fruitful bran

Happy Birthday SAM!!!

I was thinking about Samuel Thomas Wilson today because BIRTHDAY and I had the following thoughts: 

- Headcanon that Sam picked up bird watching as a hobby from his mom, and that on the Sundays when he’s available to take her to church they always head down to the park afterward with their binoculars to see what they can see.  

- Maybe Sam records rare species sightings for her in her little purple notebook, the one she always keeps in her purse with the monogrammed fountain pen Sam’s dad gave her for her birthday one year.  

- Maybe she smacks him on the arm a little too hard when she gets excited about spotting a Myiarchus crinitus, never taking the binoculars away from her face, and how can such a tiny little woman dole out as much casual force as some Norse gods in Sam’s acquaintance? Not even Thor’s more enthusiastic pats on the back hurt this much.  

- Maybe they are sitting on a bench some such Sunday – a good one, judging by the bruises Sam is collecting on his forearm as he jots down species after species in the little book while his mom hoots with glee beside him. Maybe it’s a great day, the weather warm and dry for late September, but with a chill in the air that brings with it an aromatic whiff of crackling, dried leaves and chimney smoke. Maybe it’s the week of Sam’s birthday and the prospect of post-bird-watching, mom-made cake is looking pretty darn good, given the chocolate-centric grocery list scrawled on the upper corner of the page he’s working on. Maybe it’s the perfect day – except for the fact that Sam hasn’t really, actually got around to telling her, explicitly, in so many words, that he’s kind of, sort of a superhero these days (It might in fact be his day job? He’s still figuring out the specifics) - and the possibility that this might be the right moment to just come out and spill the relatively-confidential-and-definitely-dangerous beans hangs over Sam’s head like a dark cloud. 

- It’s not that he’s been avoiding telling her, he just wasn’t sure he should – and he definitely doesn’t want her worried sick over him all the time. He remembers how hard it was on her when he was deployed…

- Plus, what in the hell is he even supposed to say? ‘Hey ma, you know Captain America? We’re kind of co-workers now. We chit chat by the water cooler – and by ‘water cooler’ I mean ‘military-grade explosives cache.’ I’m on a payroll so high up that I’m not exactly sure we even get paid – I might not have clearance to see my own pay-stub. Pretty sure there’s dental, though. My uniform is really uncomfortable in the crotch - the Black Widow gave me some powder that’s supposed to help. Speaking of the Black Widow – did you know she prefers Fruit Loops to Raisin Bran? Not really that shocking, I know – who wouldn’t? I’ve played poker with Iron Man and to be honest he’s sort of a wang, and a complete fucking cheat -’  

- Maybe Sam’s interrupted in his frenzied internal musings by his mom’s soft voice beside him; “You know what I was really hoping to get a glimpse of today? A falcon – Mimmi said she saw one last week but I’m starting to think she was talking out her ass.”  

“A falcon, huh?” Sam murmurs, feeling a little blank and a lot nauseated – should he take that as his cue? Not really sure there’ll be a better one. Fuck it. “Ah, there’s one sitting next to you,” he blurts, fidgeting with the pen and causing little blooms of ink to mar the page. “A falcon, the Falcon – I’m the – I’m the Falcon.”  

His mom has stiffened beside him and he can’t bring himself to look at her just yet.  

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, mama,” he hastens to explain. “I just didn’t want to worry you.”  

He finally manages to bring his eyes up to her face and – he wishes he hadn’t. Sam thinks the look on her face would wither even Tony’s robot-clad balls. It makes him want to go crawl under a rock; he doesn’t need Scott’s fancy suit, one look like that from his ma has always made him feel about an inch tall. She’s pissed. He drops his gaze back to his lap.  

A few minutes of strained silence, Sam frantically thinking of something to say to soothe her and - 

“You think I didn’t know?” She huffs.  

“What?” Sam jolts, looking back up to catch her rolling her eyes.  

“You really thought I didn’t already know? Child, you been running all over the six-o'clock news every damn night with your goggles and your glorified jetpack and you thought I wouldn’t recognize you?" 

Sam feels his face heat. "I – I didn’t - ” he stutters.  

“What did you think you were playing at? Like some strappy vest and a fancy scuba mask would stop me from knowing my own baby -”  

“Mama -”  

“I know there’s no way you think I’m that stupid." 

"Of course I don’t think – It’s just sort of confidential, and I wasn’t sure - it’s sort of a need to know -”  

Mmhmm. There’s nothing confidential between me and you, and you know it. I knew from the first time I saw your little behind swoop past my television screen – God knows I wiped it enough times -”  

Mama -”  

“And you thought I didn’t know,” she snorts, lifting the binoculars back up to her eyes. “Ooh! Passerina cyanea! Write that down, Mr. Not So Secret Agent Man." 

Sam sighs. "Yes, mama.”  

“Speaking of code names, I’ve been meaning to ask you - is ‘Falcon’ really the best you could come up with? Not very imaginative.” 

“What did you have in mind?”

“How ‘bout ‘Winged Dumbass In Too-Tight Leather.’” 

He sighs again. “I suppose that is fairly accurate.”

“It certainly looks chafing.” 

The Front Desk is not your babysitter.

The Front Desk is not your babysitter.

The Front Desk is not your babysitter.

The Front Desk is not your babysitter.

More than once a day? Bloody hell Celia, eat some fibre…

Signs as cereals
  • Aries: raisin bran
  • Taurus: fruit loops
  • Gemini: unhappy-os
  • Leo: old people cereal
  • Cancer: oatmeal
  • Virgo: vegan granola
  • Libra: knock off froot loops
  • Scorpio: Oreo os
  • Sagittarius: Rice Krispies
  • Capricorn: COMMUNISM
  • Aquarius: Special K granola
  • Pieces: cinnamon Toast CRUNCH
Rereading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix: Chapter One - Dudley Demented


- okay so far, its HOT outside, harry looks weird because he’s had another growth spurt, and he’s like, really into the news. thats pretty much all we need to know at this point, right?

Harry listened to a jingle of Fruit ‘N Bran breakfast cereal while he watched Mrs. Figg, a batty, cat-loving old lady from nearby Wisteria Walk, amble slowly past. She was frowning and muttering to herself. Harry was very pleased that he was concealed behind the bush; Mrs. Figg had recently taken to asking him around for tea whenever she met him in the street.

1. nice way to remind us who mrs. figg is before she pops up again at the end of the chapter 2. HARRY you fucking brat you should have gone to tea!!!!! she could have told you the juicy gossip!!!!!!!!

- according to petunia, dudley is ‘popular’ and thats probably the most unbelievable thing about this series. you know, including the magic and dragons and goblins. 

- SOMEONE DISAPPARATED YALL. i wonder who it is!!!!!!! def not mundungus fletcher right?

“Listening to the news! Again?”
“Well, it changes every day, you see,” said Harry.

lol bye harry. you sassy motherfucker. 

“We’re not stupid, you know,” said Uncle Vernon.
“Well, that’s news to me,” said Harry.

JFC KID  no wonder youre malnourished!!!!!!!

- i love harry but he is SUCH a drama queen. literally every book, the first chapters are just him being like ‘im sure all the friends who loved and cared about me and risked their life for mine hate me now for no reason at all!’ and its just like CHILL BRUH youre still cool.

- also pretty fucking stupid of harry to only read the front headline of the daily prophet and nothing else. LIKE IF UR THAT BORED WHY NOT READ THE DAMN THING YOU MIGHT FIND SOMETHING INTERESTING?????

- also hermione had been at rons all summer and like….the sexual tension must be PRETTY potent. 

Nevertheless, it was quite galling to be told not to be rash by a man who had served twelve years in the wizard prison, Azkaban, escaped, attempted to commit the murder he had been convicted for in the first place, then gone on the run with a stolen hippogriff…

lol i mean…..hes not wrong. 

- harrys having dreams about long, dark corridors and locked doors that make his scar hurt. but hes like ‘meh, better not tell anyone.’ GIRL BYE.

- as dramatic as harry is, hes got a right to be pissed. and its kinda sad that hes being kept in the dark over here.

- im never ever EVER going to get over the fact that jo chose ‘Big D’ as dudleys new nickname.

“He cheeked me.”
“Yeah? Did he say you look like a pig that’s been taught to walk on its hind legs? ‘Cause that’s not cheek, Dud, that’s true…”

lol harry is such a savage bitch

“Think you’re a big man carrying that thing, don’t you?” Dudley said after a few seconds.
“What thing?”
“That - that thing you’re hiding.”
Harry grinned again.

lol sorry but i mean this part could LITERALLY be a piece of dialogue from a porno

“What d’you mean, I’m not brave in bed?” said Harry

lol im sorry but like….COME ON. its so easy. 

- okay yikes ya NOT COOL dudley for bringing up cedric. really a dick move. 

For a split second Harry thought he had done magic without meaning to, despite the fact that he’d been resisting as hard as he could - then his reason caught up with his senses - he didn’t have the power to turn off the stars. 

1. harrys ego 2. just beautifully worded, really.


- harry thinking of ron and hermione produced his patronus :’) babes

Harry made to stow his wand hurriedly out of sight, but - 
“Don’t put it away, idiot boy!” she shrieked. “What if there are more of them around? Oh, I’m going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!”

aaaaaaand this is where the book goes okay to what the actual fuck. 

WELP if you liked this, follow me for more chapters!