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put this here too, Hannibal Chau knife c;

i love makin these tattoo ideas

#tattoo #pacific rim #boneslums #butterfly knife #balisong #flowers #kaiju #cult #my art

Psst!

Who wanted some Kaiju stickers?

Cause I made a shop.

#pacific rim #pacrim #stickers #and also tshirts #kaiju groupie #hannibal chau #boneslums #my art #shop stuff

"They don't get to decide who you are. No one but you gets to decide who you are." / wade, an expert on the subject--

WEAPONS DONT WEEP. | @boneslums

what bucky is, is ruin.

bloodshed, gore, death, and little more. a green army toy, a GI joe doll, flexible joints, life-like, get one today--his life concentrated into posters and films, biopics about captain america's sordid history, some that turned him into an unfortunate martyr of war, victimized and abused by it's absolute desolation. look, a jewish historian would say some years later, bucky barnes was a victim and a survivor, not a monster. never again means all of us. his life was spent in atonement, his actions acrostics and mitsvah. he was, he is , a hero.

all bucky sees is the other side of it--the oceans of loss, the devastations of families and blood lines. nothing was so succinct as swallowing history whole, and spitting out only piths. barnes stares at the monument before them: their respective halls of shame (some stupid illusory shit--digging into their brain matter, finding all the switches, seeing what buttons and lights chirped and clicked in response) feed out into a shared atrium.

here is his monstrousness laid bare. the graves are packed rows, without identifying headstones. love letters to catastrophe, the endless miles of blackened grass (if wade sniffs, he'll discern it's origins: saltpeter, basalt, ignition fluid, the burning treads of a tank) streaking red, weeping seemingly from a marble carving. it's simple and poignant: the bleeding monument lists names, and nothing else. rows and rows of names. they go back chronologically, the final etching a pair of german siblings. bucky stares at it, furling his prosthetic fingers into his equally still palm. for once, wade says absolutely nothing, perhaps quieted by the scene he's faced with, or the impossible atlas weight that pins bucky's shoulders down.

finally, deadpool breaks the bone silence. oh... man, he whispers, mouth full of a sticky kind of remorse, like he wants to cradle bucky's fragile parts, or maybe like he has something meaningful to say. bucky doesn't rise to it, and doesn't agitate, fixated on the literal monument of his crimes.

the lives he's taken.

every death. every murder. every state sanctioned killing, every assassination, every frightened thrust of a knife or perfectly aimed headshot.

there are over five hundred names carved into the fine marble, slick and scarlet now where this nonsensical vein bleeds. every line is different, compacted, but simultaneously the same: name after name after name, all of varying backgrounds. a host of dead nazis and collaborators flow into american soldiers, italian, japanese, a frenchman or two. algerian revolutionists. political enemies. a chinese scientist. itsu howlett, one says. swiss engineers. celebrities. presidents. politicians. weapons developers. loose ends. insurgents. jack monroe.

bucky reaches out, laying his gloved digits upon the placard. this twisted mockery of a remembrance monument drove thorns into barnes, opening wounds thought healed in a single instant. he pulls his palm away, finding it stained a thick and malevolent, accusatory red; furling his fingers into the meat only smears the ruby stain and runs it dense over his skin, leaking right through the leathers. bucky flinches, hard, when wade employs a delicate touch to his shoulder, as if to rend him from whatever's gripped him. memory. guilt. a cruel combination, tearing through his center to split his soul into two distinct parts: bucky and the soldier, one and the same.

hey--hey. buck. fuck this dumbass cocomelon mind game bullshit, okay? and, and this shitty--oooh, look at you two, you're so bad. alright? they don't get to decide who you are. no one but you gets to decide who you are. and it ain't this.

the glance out of barnes' peripherals portrays, just for a moment, his capacity to perpetuate this accusatory violence. he looks like he might hunt and tag and devour wilson whole, for half a second and half a second alone; wade gives him a pat he thinks is meant to be reassuring, awkwardly taking bucky's bloodied hand to wipe the red off on a congruent, equally red part of wade's suit. it wets into the fibrous pores, the rest bronzing off on bucky's hand.

see. lookatdis. i think that's what the kids call symbolic imagery--or was that a leitmotif? no, no... it just comes off. it didn't turn your skin pink or stick like a thanksgiving dinner spoonful of cranberry sauce. whatever you're feeling right now--what you've been doing is what washes the blood away. hell, let me take some'a it. see? now it's mine, too.

bucky tugs his hand away, albeit not cruelly, despite some resistance. his breath peters out in a guttering exhale.

' lets just go. '

#boneslums #RESPONSE.#PROMPT.#whatever i. WHATEVER

" it's okay you can say it , everyone always thinks it . " cherri replies , the LAST thing she wanted to do was be treated like she was made of some delicate porcelain material. " got enough of that shit from my parents , why do ya think that I left home ? " She's not afraid , hell , she's loaded with a weapon yes , but she's also defenseless and she knows that if he pulled a weapon on her , she'd be fucked. But she wasn't afraid.

But if she can make friends in strange places , it could benefit her in the long run , keeping her afloat for one more day.

" ya ain't the first guy I followed that's got more than a few targets on his back , I know my fair share of the streets too. keeps me alive some of the stuff they sell around there. "

" also I ain't no kid , I can bring a lot to the table , choose to believe that or not. I've survived this long , haven't I? "

@boneslums from here

#boneslums #hiii!!!

she was used to finding people passed out in the alleyways ( it was where she frequented after all.... ) you were bound to meet some interesting people , and this here wasn't out of the ordinary. Cherri could barely keep herself up , ( with the combo of having to run to flee the local shopkeeper for her breakfast and the rain that seemed like it didn't want to stop , her body really hated everything about living right now )

But , at least she wasn't in this guys' shape. Shifting herself so her back is against the wall , she begins the ironic act of lighting up a cigarette.

" that there looks like shit. " she would say.

@boneslums

#BONESLUMS #LMK IF THIS IS OK!!!