Excuse Me, Mr Mikaelson.

How did you know you were gay, old school Disney Channel Edition? A: These three. 🥵

• Sarah Fox (Vanessa Morgan), My Babysitter’s a Vampire

• Mikayla Makoola (Kelsey Asbille Chow), Pair of Kings

• Alex Russo (Selena Gomez), Wizards of Waverly Place

Imagine Bucky being absolutely offended, OFFENDED when he’s called out for being dramatic. Not even in a bad way. Just. He thinks he’s so lowkey and quiet and stealthy, not realizing he’s such a little drama queen sometimes. He has his arms crossed over his chest while Sam and Steve exchange examples they can think of, his annoyance only growing more after each one. 

“He tore the arm off his jacket before throwing himself off a plane, who does that?” 

“I have it all on camera-

“I told you I’d break it” Bucky growled but it just made you giggle, imaging your grumpy boyfriend walking around with just a single sleeve of his leather jacket. 

“Remember the time you broke Zemo out of prison and I asked you how a prison fight would randomly ensue and you said “Who knows” with crazy eyes?” 

“Okay but-

“And then you said you didn’t do anything, only to have Zemo walk in 3 second later?” 

“I had good reason-”

“I mean you did dramatically yell “Stop the car” only to walk off like a grumpy old man” 

“M’not grumpy” 

“I remember this one time, I was beating up this guy in the back of an alley way and he came in with his new army uniform and-

“You were getting your ass handed to you, Steve” Bucky said with an exasperated huff, recalling the event much differently, back when Steve was about the same weight as Bucky’s left thigh. 

“Remember when he pouted because Tony wouldn’t let him travel through time and kill baby Zola” 

“I wasn’t pouting” 

“Look, he’s pouting right now!” 

You couldn’t contain your laugh anymore, looking at your poor helpless boyfriend with his bottom lip jutting out, looking like a poor admonished child. 

“No, m’not” He mumbled, letting you coo and wrap your arms around him, his face now buried in your neck, hiding away from his mean friends who were now nearly on the floor.  

“Awww, the big scary white wolf needs cuddles- oh” Sam’s smile dropped when Bucky’s head pulled away from his hiding spot, glaring at him. Steve let out a nervous laugh watching his best friend gently lift you off his lap and plopping you off to the side before getting up and stretching. 

“You idiots have 10 seconds”

“He can’t be serious”

“9″

“C’mon Buck-

“8″

“He won’t- 

“1″ 

…

“Run” 

“OH SHIT”

“USE YOUR WINGS DAMN IT”

“DO YOU THINK I KEEP THEM UP MY ASS FOR SAFE KEEPING, I DON’T HAVE THEM ON ME, YOU’RE THE SUPER SOLIDER, CARRY ME”

*Sam nearly gets clocked in the head*

“Did he just throw his metal arm at me!?”

“Yes. Yes he did” 

“So dramatic” 

The person I reblogged this from is someone I enjoy seeing on my dashboard.

If you support gay marriage reblog this. If you're on the homophobic side, keep scrolling.

As a bisexual, it sickens me that some people WILL keep scrolling.

you can only reblog this today

Gif source:  Finn

Imagine reuniting with Finn and your son when they arrive in New Orleans.

———  Request for anon  ———

It did not take long for you to learn of what you were. A vampire. The first of them, and, at first, you believed yourself to be alone. Cursed to a life without your family, your village— anything other than an insatiable thirst that forced ruin in your wake.

Then, after centuries, you heard whispers of others. Of a family, the Originals, they’d been called. Named on the tongue of vampires you had not sired, the thing of legends and myths. You collected just enough information to peak your interest— to give you hope.

But for the life of you, you could not catch up to them. As if each time you would find their location, they were forced from it just as suddenly by some unknown entity.

You had not expected New Orleans to be any different than it had been a century ago. You had expected to arrive, defeated, to the aftermath and the evidence of their presence— just enough to convince you of their existence, but not enough to keep them there. The ages had made you tired, to the brink of exhaustion, as you chased after them hopelessly, over and over again.

In the dead of night, you had not expected to see him, of all things, after all these tireless years. He had been reserved for your memories, a ghost in the depths of your mind that fueled your hope, but to see him now, finally, you can hardly believe it.

“Finn,” falls softly from your lips, carried along the faint tune of a saxophone playing deeper in the quarter, the cheers of tourists and laughter of locals fading in the night between you. He looked just as young as you, immortality adorning him in an eternal youth much like it had you. His hair is much shorter, cropped, a product of the times you found yourselves in. Nothing like how it had been when you’d fallen in love with him, back when the Vikings had roamed the earth.

His eyes, however, they showed the truth of him. Weary and wise, like they had seen it all— which, you’re quite certain they had, if your own life was any example to go by. They watch you, conflicted and disbelieving, as if he cannot fathom your appearance before him any more than you could of him.

In the blink of an eye, he’s before you, warm hand at your jaw, cupping familiarly as your name finds purchase on his tongue. It’s choked, as if holding back a shuddering sob, before his lips crash down against your own.

Your heart breaks, and picks up its own pieces to put itself back together, all at once. He was real. Not a figment of your imagination or an insanity born from hopeless need. Your hands grasp the polyester of his shirt, grasping him to you for the first time in forever, it felt like.

“How,” he chokes out, and you shake your head. That was a question for his mother, but you doubted even she knew, for she certainly would not have left you had she known.

“Our son,” you ask, but dare not hope for him. It had been centuries, and you had learned they were not so kind. How could a child grow in the death that had surrounded you?

“He,” he breaks, and for a moment your suspicions are confirmed. He must have died long ago. Finn clears his throat, a smile breaking against his lips as his forehead presses against your own, “He is not as you remember him. He walks in the body of a man, now. You’ve missed so much.”

“He’s alive?” there’s no hiding your happy sob, as your husband wipes tears from your cheeks.

“Yes,” he nods, “you should meet him.”