sick crossover


A thousand years time? You won’t remember me. [x]

It’s Not What It Seems (Part 1/?)

There were three things that Erik Lehnsherr was unquestionably certain about:

1)      The car he was currently driving was most likely stolen.

2)      Charles lied to him, thus forcing him to trek it all the way back to Manchester with Peter, alone.

3)      There was something undeniably wrong with the kid.

Erik turned on the windshield wipers and stole another sideways glance at the young speedster. A few hours ago Peter had been on his 2nd box of Twinkies, which was conveniently stolen from the shitty gas station they had stopped at, and on a 12-hour spiel of mindless and seemingly endless chatter. Now however, the 19-year-old had settled down to an uncomfortable silence and, what seemed to be, a restless nap. The kid was pressed against the window, his legs crammed against the dash unable to find room for his lanky form, sleeping slightly, and wearing an over-sized hoodie he had found in the trunk of the car. At first Erik had been thankful for the silence, because after being packed into a tiny car with an ADHD kid who changed subjects faster than he could run, the kid was beginning to aggravate him. He had inwardly cursed Charles, feeling the telepath probing his mind, trying to sense the situation; and Charles consistently telling Erik to calm down, take a breath, he’s just a boy. Boy or not, Erik still wanted to kill him, repeatedly. He just. Wouldn’t. Shut. Up.

It wasn’t until he had opened his 3rd box of Twinkies, and finished his 4-hour rant about how Eurythmics “Sweet Dreams” was the greatest song of all time, that he started to quiet down. At first, Erik had assumed the kid was finally falling asleep, but when he glanced in Peter’s direction he was surprised to find him looking out the window and playing with one of the cords that connected to his headphones. The silence continued awkwardly for several hours until Erik had stopped for gas, realizing that the kid was asleep. He had walked around to Peter’s side of the car and stood there with an eyebrow raised. The young speedsters face was gracelessly pressed up against the glass, his breath fogging up the window slightly. His silver locks were sticking up in every different direction, and his goggles hung loosely around his neck. He looked so young and innocent, like a little kid and not a 19-year-old. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until Erik had tried to rouse the kid however, that he knew something was wrong.

At first he had tried waking Peter with a few shakes on his shoulder and calling his name. When that failed however, Erik mustered up enough room in the tiny compact car to punch the kid in the arm, hard; Peter yelped, bolting upright and rubbing his shoulder. “What’s your problem man? Can’t a guy get some sleep around here?” Peter said giving Erik a menacing glare.

Erik glanced over at him uncomfortably, slightly caught off guard with how bad the kid sounded. His voice was rough and hoarse, but whether it was from sleep-induced coma Peter had been rudely awaken from, or the fact that he was coming down with something, Erik didn’t know. Erik punched him gentler this time, “Are you alright?” he asked turning his attention back towards the road, missing the small flash of pain that crossed Peter’s face as he shifted once more in the uncomfortable seat.

Peter eyed Erik before turning back towards the chilly window, “Why dude? You’re not going soft on me, are you?” He heard Erik suppress a chuckle. Peter pressed his head harder against the window trying to push his headache away, and swallowed thickly, feeling his stomach turning. His headache had started behind his eyes, barely there, but now, it had spread down his neck and embedded into the bone of his jaw, hammering across his cheekbones. He glanced in Erik’s direction to see him shake his head, “No, I just would rather not have to deal with anything that would prevent us from getting back to the institute quickly… like a sick snot-nosed brat.”

Peter sat up straighter at this comment. He was almost 20-years-old, far too old and experienced to be referred to as a brat. “I’m not a kid,” he said sharply, feeling the rough words drag against his sore throat. He winced slightly and reached for the radio dial, hoping beyond hope that it would work this time. No luck. Erik cleared his throat, “I didn’t say kid.” Peter shot him another glare and leaned back against the cold window, trying to stop his body from shaking against the lukewarm air that barely whispered past the vents. “Besides,” he said softly, closing his eyes, “I can’t even get sick. It’s has to do with genetics or chemistry or some shit. My cells regenerate quickly, so it would be basically impossible to get sick.” I hope, he added inwardly.

After a couple of minutes he was back to his pitiful sleep, leaving Erik to mull over this comment. Was it true he couldn’t get sick? He knew when Peter had broken his leg fighting En Sabah Nur it had only taken about 2 weeks to heal completely, but was it physically true that the kid was incapable of getting sick? Unfortunately, we’re not sure, a voice echoed in his head; Erik jerked the car left and slammed on the brakes, caught off guard with the telepath’s sudden resurface. “Charles,” he growled, “What do you want!” Usually Erik could feel Charles picking through his brain but, considering he had been momentarily preoccupied, he hadn’t felt him this time.

The car rattled again, vibrating the whole frame and Erik gripped the steering wheel harder, thinking for the millionth time today, that the car was going to fall apart. They were stuck in the middle of nowhere, 10 hours away from Manchester, in the dead of winter with a shitty car that seemed to run on willpower alone, and a broken AC unit which meant minimal heat. He still didn’t understand why Kurt couldn’t come get them. Or why Peter couldn’t run them back. Or why Charles couldn’t fly his big fucking fancy war jet down here. Hell, he was the reason they were in this mess in the first place, the least he could do was give them a fucking ride back.

Yes it is true that his body regenerates faster than mine or yours, but I fear the question is, how much is Peter able to take before his body no longer heals itself quickly, Charles said softly. Erik let out a half-choked scoff, “You haven’t performed any little experiments on him yet?” He closed his eyes briefly as the words left his mouth, knowing they were wrong. Charles was known to push his mutants to their breaking points to better prepare them for the future and strengthen their power, but not once has he performed hurtful experiments deliberately. Erik should know this better than anyone. I would never endanger him Erik, nor would I ever dream of intentionally endangering any of my other pupils, Charles remarked sternly. Erik scoffed and clenched his teeth together trying to think of anything else but what he was suggesting. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, looking at the rearview mirror wobble slightly from hidden anger, knowing Charles was already aware of his next thought. You are suggesting that being forced to drive back to Manchester alone puts Peter in danger… of you, he whispered softly, oh my dear friend. Erik’s blood boiled, the car began shaking again, and small metal splinters were beginning to break from the useless frame. His mind flashed to Nina, seeing the fear in her eyes as her father was being taken away, seeing the light go out in her eyes… if only she hadn’t known him… if only he had left them when she was born, then she would still be alive. He didn’t have time to drive some stupid kid back to Manchester, nor did he have time to play Charles’s stupid mind games. The mission had failed; the girl was dead, just as his daughter was dead. He had let both of them down, and now, because he was unable to protect them, he had no one. He couldn’t protect Peter, he didn’t want to protect Peter; Peter wasn’t his kid.

Erik could feel the inadequate metal frame twisting under his rage, he could feel the metal breaking from the car piece by piece; the car beginning to jerk, desperately trying to power through the wintery hell as it was being torn apart by an unknown force. Erik! Stop this! Charles yelled. Erik sucked in a breath, the car stopped shaking, the mirrors stopped seizing and the metal objects that had peeled from the car’s frame fell to the floor softly. Erik sucked in another sharp breath feeling tears pricking his eyes as Nina’s face flashed across his mind. Oh Erik, you are perhaps more capable than you know. There is a reason I sent you and Peter to find the girl, just as there is a reason I cannot send someone to come get you, Charles said softly. I cannot undo what has been done, the girl died, it wasn’t your fault. Neither was Nina’s death. Erik, you are not a weapon, you are not an enemy, and you are not a danger to those around you… unless you choose to be. But Erik, know this, to me, you are and will always be a friend.

Peter groaned slightly, curling in on himself and shifting again trying to find a comfortable spot for his long legs. He felt like shit, and the jerking of the car wasn’t helping anything. He pressed his head harder against the window and wondered if Erik even knew how to drive. The car continued to jerk, and Peter could feel the tires sliding lazily against the icy roads. His stomach turned again and Peter swallowed loudly. He’d only been sick once since he got his powers and even that was barely a headache. But now, his head was killing him, his stomach was making him regret three boxes of Hostess products, and despite being wrapped inside a warm hoodie that was at least 2X bigger than he was, he was still cold.

Peter swallowed again, and straightened a little in his seat. His felt saliva drowning his mouth and he groaned again as his stomach tightened, “ugh, Erik man, pull over.” Erik turned the windshield wipers back on as sleet began to fall, and looked over at Peter. The kid was hunched forward, his hand pressed against the dash, his headphones still wrapped around his neck loosely. Sweat was beginning to drip down his pale face. He coughed harshly, covering his mouth with his hand, hoping to stifle the rough sound. Peter swallowed again, “Erik- Erik, please-” He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Peter lurched forward, expelling whatever stomach acid and digested food was trying to leave his body. Erik jerked the car, and cursed loudly. He pulled to the side of the road and sat there for a second, unsure of what to do. Peter groaned as he lurched forward again, coughing up pre-digested Twinkies and whatever else he had possibly eaten that day. Erik cleared his throat, and pressed his hand firmly on the speedsters back, hoping that he was able to bring a small amount of comfort to the puking kid. Peter sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, stopping any tears from falling because there was no way in hell he was going to cry in front of Erik… no matter how miserable he felt. He coughed loudly, feeling his stomach churn and pressed his hand harder against the dash.

Erik sat there, awkwardly patting the speedster’s shoulder, and inwardly asking Charles for help. He had no idea what to do. If Nina was here, he would step into action and try to make her feel better or even make her laugh but, this was some random kid. He cleared his throat again as Peter let out another harsh cough. “Easy… easy kid… Peter, easy” he said softly. Peter sucked in a breath, trying to calm his stomach, trying to stop shaking. Erik pulled his hand away; sweat was beginning to soak through Peter’s over-sized sweatshirt and despite the coolness of the air, Erik could feel the heat radiating off the teenager.  

“I- Shit, I’m I’m s-sorry man. Fuck, I’m really sorry.” Peter slurred, leaning his head against the window and closing his eyes. God his head was spinning. When was the last time he was this ill? Fuck, when was the last time he was sick? His cells regenerated faster than normal- he shouldn’t get sick, right? He crossed his arms over his stomach, hoping the pressure would help relieve the remaining nausea. He coughed again, swallowing the acidic taste of vomit, wishing he had some water to wash the taste out of his mouth.

Erik gripped the steering wheel again, turning back towards the road, “Look kid, we’re only a few hours out, just- we’ll be there soon. Alright?” Erik said, turning back towards Peter. The kid was an utter mess. He was leaning his head back against the headrest; his forehead was pressed against the window. His loose curls were plastered to his forehead; his headphones had slipped off and fell to the floor, nearly missing the mess that decorated Peter’s shoes and the floor of the shitty car.  He nodded weakly, curling further in his seat, trying to make himself small. All he wanted to do was sleep. He never knew he could feel this bad. He shifted again in his seat, the smell of the car was enough to make him sick again, and he winced slightly as his right side lit up with pain. He closed his eyes and focused on the sleet beating against the window.

Erik started the car and sat there drumming his finger against the steering wheel. He glanced at the sign across the road that told him he was at least 20 miles from the next town, 9 hours from Manchester. You can’t keep going, Charles said softly.

I can Charles, and I will. Look we are only a half day’s drive. We’ll be there before midnight. Surely the kid will be fine, Erik thought. He heard Charles sigh, Erik, look at him. Erik glanced over at the slumbering kid once more and winced. Vomit decorated not only the entire passenger side but Peter’s clothes as well. It was not a pleasant sight, and Erik felt sort of sorry for the boy. Pink had crept onto his face, painting his cheeks, letting it be known that the kid had a fever. He could hear the rough ragged breathing coming from Peter as he struggled to breathe through a congested nose. His silver locks were a chaotic mess and stuck up in different directions. He glanced back towards the road, gripping the steering wheel once more, fighting the urge to break it in half. Erik, he needs to stop. He needs rest. I don’t know what causes this illness because I’ve never seen him sick. If you push him further, who knows how worse he could get. Who knows how worse he will get.

Erik scoffed, Charles, we don’t have time for this! I don’t have time for this! The mission is over, we need to get back. I need to get back! I don’t have time to play dad to a strange kid! You said this was the last mission and then I could leave. You said- Look- I’m not tending to a stupid-

I know what I said. It can wait for a few days, and so can you. Erik, look at him. He needs to rest. What would you do if he was Nina?

Erik cursed again, and stared at the sleet falling from the sky. He glanced back over at Peter to find the kid staring at him through half shut eyes. Peter stifled a cough and wiped his nose with his sleeve. What would you do if he was Nina? Erik sighed, “Look… kid… the weather is getting pretty bad out here and Charles thinks there might be a blizzard or something heading our way. So, um, I think we should call it a day, okay? We’ll pick up where we left off tomorrow, bright and early.” Peter mumbled something as he shifted in his seat, turning back to look out the window. He just wanted to lie down and maybe a new change of clothes. His head was spinning and the heat that coursed through his body was making it hard to concentrate. He closed his eyes again as Erik pulled back onto the main road and headed towards the nearest town.



Listening to my fav ost and doodling ended up making bunch of arc v & madness returns crossover. 

What happen when the Kurosakis fall down the rabbit hole? who knows…

I’m really tired that is the only reason this happened

also if someone asks what the hell this is just tell them it’s a clock and a notepad falling asleep on a tv that will obviously explain everything I bet they both snore really badly

“Lord and Lady of the Underworld” - Digital Oil Painting

She put on the gown to impress him and was shocked to find he’d cut his hair to impress her. Perhaps love isn’t impossible, even in the Underworld.

My last in this series (for a while, anyway) so I can work on the next one, hot guys with cute animals. ^_^

If you enjoy my art, please consider subscribing to my Patreon! I am saving to buy a wheelchair lift.

Yansim rivals x Until dawn characters

Megami: Sam (literally so perfect and my wife)
Osoro: Josh (problematic fav)
Osana: Chris (cONFESS)
Oka: Ash (lil sad and anxious bby)
Asu: Matt (macho teddy bear)
Kizana: Emily (snobbish snob)
Mida: Mike (innuendos fuckboi)
Muja: Jess (bewbs and booti)
Amai: Beth (just wants to help, also food ;;))) Jesus)
Hanako: Hannah (names also BruTA and childish child)

“R- Red, are you alright?” The robot stopped in the doorway.

.. Mighty?!” Red sat up where he was, only to cough into the crook of his arm and sink back on the couch. Sniffling, his present cold couldn’t kill his present enthusiasm. “What’re you doing here?”

“Ah, I was here to help Black, but I heard you caught a cold.. How are you feeling right now?”

“Invincible!” he proclaimed. Then he vehemently coughed again, shivering subtly. “.. K- Kinda.”

A worried look vexed Mighty’s features. “Don’t worry, I’ll start making soup for you right away.”

“Seriously? You’d do that for me?” Touched, his brown eyes widened.

A brief nod. “I would, and I will. I would even stay if–”

He was cut off, however, when Red hooked an arm around his shoulders, laughing excitably. “Hey guys, you hear that?! Mighty’s back!”

“N- No wait, I never said I’d–!”