Congress

Intro post :p

Hihi! I’m Tala Silas, some ppl call me Tank! I’m 15 (and a half) (yes I’m immature enough to add the half) and I’m a fucking NERD. I love love love love LOVE linguistics, I’m hard of hearing and an asl student. I’m based in the US!

Autistic, ADHD, hella traumatized and v anxious (yes I can use this experience for ff)

wlw but men are cool too!

My gender is none of ur business

Punk?? At least trying!

Tsalagi (uncultured asf tho, pls help me) and Sicilian gal from SoCal

I write fanfic! Rn I’m willing to write for almost anyone you request!

FANDOMS:

Deadly Class (comics)

Marvel (mcu) (heavy focus on Yelena and Bob)

The true lives of the fabulous killjoys (National Anthem and California)

Ethel Cain (idk who wants Ethel Cain ff but I guess I could write it?)

TWD (I’m on season 3 rn but I’ll update this page every time that changes)

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Im also SOOOOSOSOSO socially awkward but yeahhh

I’m a otherkin or therian but not a physical one

I’m a wolfdog!

Bjj girlie, aspiring archer (gotta get over the aversion to getting back into it tho)

DMS ARE OPEN! REQUESTS ARE OPEN! PLEASE TALK TO ME!!

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My main knowledge bases (please ask me abt them):

Leopard Sharks, Orcas, Great Whites

Sleep Token

Critical Race Theory (mostly out of boredom but always down to discuss)

Trauma and mental health in relation to political issues

Autism and ADHD

NBC Hannibal (2013-2015)

The Daniel tiger episode where they go to a crayon factory

Also please stop asking me about your family in Gaza I’m very sorry but I don’t know which ones are real and which ones aren’t. I’m very sorry I know your families are starving but mine is too, I cannot donate and I am more sorry that grifters are taking your plight and using it to scam others I truly am.

I’m ngl all you need to know is protect the jugular, keep chin down in a choke, the hardest parts of your body are back of head (hitting w this will disorient you but it is a last resort option), bottom of palm, elbow, and knee. Targets are temple, solar plexus, instep, groin (male or female), ears rip, piercings rip, eyes hurt, and eyes will water if you’re hit in the nose. Stay safe!

Bakery sounds so fun I hope you get the job!

What’s your favorite clothes item/ accessory because canine?

ohhhh that’s a difficult question!

Well, I like the leather jacket I recently acquired! Oddly enough it’s kinda the same shade of black my fur is? (Hopefully that makes sense) I also really like necklaces though! I have the one I bought from Luneprint, it kinda reminds me of a collar so I really like it.

Other than that I’m working on slowly expanding my wardrobe to more of my aesthetic, so I don’t have that much.

Wbu? :D

Hey Kade?? I love you??

Bro I need this cut so bad

Yes these are two different cuts but I can’t find EXACTLY what I want so

{{I don't know much, but what I do know is this, all non humans have a handful of things-

For example.}}

- A complex and oftentimes contradictory relationship with food.

- A lingering sense of dread over humanites capacity to commit atrocities on the fly.

- A sleep schedule so disorganized it isn't even worth calling it a 'schedule'.

- A parent child relationship thats so strained it's worthy of its own Dr. Phil episode.

And

- One (1), undiagnosed condition of some kind.

The democrats don’t need to be amazing right now. They just need to be not fascists. Be fr guys this is the bare minimum and right now we need that. We will work our way to progress AFTER we defeat the republicans. Because they’re not “Trump and his administration.” Every single republican is complicit. Naming republicans in with 47 will make them to blame, and they will do things to get that heat off of them. Like growing a damn backbone. Keep fighting

Gimme my cigs (I don’t smoke cigarettes I smoke sage :p) (someone get me a blunt tho pls)

Absolute w bag I made at my second sewing and mending club. There’s also a key loop and a mini bag on the inside!

This is my everything

there's no death here | robert "bob" reynolds

ཐིཋྀ thunderbolts caught me with a bob-shaped hole in my heart.

warnings: spoilers from thunderbolts, super!reader, fem!reader, not sure if I'll make a bunch of parts or even finish this idea so be warned, gonna go ahead and say canon-divergent to save my ass bc im no marvel expert.

You weren't built for battle—the powers you had were more defense based than anything—but you had been trained by the best of the best. The countless lessons left your survival skills above subpar, and maybe you could make use of your size and strangle a man twice it, but those things didn't make you a hero.

And being around so many of them for so long, it's disturbingly easy to start to feel useless.

“Born or cursed?”

You didn't remember who had asked it. You do remember you had been younger, that you'd been more or less adopted into the world of the Avengers without ever truly being thrown into it. Wanda and Natasha had been your everything, especially when it came to helping with your powers. Between the supernatural and the mental side, they had done wonders.

Sitting around and not making use of yourself would be spitting on their memory, so it wasn't long before you were dragged into government business. Reading minds was handy, but picking apart memories? Entering their psyche?

You were gold to detectives and last resort for men in black suits who would “talk” to criminals if you didn't.

The work had drained enough from you by the time Bucky showed up on your doorstep with a bottle of liquor and a favor.

“This isn't what I do,” you told him, looking over the files. “I'm not a therapist or a teacher. If Void is as powerful as you say it is—”

“It can be beaten,” he explained. “We've done it before. I just need you to help Bob block it out. You know how to do that.”

“With other people's thoughts,” you argued.

He shook his head. “You suppress memories. You put them into neat little boxes for your agent work.”

“You want me to make him forget something that dangerous?”

“I want you to show him he's not alone when it comes to this side of superpowers.” Bucky stood, a warm hand coming down on your shoulder and squeezing. “We've all been scattered. It's a shit team, the New Avengers, but it's something, kid.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, Bucky,” you sighed.

“I know. Wouldn't be asking you for your help if you were.”

The door shut to your apartment in farewell, but one visit from the Winter Soldier had too many opening at once. Flashes of earth's most mightiest heroes, of old friends, dead friends, missing ones.

Getting dragged back into that mess was asking for trouble.

Sipping on free alcohol, you flip through the packet of Robert “Bob” Reynolds. Sweet face, fucked past, and a far more fucked psyche for the powers he'd revealed in the last hit on New York.

Cursed, you decided by the end of your research, frowning as a picture slipped free. The New Avengers were definitely a ragtag group. Bucky was the only one you knew, Yelena you learned more than enough about through Nat digging around her head one time too many. Alexei Shostakov as well, but he was easy to pick apart at one glance. Anything revolving around Ava Starr and John Walker was rumors or passed down the grapevine.

Your phone vibrated. Checking it drew a deep line between your eyebrows. Someone was asking for another questioning, this time through the mind of a rampant serial killer in Chicago. They didn't have enough on him.

You leaned into your hands, sighing.

Across the block at a red-light, Bucky glanced at his phone and smiled as he read over the text.

“I need to meet him before I agree to this.”

The light flicked green.

The Watchtower was a shadow of the place you used to know. Repairs were still being made leaving people crawling on every floor but the top level had been finished for two weeks now, leaving the New Avengers with their shared space.

Bucky had promised the team would be out when you arrived, save for Bob. As it was quiet when the elevator door opened, you were glad to see he'd kept that promise.

“Welcome back,” he called, walking up.

“Which room did you snag?” you scoffed, eyeing the decor. Minimalist, neutral tones. Far greyer than the old room you remembered.

“The biggest.” He said it like it was obvious. Maybe it should've been.

Hearing movement, you both turned as a shadow passed by the windows. The hunched shoulders were a dead giveaway, soft eyes flittering between the floor and you as the young man stepped down.

Bob wore a dark blue sweater that drowned his figure and dark jeans. His hair was still a shaggy length and dark brown from the recent pictures you'd seen. By all accounts, he looked normal, but the anxiety flowed off him in waves that crashed against your head.

His mind extends way beyond others.

“Hi,” he greeted softly, clearing his throat. “You're, uh, Bucky's friend?”

You introduced yourself, stepping forward to offer your hand. He was quick to step back even across the room, body tensing.

“Wait, don't. I'm not sure if I—”

“When's the last time you transported someone into a shame room?”

The shock on his face had you glancing at Bucky for answers.

“Last week,” he said, crossing his arms. “Nothing super dangerous. Uncomfortable, but we get a lot of repeats so we break off easily enough.”

“Wait, so how much do you already know?” Bob asked, arms wrapping around himself.

“Enough,” you and Bucky respond.

Bob sighed, head nodding along as he turned away. “Great, guess that makes it easier.”

“I wouldn't say that; you're guarded now.” You moved closer, keeping your steps slow and your hands behind your back. Bob remained tense but didn't shy away. “Bucky called me here to see if I could help you, but I came here to see if you even want it.”

“Well, uh…” he swallowed, head bowing.

Do you want my help? His eyes flashed wide, breath catching as he looked up. You kept your expression neutral as you raised a brow. Do you? This will only work if you want to put in the effort.

“Can you see everything?”

You fought not to smile at the childish awe in his voice as it echoed back to you. I'm not looking. I'm listening.

A series of curses and panicked background commentary had you laughing.

I've heard and seen a lot. Honestly, don’t worry about it.

“That's easy for you to say,” Robert grumbled. “I cant control my thoughts like you can.”

“Would you like to?”

“It's not that I don't want your help,” he said, hands tangling into his sweater. “I just don't want to hurt anyone again. A lot of people… Some don't snap out of what I make them see. It's bad.”

“I have faith in my mental state,” you assured him. “Mental barriers, especially. I need to see just how powerful you are, though. Because if you get past mine, that means I'll be training you through trial and error. It's risky but it's not impossible.”

Bob looked to Bucky. “Do you think that's a good idea?”

Your old friend shrugged. “I brought her in because she's good at what she does. Whatever she wants to do, I have to trust it's the right decision.”

“I could hurt her!” Bob breathed and looked back to you. “I could hurt you really, really bad. Are you sure you know what you're signing up for?”

“I read through your files. I saw the extent of your powers and the aftermath of the accident,” you explained. “I'm prepared to help you with all things mental and psychic, but trust has to go both ways.”

You raised your hand again. He flinched, shuffling back.

“You want to help me now. What if that changes?” he whispers. “What if you see what it's really like and it scares you?”

“We won't know unless we try.” You took a step. Hand outstretched.

Bob looked at Bucky again, as if waiting to see if anyone would disagree. Whatever he searched for wasn't there.

He sighed and met your gaze. Pale blue eyes, you noted, with colors shifting around the pupil.

“Okay,” he nodded, holding up a shaky hand. The skin was bitten raw around his nails, skin dry but warm. The moment you felt it, there was a pressure against your mental shields. You could see the darkness clouding around you, searching for a way in, but you held firm.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, arm trembling as he stood there. His eyes were closed, head turned away.

You smiled, holding in a laugh as you used your other hand to grab his. “I'm fine, Bob. You're definitely powerful.”

“But you didn't see anything?” he said, eyeing where you were joined.

“I've had years to work on my mental barriers. You can't breach what doesn't have an entrance.” You squeezed his hand. “This is a really good sign. I'm going to have to let you in at some point to see just how potent your power is, but we'll work up to that.”

“You really don't see anything?” he whispered, hope rising in his expression as he searched your gaze.

“Just you,” you promised, unable to keep from smiling. “We'll have to work on your projection. Your thoughts are…loud.”

His face flushed red as he pulled away, sputtering an apology. There was some halfass excuse about the bathroom as he fled. Bucky stepped up to fill the empty space.

“What was he thinking?”

“None of your business,” you chuckled. “You got a guest room for me?”

But you had to admit you were flattered. Mens’ thoughts usually came up with the same descriptions for you at first glance. All your life you'd been met with disgusting thoughts and hateful opinions or plain “hot” and “sexy.”

This might've been the first time a man had ever thought of you as “radiant” before.

My favorite thing about this is that all of these insults are things I can only describe as “something papa said on the phone once right before nonna found out he had tattoos” and 100% google translated

i like it when italian italians get mad at italian americans for calling themselves italian

Im so fucking scared of my dads parenting skills. Like I turned out fine but I have extensive trauma counseling. My brother has a glock