Fistful Of Metal

Talk fantasy prosthetics to me.

An elf maiden dances on feet of living wood sung into shape, planted in soil and watered when she takes them off. Every year she plants the old ones and sings a new pair. (Incidentally, the pair of peach saplings from three years ago have produced an excellent crop- She makes preserves from them, and despite the inevitable jokes about “toe-jam”, they are appreciated.)

A dwarf king has a metal fist, all tiny gears and fine wires, kept wound by a mischievous mine-spirit bound to the spring as punishment- the more it struggles, the tighter the spring. 

An orc chieftaness is regularly asked for the story of how she earned the name Wyrmthrottler- she boasts of how she strangled the dragon that ate her arm, and had her shaman make a new arm from its bones, with its fangs as the fingers.

A necromancer simply re-attached his old leg bones- Sacrificing a few mice each day keeps it going.

A pirate captain lost her arm to a shark attack: a passing selkie saved her, and gave her tattoos of kraken blood. Now she has an arm made of salt-water, that grows and wanes with the tides, and swings a cutlass as well as the original. (She doesn’t sail as far these days though: she doesn’t want her wife to worry.)

A wandering swordsman was broken at the waist- his ancestral armour allows him to walk again, as long as he keeps it polished, and burns incense to the ancestors regularly.

A high priestess has an eye made from a crystal ball- to predict the future, all she has to do is wink.

A bard was struck deaf by illness- he struck a deal with the god of music. Now he wears hearing-trumpets made from his old pipes, and dedicates his every song to the god of music- the better he plays, the better his hearing. (It is said his music could make statues weep, and he can hear a mouse fart at 60 paces.)

A princess has the arm of a golem, enchanted clay with mystic words carved in- her music tutor despairs of how her harp playing has become even worse, but her calligraphy tutor is ecstatic over her handwriting.

A goblin pickpocket has an arm made of whatever he steals- no-one feels his fingers, and even if they did, they couldn’t find their possessions amongst all the rest.  

A witch has eyes made from shadow and starlight, given to her in a game with a demon. Nobody dares to ask what she wagered- they aren’t even sure she won.

A warg was born deaf and blind- his people learned of his power when the nearest birds started staring at them, and dogs pricked up their ears as he walked past.


1984. Fistful of Metal

is the debut album by band Anthrax, and released in January. This is the band’s only album to feature Neil Turbin on vocals and Dan Lilker on bass.

Danny Lilker and Scott Ian had been the original founders of the band, but singer Neil Turbin fired Lilker shortly after the release of the album, and without Scott Ian’s permission. Lilker left, forming Nuclear Assault.

also Greg Walls was lead guitarist (who left for band Metal Church) Walls left Anthrax during the summer of 1983 after not receiving a writing credit for song “Panic”

Vocalist Neil Turbin had contributed songs ideas, lyrics, titles and arrangements to the majority of songs for the album.

The term “thrash metal” was used for the first time in the music press by UK’s Kerrang! journalist Malcolm Dome, while making a reference to the song “Metal Thrashing Mad”

Fistful of Metal is not Anthrax’s best album. It is a monument of speed/thrash, a monument of what teenage hormones and the will to do something that counts can do. Along with Kill ’Em All, Show No Mercy, Heavy Metal Maniac, Metal Church, Skeptics Apocalypse, Feel the Fire, and many others, it sets the tune for the great thrash metal and speed metal explosion in the mid ‘80s. Fistful of Metal is classic among these great albums,

   Neil Turbin     Dan Spitz     Scott Ian     Danny Lilker    Charlie Benante

*sciency ramblings about bucky’s arm with a bit of angst*

I made a gifset yesterday that highlighted Bucky’s nervous habit of clenching and unclenching his metal fist, right after Steve says “I need you to do better than ‘I don’t know’”. Later on in that scene, there’s a brief shot of him sitting, hunched over, and wringing both of his hands together.

Both of these instances say a lot about how much sensitivity the limb has, specifically in the fingertips; the technology is so advanced that it’s a part of him in the most literal sense, and he unconsciously treats it as such. 

The arm also has a clear sense of pressure and touch, as demonstrated in CA:TWS (that one scene with the tiny, round explosive device that everyone is fond of making gifsets of for really weird reasons) and CA:CW (he tests plums for ripeness by gently squeezing them). 

I’m guessing there are a ton of electrodes embedded in the internal mechanism, all of which allow him to control and manipulate the arm, recieve sensations of pressure, heat, cold, texture, etc. Whether he can feel ‘pain’ is debatable, considering he was able to use his metal arm as a brake along several feet of roadway, but there’s definitely got to be some sort of equivalent in order to warn him if he’s going to damage it–and it would take significant trauma in order for that to happen. In general though, his brain treats the prothesis like a real arm.

All this to say: getting the whole shebang ripped off at the shoulder joint by an arc reactor beam probably felt like he was losing his flesh arm all over again. Because it’s the same concept–all the signals that his brain was recieving from the prothesis are suddenly gone. Right after losing his arm, he passed out for several several minutes, and when he came to, he could hardly move, and if that doesn’t indicate severe pain, I don’t know what does.

I mean, think about it.  Bucky is one of those people who doesn’t go down easily. He spent 90% of his screentime in CA:TWS getting the crap kicked out of him, and hardly made a sound. As the Winter Soldier, he was taught to disregard physical damage to his body in order to complete the mission. That suicidal endurance isn’t going to go away. It’s as much a part of him as his arm was, and will permanently affect his combat behaviors. 

So when Bucky is physically unable to give any contribution to a fight beyond grabbing his opponent’s ankle, it’s a pretty good indicator that he’s Suffering™. 


Cas slams the brakes right behind the Impala and springs out of the car. He tries to keep calm, at first, as he knocks the door, waits a few moments for the response. But when no sound comes from the inside, he can’t stop his fist from banging against the metal.

Still nothing.

He pulls out his phone and dials Dean.

“I’m here,” he says as soon as he hears Dean’s voice. “Let me in.”

“Great. Didn’t see you coming.” Dean’s voice is calm, soothing Cas’s nerves like a balm. “I’m not inside.”

Cas shoots a glance to the black hood of the Impala, reflecting the golden glow of the moon.

“Where are you?”

“Look up.”

Cas tilts his head back like he expects Dean to fall from the sky and right into his arms.

“Cas!” comes Dean’s voice, not from the speaker, this time, but a distant call.

The angel runs up the stairs and back to the street. At the edge of the bunker’s roof, there’s Dean’s dark shape waving at him on the backdrop of yellow and blue sky, bright as if the sun already began to rise.

“Climb up the west side,” Dean instruct him and ends the call before Cas can warn him not to stumble.

Dean’s waiting for him as he reaches the roof.

“What’s wrong?” He scrutinizes Dean’s form wide-eyed. There are cuts and bruises on his face, his jacket is ragged, one sleeve nearly torn off, long lacerations on his jeans, the fabric covered in blood. “You’re hurt.”

Cas reaches out to Dean, fingers graze his bared collarbone. He mends the skin, blood vessels, muscle before Dean can open his mouth to answer.

“How’s Sam?”

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean flashes him a smile. “Sam’s much better than this, just a few bruises.”

“What happened? Did the werewolf–?”

Dean waves a hand. “Son of a bitch kicked our asses, the giant up there powered it up big time. But it’s been dealt with.”

Cas follows Dean’s eyes to the enormous, golden orb hanging in the sky, brightening it up with the borrowed light.

“Yes.” Cas nods. “Its position is the closest to Earth in sixty-eight years. Its influence on werewolves, humans, and other creatures is sure to be strengthened.”

“Yeah, we figured that much.”

“I’ll go take care of Sam,” Cas says, starting towards the ladder, but Dean stops him with a hand on his wrist.

“Wait, Cas. I didn’t call you to heal our ouchies. We’ve both had worse.”

Cas cocks his head to the side, his brow furrows. “Then why did you call me? You sounded anxious.”

He steps closer, turns Cas around towards the gigantic moon.

“I wasn’t anxious. I was excited. A little,” Dean adds with a lopsided smile. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh,” Cas huffs as Dean presses his arm along his.

Dean’s eyes are fixed on the moon, but Cas turns his head in a different direction. To the green that has turned golden, to the irises that became two reflections of the brilliant satellite.

“Sorry, it was stupid I had you drive all the way here,” Dean mutters, taking Cas’s stare for indifference.

But it’s not indifference. The phenomenon named by people “Supermoon” is truly gorgeous and rare in human standards. Cas, as an angel, has seen it thousands of times during his existence, from every possible place on Earth. He saw what he should probably call a “Superearth” too, from the surface of the silver globe.

“Don’t be,” Cas replies, softly, not to disturb the quiet of the moment.

It’s not that he’s not interested in admiring the supermoon. It’s just that there’s something else he’d rather admire. Something just as unreachable.

He dares, for just a heartbeat, to brush the back of Dean’s palm with his own where they hang between them and Dean doesn’t shy away.

Cas smiles. “I wouldn’t want to miss this.”


Chapter Five “Safe”

SUMMARY: You were held captive by Hydra for years and had only just escaped when the Avengers find you. You’re beyond terrified of everyone and everything around you, but the thing the terrifies you the most is yourself. The things you can do with your “abilities” are beyond what anyone could possibly imagine. 

Chapters: ~ 1 ~ 2 ~ 3 ~ 4 

Originally posted by natpekis

@i-love-bucky-barnes @nopevilleluas @winter–plum @poe-also-bucky @serzhantjamesbuchananbarnes @life-is-fuucked @emilyinbuffalo @buckybarnesisalittleshit @theboldandthebootyful @dr121413 @buckysquad @smartashes @notsoprettykitty @romxnovas @tjhammomd @linsteadandchicagopdarelife @justareader @whatsbetterthanfantasy @nikkitia7 @intenselyupset @thenightmarebeforebucky @sebatmanstan @feelmyroarrrr @dazedandcarefree @fly-f0rever @skeletoresinthebasement @colouredwater @cierrabolton @hotemotionalmess @lady-sloan @avixenrose @captainmqmeep @professionally-crazed @ponyboys-sunsets @abimarvelparker @buckysbestgirll @buckybarnesisapreciousplum @sarcastic-ohohoh @notsoluckybucky @angel34jolly-blog @kitherey @heismyhunter @steadysuitenthusiast @bxckybxrnes02

“She’s never going to trust us if we keep locking her up!” Bucky exclaimed, banging his metal fist on the wooden table, unable to tear his eyes away from the monitor that showed your small form curled up in the corner of the glass room. Your forehead was pressed against the surface, breath fogging up the glass with every exhale, and the distant and sad look in your eyes tugged at his heartstrings.

“We don’t have a choice! She’s dangerous!” Tony objected.

“She’s scared!”

Keep reading

  • Steve: I'm sorry, Tony. But he's my friend.
  • Tony: So was I.
  • Bucky: *angrily slams metal fist on the table*
  • Bucky: Did you rescue his skinny ass from alleys when he decided to stand up against another bully?
  • Tony: ...
  • Bucky: Did you work two shifts at the docks just to buy him some fancy art supplies?
  • Tony:
  • Bucky: Did you gladly kill like an animal during the war just to prevent him from doing the dirty work and being corrupted?
  • Bucky: Did you cuddle with him at night for body heat when he got pneumonia?
  • Tony:
  • Bucky: Did you showered naked together hundreds of times without a hint of awkwardness?
  • Tony: Wait
  • Bucky: Did you ever suck his dick so good he got weak at the knees and you had to support 220lbs of super soldier on your shoulders?
  • Tony: What???
  • Steve: Buck!
paladin aesthetics

lance: a kiss on the cheek, knowing who’s walking through your house by the sound of their footsteps, bandaids, butterflies in your stomach, fingers tapping on a tabletop, sitting in someone’s lap, the smell of sunscreen, crooked smiles, thunderstorms, the collective groan following a bad joke

hunk: the soft bubbling of boiling water, clenching shaky hands into fists, metal clanging against metal, tight hugs, pinky promises, wind sweeping through a field of grass, the way a warm meal feels in the back of your throat, staying up late to talk to a friend, running your palm over the notches of a tree stump

pidge: the tap-tap-tap of a keyboard, looking outside your window during an all-nighter and seeing the sunrise, standing on tiptoes to reach something, whistling, socked feet on hardwood floors, tilting your head, taking something apart, the hard grin of someone who’s being underestimated, a photograph worn at the edges

keith: your stomach dropping to your toes, cracking knuckles, waking up from a dream you don’t remember, wanderlust, the glint of a knife tucked out of sight, stiff leather, the quiet camaraderie of a shared look, a tug in your gut, bright laughter, jumping in surprise when you notice someone standing next to you

shiro: falling asleep after a long day, the feeling of having everyone’s eyes on you, lips twitching up, raising an eyebrow, the way your heart warms up when someone you love succeeds, tracing scars, a hand on a shoulder, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, standing up after scraping your knees