’s so thick in his nostrils he almost chokes on it. there’s a phantom with a tight grip on his throat, he can’t breath, she’s whispering in his ear about home. whispering in his ear about being some kind of savior like her. but he wasn’t cut from that cloth & the weight of that responsibility makes him beg. he tells her his name, like that will keep her grasp on him from going limp, but it doesn’t. she’s lost too much blood, he thinks he hears a voice say & his brain lights up like a switch board. (be careful with that one, he’s a universal donor) it’s an echo from the past, but it swells something dangerous in his heart. hope. he’d kept the coiled tubing on his shoulder this entire time, a transfusion never something he could have predicted, but here he was; on his hands & knees praying to some god that had abandoned this parched earth to self-destruction years ago. praying for a chance to keep something good from dying, praying for the world to finally prove to him that it was more than a cruel sandbox of blood & pain. he’s willing to give her everything. every drop of blood in his body. all she has to do is survive & he can let go of this wretched existence. the engine continues to roar across the sand, all eyes on furiosa, but she doesn’t move. he closes his eyes against the reality, the pain in his chest feels like a gunshot, a consumption, a burning sort of pain that spreads out from his heart & over his skin. “max.” her voice rings as clear as a bell & his eyes snap open, but all he sees is pale skin. “180 days of salt max.” he shakes his head. eyes burning with unshed tears, palms coming up to press against them. the other voices echo in behind hers, filled with blame, filled with the terrible truth of his life. hope was a mistake.
MY MUSE IS DEAD. TELL ME HOW YOURS IS DEALING WITH IT.
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terminalcrazy
❛ Sorry about your dog freakin’ out-- all animals seem to hate me... I reckon I’m cursed. ❜
✦
✦ Has your own interpretation changed from when you first began playing the character?
Absolutely. At first I had absolutely no clue what I was doing. She was just a really pissed off muse who thought everyone was dumb and kind of just queen bitched everywhere. Now, though, I have actual intention behind her snark.
