#on a side note wheres that 'anime eyes are too complex i super imposed a bowl of ramen & it looked good' post

[red-dyed-sarumane]

my favorite art thing is putting little hearts in eyes. i'll put in other shapes too if it fits the theme better ive done x's & diamonds too but i love putting hearts the most. theres just something about it

[lemonbarnes]

Burnout

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

Summary: As the first successful test subject, she’s learned how to live without being burned. Years later, her savior-turned-psycho is dead, yet someone has gotten a hold of the formula in an attempt to recreate the virus. She takes on the role of a self-imposed vigilante, but soon ends up working alongside the Avengers, and a certain hard headed brunette with luscious locks and a gleaming arm.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: arson, violence (that’s all i can think of, but if there’s anything else please let me know!)

Author’s Note: This is the first part of a series that I: 1) have not finished, 2) debated posting, and 3) am very anxious about posting. It’s coming together very slowly, but I wanted to post the first part and see if anyone is intrigued. Feedback is always welcome. Likes and reblogs are always very much appreciated!

Deep in the snow-covered forest of Norway is where Bucky finds himself, trudging through the impacted white powder with Steve and Sam. It’s only the beginning of November, and Bucky is sure he’s experienced colder, but the chill nips at his flesh nonetheless; settles in underneath his thick coat sleeves and pulls goosebumps to the surface. Perhaps it wasn’t just the cold; it was oddly quiet in this part of the forest. It should be teeming with wildlife, but Bucky has yet to hear anything other than the crunch of snow and their short breaths. The silence is deafening, but he welcomes it. Until…

“What exactly are we doing again?” Sam gripes, his breath creating his own personal cloud before dissipating into the chilly air. Bucky surveys the area, but only produces the same results he came up with five minutes ago – nothing but their presence and the trees that surround them from every angle. Steve doesn’t glance at Sam as he continues walking, also taking note of the lack of animals in the vicinity.

“We’re here to extract the girl and bring her back to the compound. Tony said the last time he saw someone with… talents like hers was when Pepper was taken by AIM. Thinks she might know something about that lab blowing up a couple weeks ago, before we got there.” It’s Bucky’s turn to huff. Why did they have to walk through the forest while the rest of the team huddled up on the warm quinjet miles away? Was it really necessary to trek the 134 miles into the woods to reach the cabin? Why was Tony so sure that this was where you settled down? His head snaps up and he sticks his hand out, simultaneously freezing in place while sticking a finger up to tell Steve and Sam to be quiet. “Do you hear that?” He whispers, so low that he’s not even sure Steve hears him at first.

The chorus of a soft song plays behind a softly crackling fire. A feminine voice reaches Bucky and Steve’s ears, quietly humming along to the tune. Either this chick wanted to be found or is an idiot, Bucky snorts to himself before quickly focusing his attention back on his teammates.

Steve motions for the two to move in closer. “Sam, get Redwing up. Get us an idea of what and who we’re dealing with. Just because we only hear one person right now doesn’t mean there aren’t more people in the cabin,” he takes a moment as the inconspicuous drone zips through the air.

Bucky can only describe the look on Sam’s face as perplexed at best. “What’s wrong, bird brain?” A glare is briefly sent his way by none other than Sam, before he returns to his previous state of confusion. “There’s only one human heat signature, but the temp it’s reading at isn’t possible. There’s no way,” his brow furrows. Steve and Bucky exchange an equally confused glance.

“What do you mean, Sam? What’s it reading at?” A moment of silence passes before Sam looks up from the mini monitor adorning his arm. “152 degrees, Cap,” Sam flashes his wrist at the super soldiers before lowering his arm. “Well, I guess Tony wasn’t far off, was he? A literal human inferno,” he mumbles under his breath as Redwing zooms back to its owner. Bucky only dignifies his statement with a concealed eye roll. “What’s the plan?” 

“Alright, what do we know?” Tony paces at the front of the conference room, suit discarded for his spare set of clothes. One hand sits in the pocket of his track pants, while the other scratches his chin. Everyone else sits at the table, soot drenched suits still clinging to their bodies. “Killian’s dead. Hansen is dead. Extremis is extremely complex, but that doesn’t negate reason to believe that others have figured the virus out and are trying to recreate it,” Tony mumbles to himself, before stopping and placing his hands on the table firmly. “That facility blew up for a reason, whether good or bad is up to us to figure out.” 

Everyone’s brow furrows at the mention of Extremis. “Extremis? I thought you took down AIM,” Natasha pipes up, eyes narrowing in disbelief. 

A heavy sigh leaves Tony’s mouth before he sits and runs his hands down his face. “Yeah, I thought so too. Wannabes, maybe trying to replicate the virus. I don’t know. They were close, though. I saw it in one of the labs before it blew up.” 

“I’m sorry, but can someone fill the rest of us in?” Sam looks exasperated. “What the hell is Extremis?” 

Extremis, he learns, is its own super soldier-like serum. “It’s a virus that rewrites DNA to manipulate the part of the brain that is in charge of reparations and stimulate growth at inhuman speeds. I’m talking ‘cut off an arm and literally watch it grow back’ fast,” Bruce now stands at the front of the table, filling everyone else in. “AIM would mainly recruit veterans who had lost limbs or had severe psychological trauma and inject them with the virus. However, Extremis is very unstable, and most if not all of the people who were infected with it blew themselves up and died. Of course, with the exception of Tony and Pepper. Tony found a way to stabilize it enough that Pep doesn’t have any side effects of it,” Bruce finishes before glancing Tony’s way.

It’s Wanda’s turn to ask, “So… We think that someone is trying to emulate Extremis? If they know it’s so unstable, then why bother?” Tony bites the frame of his glasses before putting them back on and sitting back in his chair, fingers now scratching at his greying beard. “Human bombs. Life-sized, 3000 degree, exploding, unstable bombs that disintegrate anything within a 12.5 yard radius of them and damn near destroy anything else beyond that radius. They’re not trying to create super soldiers, they’re trying to blow things up.

“Up until now, we figured there weren’t any survivors of AIM’s experiment, but now? Now, I’m not so sure. We can assume that either Hydra got a hold of the formula or that someone is trying to dig AIM up from its grave and bring it back to life. What did concern me was this,” Tony brings up a hologram image of a woman running from the lab mid-explosion, skin and eyes tinged a fiery orange. “Whoever it is has the virus. Realistically there’s no way we can bring her in. She’ll melt through any form of handcuffs we try, burn through any kind of straight jacket we try. Hell, she’d probably be able to burn through the floor of the quinjet if she wanted to.”

Bruce lights up as he sits straighter. “Not necessarily. We could find someone to make us equipment out of tungsten. She would explode before she melted them off. It’s a little brittle, but nothing we can’t work with. And we could try out that sedation serum we’ve been working on. Load it into some small vials that Clint could shoot.”

Steve leans forward against the table, shield now at his side. Natasha shakes her head before speaking, exhaustion heavy in her voice. “Say we do bring her in. Then what? Recruit her? Lock her up for the rest of her life? We have to be realistic about the consequences of this, Tony. If she’s really as dangerous as you say she is, then we need to proceed with extreme caution.” Steve’s furrowed brow matches that of Bucky’s and Sam’s, who have both been virtually silent the whole meeting, save for Sam’s question.

“Why don’t we all go take a hot shower and clean up and reconvene in the morning? We’re all exhausted. Dirty. Let’s worry about this tomorrow,” Steve mutters before standing up with his shield in his hand and stalking out of the room, everyone else soon following suit.

The crackling fire was the only noise permeating the air, save for the quiet murmur of the radio and occasional hums that slipped from your lips. “I want to swim away, but don’t know how. Sometimes it feels just like I’m falling in the ocean,” your quiet voice rang, travelling through the empty woods while the large log you leaned against dug into your skin. Hazy shades of orange paint strokes blended together to paint the sky as the sun patiently rose from behind the trees. It was beautiful, something you didn’t think you could ever get used to experiencing.

You were lonely after the destruction of AIM. Not that you weren't grateful to be free, but sometimes you wished you could just be around someone, even if that someone wanted to destroy and conquer the world, and consequently, ruin your life. Does that make me a bad person? You shake your head gently, a sad smile slowly covering your face as you shoot a glance back at the cabin you’d been hiding in for the last three months. 

The cabin, when you first found it, sat deep in the woods, untouched for what you could only guess had been decades. Layers of thick dust and spiderwebs decorated corners and furniture alike. It’ll have to do for now, you had thought to yourself. Over the course of the next couple of months, though, you grew to adore the little cabin and all its quirks. The creak of the fourth stair, the slight slant of the kitchen counter that causes the fruit to roll, even the stupid, (newly) broken singing sea bass that hung on the wall of the small living room (there may be a bullet hole or two through it and the wall behind it, but it’s not like you asked it to turn on while you were making lunch and scare the living daylights out of you).

An almost nonexistent mechanical hum pulled you from your thoughts as you glanced up. A frown settles on your face as you stood slowly, watching a drone hover over the cabin before racing back in the direction it came from. Quickly, you leapt over the log and sprinted stealthily into the house, shutting the doors and locking it. Whoever owned it knew you were there, if not from the drone footage, but from the steady fire burning outside.

You paced before opening the bottom cabinet next to the oven and pulling out a small handgun and a couple throwing knives, checking that the gun was loaded. Stairs were climbed two at a time in order to reach the small linen closet, where you pulled out a little jewelry box hidden behind thick blankets and emptied the contents in your palm, before sticking the small rectangular item into the side of your boot and securing it (pant pockets are too obvious, duh). 

Stepping into the master bedroom, you dared a peak out of the window that looked over the fire you were previously enjoying. Three figures stood at the perimeter of the property, poorly hidden by a few trees from Y/N’s angle. Maybe they’re just hikers. You’ve seen plenty of them, yeah? Just passing through, is what you tried to tell yourself but a second glance out the window quickly shut those thoughts down as you noted that none of the men were hidden amongst the trees anymore. Instead, they were stalking toward the house, but traveling in different directions almost as if to surround you. All clad in some form of tactical gear, one holding a round shield, one in all black with a gleaming left arm, and the last with what looked like a jetpack on his back.

A silent string of curses left your lips as you stalked down the mini hallway and peaked over the banister. You crouched and listened, calming your heartbeat. You would die before ever going back to working for AIM. A knock to the front door bounced off the walls.

“Hello? We’re not here to hurt you. We just think you might’ve been in the wrong place at the wrong time and want to ask you a few questions.” Although muffled by the door, Y/N can hear the demand clear as day. Wrong place, wrong time my ass. 

“Steve, this isn’t an interrogation. We want her to come back willingly. You’re gonna scare her off,” Someone pipes up from the side of the house. A furrowed brow replaces the sour look on your face. What the hell? You also hear a “fuck it,” before the back door lock is picked and quietly swung open. “You were supposed to wait for my go-ahead, Buck,” a different voice mumbles, heavy steps causing the floor downstairs to groan. 

Waddling over to the bedroom quietly while crouched proves to be a little more difficult than you anticipated, but you do it in record time and shuts the door quietly. A simple thwack sounds as you unlatch the window and open it, peering down at the ground. You’d survive the jump, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt any less. You land with a soft thud and pray that the three burly men in the cabin don’t hear the sound. Pressing glowing hands to the side of the house, they, along with you eyes, begin to emit a warmth that spreads from your palms to your fingertips and seconds later the wood under ignites as little flames lick the spots. You take your opportunity to flee into the woods but don't get very far before a giant metal frisbee-like object lodges itself into the tree next to your head. Your feet stumble, but you quickly regain balance before pushing yourself from a jog to a full on sprint. What you didn’t expect was to be tackled from the side.

Rolling to a stop, you’re covered by a hefty build sporting a pair of metal wings. “Let me go!” you screams, before grabbing the arm of your attacker and heating up your skin, consequently burning whoever had you pinned. The groan he let out was enough for you to catch him off guard again, bringing a knee up between his legs harshly and pushing him off before scrambling to break into another sprint.

A hand wrapped around your ankle proved to stop you in your tracks, literally. Dragging you down, you kick your other foot in hopes of hitting something while frantically searching yourself for your gun. All you come up with is a knife, but it’ll have to do, you think. Sitting up and shoving the knife in between the plates of the wings, Y/N twists it roughly as it disables the pack on the man’s back before stomping your free foot into his shoulder. A revolting pop sounds and this time you don’t waste a second in finding your footing, but find yourself stunted from another chance at running when the sight of two brawny men stand in front of you. Your whole body glows ominously, frustration kicking in.

“We’re not here to hurt you. Please,” the one with the shield steps forward tentatively. “My name is Steve, Steve Rogers.” You go to take a step back but find the menacing man who tackled you behind you.

Tears build in your eyes, but evaporate from your internal heat before they can reach your cheeks. “I know who you are,” you snarl, the glow growing brighter as time ticked by. A mechanical hum fills your ears again, but heavier than the drone you saw earlier. A quick glance toward the empty sky leaves you bemused, though.

“Cap, stand down. her internal temp is rising. She’ll explode herself before she lets us take her in,” Tony’s voice rings in their ears, but Bucky surprises himself by taking a step forward. “Buck--” Steve starts, but doesn’t finish as he watches Bucky drop his weapons on the ground. 

“Let us help you. We aren’t here to hurt you. We need your help,” he takes another small step forward, noticing the flicker in you glow. “Let me help you. I know what it’s like to be cornered. To be used for other’s personal gains. To be so close to the edge of self destruction that there don’t seem to be any other options,” another step, “but you don’t have to go down that path. Help us help you.” All the while, you glow slowly diminishes to a soft orange.

Eyes blink wildly, glancing between the three of the men. “You don’t know me. You don’t know shit,” you breath trembles, before you steels you gaze and stiffens you posture. “I’m not some science experiment you guys get to play with!” you cry out, flinging two knives. One hits Bucky square in the left shoulder, while the other hits Steve in the abdomen. You go to take off, hearing a wheeze and a grunt of, “back up, we need back up” followed by “Barton, now!” and heavy footsteps falling behind you. 

Before you get very far, a shooting pain blossoms from your shoulder before a sudden wave of fatigue runs through your body, slowing your steps until you can barely walk. The trees in front of your face double and the hand you stretch out to lean against a tree misses, leaving you lying in a pile of pine needles and dirt before everything went black.