thetruththatshouldbe:

The boy took a few ragged breaths, trying to hold in his tears. “Ye picked me up an’ took me sumwhere an’ gave me candy an’ dad always sayd tae not take candy from strangers ‘cause they’ll kidnap ye an’ I dun wanna be kidnapped,” Cam rambled, upset. The presence of other kids which were, apparently, Scott’s soothed him a little, but being just picked up and carried around by some stranger while he had been powerless to get away had shocked him quite a bit.

"Mum-!" It sounded like a sob more than anything and the moment his mother came into view, Campbell tripped over into her arms. He looked at the cookie with a slight frown, then at his mother for quiet permission, but she shook her head. "I don’t think more sugar is a very good idea right now, Campbell.." She looked a little worn out so it was no surprise that she didn’t look forward to a sugar high son. She smiled at Scott, though. "Thanks for intercepting him, he’s so quick sometimes."

"Don’t run fr’m ye’r Ma and strange men can’t grab ye." Scott advised dramatically, nodding once to the tater tot of a kid. "Though Ah’m sorry f’r scaring ye kid. An’ I promise not t’kidnapp ye, I’ve enough kids already." He glanced up at Campbell’s mum with a smile, holding the cookie between two fingers a moment out towards her. "Oh yes Ah I can understand that." He sighed. "Jamie ‘ere ‘ad a period where ‘e needed t’look at everything in a store, even if Ah only needed one thing. Ah got used t’grabbin’ ‘im before he could split."

Said kid made a face and glanced away while his sister continued to just stare at Cam, cookie half shoved in her mouth. 

"Luckily enough these are sugarless cookies." Scott continued. "And its no problem Miss. Ye’ve got all your things, or would ye like a quick hand?"

thetruththatshouldbe:

scottthemetacrisis:

The shriek rung in his ears and Scott nearly stumbled, pressing his free hand to his ear as he walked over to the lad’s mother. “Rassilon ‘e’s got some lungs on ‘im eh?” He asked her with a wince, setting him back on the ground and quickly shoving one of his Chocomint wafers into the child’s mouth. “What that really necessary?” He asked the kid, lifting an eyebrow. “Ye normally scream when someone’s kidnapped ye, not when they’re takin’ ye back t’yer ma, kiddo.”

The moment his feet touched solid ground again, he stumbled away from Scott, spitting out whatever Scott put in his mouth in shock. “Ye picked me up,” he complained, sounding more whiny and less accusing than he wanted. It didn’t help that his eyes started to water. “I th-“

Cam wiped at his eyes angrily, took a few shaky breaths before yelling. “Mom!” He didn’t take his eyes off Scott in the meantime, skittish like a wild animal. That weird longhaired guy had just picked him up and had started taking him somewhere and he’d said it was to his mother but maybe he’d been lying his mum had always told him not to talk to strangers maybe this was why. “Moooooom!

"Ye ran int’me." Scott said back, propping a hand on his hip. "Jesus kid don’t-" He winced, pressing a few fingers behind his ear at the renewed screaming. "Thought ye wanted t’get away from ‘er." He complained. "Aye aye children.”

A dirty blond child - who actually looked quite a lot like Cam just more blond - walked over, holding the hand of a tiny red haired girl, picking up the slightly soiled cookie and taking a bite. Scott glanced over at his child before blinking with a wince at the sheer volume the child managed to produce. Ignoring the boy in favor of his own kid for a moment, Scott held out a hand. “Jamie what are ye doing?”

"Mum says not t’waste food daddy." He mumbled through a mouth full.

Scott shook his head. “Ye don’t eat food that’s already been in someone else’s mouth; and certainly not food that’s been on th’floor, alright kiddo? Spit it out.” Jamie did as ordered and Scott folded up that and the rest of the cookie in a napkin, writing a mental note to throw it away later. Giving his kids cookies of their own he put the red head on his hip, turning back to the wailer as the boy’s mother came up from behind, paid for groceries in hand. “Oi, kiddo. Wouldya put a cork in it an’ turn around?” He waited a moment, and then held out a third cookie. “Are ye sure ye don’t want one? They’re my favorite kinda cookie.”

thetruththatshouldbe:

scottnoblethemetacrisis:

Before the child could get away Scott grabbed his shoulder and dropped to a knee, eyeing him a moment. “And jus where do ye think ye’r goin’ mister?” He said with a grin, having heard the child scream at his mother not a minute earlier. “Ah don’t think ye’d like t’get lost durin’this time o’the day, believe me.” he continued, and slipped both hands under the child’s armpits, picking him up and housted him over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. “Let’s get ye back t’where ye belong aye?”

Cam glowered at the stranger, trying to shrug off his hand. He had not expected Scott to pick him up though and shouted in protest. “Hey! Le’go, ye’re not-” He kicked and squirmed, fists pounding Scott’s back. “Put me down!”

What had started as indignation and anger at being manhandled like this soon turned into frustration and panic when Scott’s hold wouldn’t budge. Even as a small child Campbell had a fear of being constrained and his head spun as he looked down helplessly, at Scott’s walking feet. His silence only lasted a moment, though, as he sucked his lungs full of air, then shrieked, renewing his struggle with more vehemence.

The shriek rung in his ears and Scott nearly stumbled, pressing his free hand to his ear as he walked over to the lad’s mother. “Rassilon ‘e’s got some lungs on ‘im eh?” He asked her with a wince, setting him back on the ground and quickly shoving one of his Chocomint wafers into the child’s mouth. “What that really necessary?” He asked the kid, lifting an eyebrow. “Ye normally scream when someone’s kidnapped ye, not when they’re takin’ ye back t’yer ma, kiddo.”

We’ve created life

If you need a song to describe Scott’s marriage, this song. This. 

red-recluse:

scottthemetacrisis:

Scott chuckled shaking his head. “Ye aren’t rememberin’ much; pretty sure ye bashed ye’r ‘ead somewhere along th’ road kid.” He got to his feet, running a hand through shoulder length dark locks. “S’alright. Ye take th’time ye need t’ recover an’ when ye’r ready we can get ye back ‘ome.” He held out a hand. “M’ Jean Paul Noble. Ah’m ‘ead ‘ere at th’ Torchwood Institute, Cardiff Branch.”

“‘f I bashed my head on the asphalt, wouldn’t there be more skull and brain pieces everywhere? Like… not inside my head?” He chuckled, tilted his head back and glanced at his wrist searching for a tag something to see if they’d identified him. “Torchwood? I’ve never heard of it…” He reached out to shake, pausing before accepting the shake. 

"See now we thought so - until ye started t’heal up when we were bundlin’ ye up t’take t’th’ hospital. S’been about three days since ye fell kid - an’ as far as Ah c’n tel ye don’t ‘ave any mental problems, though that’s why Ah mentioned th’ ‘recover’ part." He chuckled, shaking the other’s hand firmly. "We already disposed of the ah, bits, ye lost when ye fell. Didn’t think ye wants that t’be layin’ around." He paused, letting the other go and eyed him a moment, other hand settling on his hip. "Torchwood was created by the British Government to handle aliens - so as a mutant you aren’t within our jurisdiction. So Ah don’t see any problem wit’elpin’ ye out and lettin’ ye go. Where are ye from?"

scottthemetacrisis has paid a visit

wickedgreensmile:

"I’m glad I can be entertaining." He said with a shrug, hands moving down to brush against his chest. He looked up towards Scott and stretched. He stood up and lazily walked around the cells, not looking towards Scott at all. 

At the mention of the venom, he stopped and turned towards Scott again. “I did what I had to. I’m strong. At least, I thought I was…” He took a step forward. “That venom did almost kill me, but it didn’t. It made me stronger.”

Scott smiled coldly, voice abruptly deepening as his accent vanished. “The suit made you stronger; that venom accelerated the disease and nearly killed you.” He stated slowly. “You’re only human Osborn, despite how you like to keep on forgetting that.” He lent forward, eyes flashing for a split second. “I want to know why you’re still alive. It’s got nothing to do with up here-” He tapped his head. “And everything to do with your biology.”

red-recluse:

scottthemetacrisis:

"Ye were lucky enough t’have ye’r episode somewhere were we could evacuate quickly an’ assess th’ situation witout guns.” Scott replied dryly. “An’ Ah’m pretty sure’ye fell a’cause ye’were standing ontop of the building, at the edge actually. We ringin’ any bells?” He shifted to sit at the bottom half of the gurney, hands laced together between his knees. “It might ‘elp ye t’know ye’r in Cardiff, kiddo.” 

"Cardiff? I don’t remember going to Cardiff." Without guns was reassuring, but waking up in Cardiff was something concerning. He managed to prop his pillows back so he could actually see Scott. He didn’t quite trust the man yet. Until he did something to win it, Peter would stay in position to spit venom if he needed to. 

Scott chuckled shaking his head. “Ye aren’t rememberin’ much; pretty sure ye bashed ye’r ‘ead somewhere along th’ road kid.” He got to his feet, running a hand through shoulder length dark locks. “S’alright. Ye take th’time ye need t’ recover an’ when ye’r ready we can get ye back ‘ome.” He held out a hand. “M’ Jean Paul Noble. Ah’m ‘ead ‘ere at th’ Torchwood Institute, Cardiff Branch.”

red-recluse:

scottthemetacrisis:

"S’yours kid." Scott replied softly, getting up from his chair. Walking over to where he knew the other could see him from where he laid on the gurney Scott tilted his head, eyeing the other. "Not often a kid literally falls from th’ sky an’ dunnae crack a few bones." He mused, lifting an eyebrow. "Ye alright? "

Peter let out a breath of relief. “Nobody else got hurt?” He moved to prop himself up and found he hadn’t much energy to move himself. “Why’d I fall?” The last thing he could really remember was walking through the city. Everything after that was blurry, all up to speculation. He could definitely feel his body working to heal itself. “I’m fine.”

"Ye were lucky enough t’have ye’r episode somewhere were we could evacuate quickly an’ assess th’ situation witout guns.” Scott replied dryly. “An’ Ah’m pretty sure’ye fell a’cause ye’were standing ontop of the building, at the edge actually. We ringin’ any bells?” He shifted to sit at the bottom half of the gurney, hands laced together between his knees. “It might ‘elp ye t’know ye’r in Cardiff, kiddo.” 

red-recluse:

     Peter’s world was a bit fuzzy, the noise drowned out by a low hum. He recognized it as a recover, however. A recovery from a blackout. Immediately, he looked to his hands. Blood. Up until that point, he’d never killed before, but that could so easily change when he lost control. He turned to a slight blurry figure from the corner of his vision. “Whose? Whose is it?” 

"S’yours kid." Scott replied softly, getting up from his chair.Walking over to where he knew the other could see him from where he laid on the gurney Scott tilted his head, eyeing the other. "Not often a kid literally falls from th’ sky an’ dunnae crack a few bones." He mused, lifting an eyebrow. "Ye alright? "