this is so cool oh my god
I need Erik the storm, Charles the skyscraper.
With optional cloud piercing and sudden lightning discharges.
In fandom I trust.
You’ve got to stop doing this, Charles creaked, though it was the last thing he wanted. It isn’t fair to the people.
I don’t care about the people. I need you. Erik whirled, a glorious inundation of moisture, northerly winds, and electricity. You’re so conductive.
Erik was eying Charles’ copper ornamentation on his upper storeys.
But you could hurt them.
You’re underestimating them. They always rebound. Like pestilence. They’ll be fine.
Charles apparently took too long in trying to form a rebuttal, because Erik’s fog rolled in, smothering the low rise buildings instantly. Charles could the surge of atomized mist and crackling current while Erik’s millions and millions of pounds of pressure moved in to surround Charles’ spires.
had to continue this…
Charles tried to hold steady in Erik’s winds. Please remain calm, he wanted to reassure the thousands of people he harbored, I can flex several feet with no harm whatsoever, but loud shrieks in the restaurant on the 95th floor told him it was too late.
Charles. Erik was fully upon him. I’m going to—
The first lightning strike lit every window simultaneously, then thunderous sound waves roared through the elevator shafts down into Charles’s five-level underground parking structure. The temperature outside dropped twenty degrees in a matter of seconds. Thousands of hailstones the size of human fists struck Charles’s copper-clad spires.
At least the hailstones will be down to the size of peas by the time they reach the sidewalk, Charles reassured himself. Erik, are you quite done? But Charles knew the answer was No. Erik carried enough energy to satisfy the continental United States’ electrical needs for a week.
The hail turned to torrential rain, blurring the view through Charles’s windows. Charles. Are you all right? Erik sounded relaxed — as well he should, after discharging lightning bolts averaging 270,000 mph. His winds lessened dramatically.
I’m fine, thanks for asking. Charles failed to sound sarcastic, perhaps from gratitude. In the lighter winds, he could hold steady, ending the swaying so distressing to his human occupants. But as the rain continued to fall, Charles was alarmed. A reduction in Erik’s windspeed meant…
Erik. You can’t stay. You’ll cause catastrophic flooding.
I suppose I could move on, Erik said after a pause. If I hurry, I can catch the fishing boats still not back to the docks.
Charles sighed down to the bottom of his steel frame, which was anchored in enough cement to build four Hoover dams. If you’re going to stick around, Erik… Well. You haven’t struck my southwestern spire yet.
Charles had barely got the words out when Erik’s lightning struck with precision, heating the air around the spire to 50,000 degrees. For a moment, Charles was blissfully unaware of everything else — the malfunctioning escalator in the lobby, the parapet gutters overflowing with rain, and the people hiding under tables in the restaurant.
Better? Erik sounded smug.
No need to be so dramatic, darling.
Erik laughed. The resulting downdraft moved at a hundred miles per hour, but barely rattled Charles’s windows, each of which could absorb the force of a two-ton impact without shattering.
Please, Erik. Continue. I can take it. It was Charles’s turn to sound smug. Do your worst.
I always do, Charles.
But Erik softened his rain, wrapping Charles in a warm mist, Charles’s highest spire piercing Erik’s clouds in time to catch the lowering sun’s light. Until it set, they were alone together in the midst of the city.