#stormlings

[hailstormchase]

It's been a while since I posted art, so here's Verde, my agent/captain 3, aka Tres. She's an electric type stormling! (I figured my friends on discord have seen this but not tumblr)

[hailstormchase]

Inkfish definitely do this-

I know my stormlings/Typelings do

Nonhuman expressions of affection are great. Purring. Exposing weak points as a show of trust. Head bonks. Preening and chewing. Nuzzling. Biting. Intertwining tails. Feeding each other. Little chuffs, chatters, beeps and squeaks. Fluffing up of feathers, fur or other things. Dancing to impress. Cleaning their fur, scales, feathers or skin. Sharing body heat. Ears pointing toward those you care about to show your full attention is on them. Slow blinking.

[waterghostype]

concept: akita in the administration. girl who was raised in a small community in a forest in a whole mystical realm just gets transported into a corporate office. forced to follow nonsense orders but doesnt even know about her whole life and family she spent years fighting for. now going after the people she loves just because she’s told to becoming the person she dedicated her whole being to going against. bi-weekly fights with jay over printer ink.

[asketchydomesticatedgremlin]

gris grimly style my beloved... fun fact! my favorite childhood story was "The Masque of the Red Death" from the tales of mystery n madness book :D

this campaign runs half like slay the spire and its goofy, blue boi there got a wilder magic card (rolls a d8 to see which table to actually wild on) but tragically had to get rid of it after it nearly fused 2 guards together n then caused a gnome corpse rain.

as you can see, the purple lady (no she isn't a warforged, shes a bug thing) diiiidnt quite like that.

minor TW! no eyes/mild gore below

salty ass lil lady with family issues, she does NOT cope well.

[blueishspace]

Hybrid Genetics p8

Breeze

Avian + Breeze = Thunderbird.

Starborn + Breeze = Nebula.

Angel + Breeze = White Phoenix.

Demon + Breeze = Stormling.

Breeze + Blazeborn = Pyrocumulus.

Breeze + Glare = Pollened.

Breeze + Vex = Anemoi.

Breeze + Triton = Oceanid.

Breeze + Eldritch = ...mist.

Enderian + Breeze= End Breeze.

Ogre + Breeze = Wind Ogre.

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[hailstormchase]

All, that's so sweet! I imagine my ocs would've joined in and wrecked havoc, a wild thundstorms raging outside certain locations of grizzco, sandstorms near Splatzville's, plants and metal moving and taking eggs, ice fogging cameras, fire causing the systems to overheat, shadows and darkness cutting camera feeds.....and some eggs getting stolen for some hungry stormlings. Stormlings are omnivores, after all, but are a bit more predatory.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO SPLOON3 AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO NEO3!!!

(On the phone screen being shown to Neo3 is likely a leaked Grizzco document about how all the eggs had gone missing)

There is no way the platoon wont pull all the stops to make the day happy for their favorite salmon-raised shithead. Doesnt matter that they havent had proper sleep for the last 2 days.More deets below regarding the feat….

For years, things have been simmering below the surface of Grizzco. Upstarts in the ranks, dissatisfied workers, *vengeful* inkfish, salmonid sympathizers who infiltrated the system to find out how to help, much like the platoon.

Crack teams. Strike forces. secret unions.

There isnt a BIG number of them, and none of them really worked together like a well-oiled machine, but they all had the goal of tearing this damn corporation/mafia apart.

For a variety of reasons, really. For poor conditions or pay. For the deaths of their coworkers. To investigate the big runs in hopes of stopping more in the future. To steal the eggs and return them to sea.

The platoon pokes here and there, and does their own share of this backbreaking work. The second everyone got paid... these groups opened the floodgates. Theres a lot of em, grizzco cant get em all. (And the activities cant be tracked back to the platoon, unlike other times like the Cap4 saga.)

Nobody knew they were working alongside the legendary NSS.

----------

A pal of mine puts it best...

Imagine knowing your partner, sibling, best friend died and finding out it wasn't just them dying defending the places... they died cause some corporate fuck orchestrated the whole series of big runs.

And in the future, these groups catch wind of what the NSS knows. That the big runs were all Grizzco made. This drives most of the shills into a frenzy. Most of all the high-value volunteers who were only there for the grand run but was trapped by the corporation.

---------

Come a whole 24 hours after the grand run, Grizzco starts panicking.

because only 700 million eggs remained in their stores.

Thats what Neo3 gets for her birthday -- the fact that all the extra eggs were returned to the sea. It rejuvenates her to fight for the future, now that there IS a future to fight for.

More raids continued after, 3 putting her squarely in that leadership position for the NSS's strike force (now including 7 and the crew from the Cap4 arc!)

Eventually, only 500 mil remained. And then grizzco goes on lockdown and....well, lets just say they made some people disappear. None from the platoon's strike force, thankfully. Most were grizzco's own shills, up in the higher ranks. Blamed for the loss of the eggs *and* for not making the number back.

-----------

I wont say tgere werent any casualties on the upstarts, though. Some were caught and are in serious danger from the mafia, though none fell under the jurisdiction of the NSS. The fact is, the NSS wasnt aware of a lot of these cases due to how fractured all the upstarts are. (It allows the movement as a whole to not be immediately shut down after a few get caught, or something. So they say.)

(bonus pic without the caption!)

[solemn-siren]

Savior of scratchcraft

I’ve been toying around with a version of my persona but as a resident in Storm’s port city and I came up with a concept of a potion maker who is too busy for the life of her to take care of herself and isn’t very good at anything outside of potions.

I came up with this short story concept of alchemist!Siren’s failed attempt at getting dragon’s breath and the god who had to save her… again.

Tw: violence, injury, near death?

To make tipped arrows you need lingering potions, and to make lingering potions you need dragon’s breath.

Siren was just hoping that the diamonds she spend buying end crystals from Jor was worth the amount of pain she had to go through just to get dragon’s breath.

Buying end crystals was only the easy part. When you live in a port city under the eyes of a god and you make potions, you’re already in the perfect spot to rake in diamonds. When you knew how to read the market and predict what customers want, that was how she rose to the top.

She still had plenty left to go around to bulk orders of other ingredients.

She did not have enough to make better gear.

So here she was, in the end, with the dragon she summoned, with no armor. Just her elytra and her bow and tons of glass bottles.

The end crystals atop the obsidian pillars were perhaps the easiest to deal with. All she had to do was fly above the endless sea of void, take aim, and let loose her arrow at the deadly crystal.

The dragon was not.

If she was skilled enough she would’ve captured the acidic fireballs it shot and collected the dragon’s breath within it. Alas, she had already been warned enough times about danger so she decided to not do anything about it.

The dragon hovered above the end portal, its silver claws perched atop the bedrock structure. It reared its head back, and Siren grabbed as many bottles as she could in one hand and a rocket in the other, landing on one of the obsidian pillars, she waited for the dragon to make its move.

“Any second now…”

The ended dragon let out a large breath attack, with nearby endermen fleeing from the cone of draconian energy. Lingering behind where the cone went, was an ether like cloud of its breath.

“Bingo.”

Siren fired her rocket, diving down from her obsidian pillar and towards the dragon. Bringing out the bottles in her hand, she passed it through the ether cloud before using another rocket to take off into the air, soaring above the obsidian pillars.

The bottles were now filled with dragon’s breath, and before any could escape Siren closed the bottles. She had made this special glass bottle for ‘dragon breath’ hunting purposes. They could close quickly with only one flick of her fingers and she could close multiple at once.

Putting the dragon’s breath away, she thought to herself. She had about a stack and a half of bottles left to go.

Can’t be that hard? Right?

Unfortunately the dragon had stopped perching atop the portal and was now behind Siren, its wings sending gale force winds below her.

“You got to be kidding me-“

The dragon shot its fire at Siren, landed dead center on the alchemist who was sent flying into one of the obsidian pillars.

Snap. There went her elytra. If she had a sword or a pick maybe she could slow her fall. She had none of those, so she was doomed to fall onto the end stone below with a splat.

“Ow.”

She flicked her wrist, bringing up a holographic panel. Majority of the hearts that had shown up were black and shattered, just one half of the last heart remained, glowing dimly.

“Half a heart. I’m dead.”

She had absolutely nothing to regenerate her own hearts.

“Maybe I will accept death for once.”

She didn’t hear the thundering sound of the ended dragon being slain or the nearby endermen suddenly acting off for their kind.

She only realized it all when she saw a line of lightning darting between the obsidian pillars before coming down in front of her. The lightning quickly transformed into a tall endermen with silver armor.

Stormlordzeus, the god who built the port city, the god they worshipped.

And her savior.

Again.

Even the endermen around him bowed down and began to chant in galactic as he stood up to his full height. The armor he wore began to shift, completely removed by magic and revealing his hoodie attire.

“…Hi there.” Siren said, raising one hand and slowly waving. Storm glared down, his teal green pearl eyes resembling the eyes of ender in the over world portal.

“You realize we’re in the double digits now right?” He asked, still menacingly staring down at her. “I keep telling you, you can just pay someone else to go get dragon’s breath for you, not go get them yourself! What made you think you could do this?”

Siren shrugged, it was her thing at this rate.

“Wait how did you know I was in the end?” she asked, still staring at the holographic half a heart.

“You don’t do a good job of hiding where you are.” Storm answered, crouching down to her level. “Jor told me you bought end crystals from him, the exact number needed to summon the dragon. And you only have one good reason for summoning the ender dragon.”

You know, he had a point.

“So? What did the dragon do to you?”

“Fireball.” Siren answered, pointing to the singed ends of her hair. Although it was ebony black, several ends of her hair was singed a magic pink, because this wasn’t any kind of fire, it was magical fire.

Storm shook his head in disappointment. “It’s magical injury isn’t it…” he muttered, looking away. “Can you walk?”

Siren raised up the holographic half a heart.

Storm stared at the faintly glowing heart in shock. “Half a heart?!” He shouted, spooking the nearby endermen. “You were lucky, but don’t rely on it too much from now on okay? I’m carrying you back all the way to the port, free of charge, but if I hear that you’re in the end again-“

“-there’s an even worse punishment waiting for you.”

“Alright I get it.” Siren groaned, taking Storm’s hand as the god helped her back onto her feet. It was disorienting and slightly uncomfortable to stand on two legs again, but she couldn’t fly back because her elytra was broken, the splintered wood and phantom membrane scattered on the end stone.

“Still the savior of scratchcraft aren’t you?” She added as the endermen parted from the god as they walked towards the portal. “You’re still the same, god or not.”

“Shut up.” Storm grumbled, but she had a point. As long as the scratchcrafters, the citizens of his city, and the world bowed down before him, he would protect them all until his last breath.

[hailstormchase]

I'm bored, so, Have a Hail-

She's my agent 4 oc, and the first outfit is an alternate agent outfit inspired by Splatroad series Lightroad (mainly the city of Nexus Lazer......boy this definitely aged me by a few years) Hail happens to be an ice type stormling.

And the second one I hail in her pajamas checking out a strange mark she found on her back sometime after a mission (with her guardian Sombra helping try and figure out where it came from....with little success. Also, pajamas outfit for Sombra too, because why not) Sombra is Hail’s guardian, and is a ghost/dark type, able to dissappear and reappear at will, and shift into a shadow wolf form

[hailstormchase]

Why the stormlings/Typelings have a dislike towards the calamari inkantation, in a nutshell

The squid sisters have yet to figure it out-

Octavio has.....only because he's seen the agents go feral

Be careful with what song you choose for your alarm clock, it will be ingrained in your DNA but not in a good way

[isabellebissonrouthier]

A Storm's Ghost

A short piece of original writing. Ask if you want to be tagged in my future writing!

WARNINGS: Mild Violence, Blood, Mentioned Death

TAGLIST: @diemohnblume

WRITING MASTERPOST

***

Her feet pounded against the rooftops like rain in a storm, like lightning striking the ground, like the booming rumble of thunder.

Thud. Thud.

Thud. Thud.

Thud. Thud.

Were all those thuds her boots - well-worn and shining like new - or was her heart simply pounding so violently in her chest that the sounds became one?

She had no time to ponder it, though she was sure it was both. She had to focus.

She had to focus, or she would lose.

She could not slow down, either. She could not slip up. She could not trip and stumble into the alleyways between buildings; that was a sure-fire way to break something: to be caught and unmasked, even killed. And, more than anything, it was sure-fire way to lose the one she chased, chased, chased.

She could not let that happen again.

His laughs were loud, echoing against the sky - above the wind that swirled around her, and with the distance between them growing with every passing second - and they made her stomach churn. Even as he ran, he spun and danced and twirled, twirled, twirled: never slowing, never stopping, simply catching her eye and winking, as if nothing delighted him more than making her chase.

Her scowl deepened, her heart racing like never before, and she raised her left hand. In an instant, it was burning, and she was sure - like always - that it would leave a scar behind when she peeled off her costume at the end of the day.

It never did.

Instead, lightning shot right from her open palm, darting through the air like a bullet, and struck the rooftop just as he reached its edge.

As always, it went right through him, striking the roof and nothing else, and his cackles made her shake with rage. He leapt to another building, landing and rolling, his laughs never fading, even as he got to his feet and continued to run.

"There's a reason I'm called Ghost, Stormling!" he called back, over his shoulder.

Ghost then spun around once more - not for function, but simply for the fun of it - and stuck his tongue out like he was jabbing at the air, before turning forward and continuing to run.

Stormling almost snarled, and tried to speed up, but her limbs were beginning to ache, as if weighed down by heavy bricks. Still, she pushed through, though Ghost seemed utterly unreachable. He ran, and the faster he ran, the more the distance between them grew and grew and grew.

She leapt to the next building, and tried oh-so hard to catch up.

The wind still swirled around Stormling, and it whispered and whispered and whispered, too: nothing of consequence, of course - wind was wind, after all - but every so often there was a burst of encouragement, echoing in her mind like that was where it had come from. Words were almost uttered, but Stormling could not understand anything it said.

She tried to listen, but her focus was elsewhere.

Her hands clenched into fists, and she willed the wind into doing more than simple whispers and hisses. It lifted her from the ground - almost dropping her, with the effort it took to wield it - and, after a moment to adjust her position, it launched her forward.

She soared right over Ghost's head, and landed right in his path.

He blinked, recoiling backwards in alarm, and she leapt at him. Her nails - uncovered by her fingerless gloves - scraped against his cheek for a single moment, drawing blood, before her fingers passed right through his face.

Ghost smiled, stepping back - smug, even with the lines of blossoming ruby - and waggled his fingers in her face.

Shit. She should have gone for his mask, not for what hurt.

"Not so powerful against an enemy like me, huh?" he teased. "You're all good against fire and ice, against teleportation and speed, even against mind control and invisibility. But it's me - little, innocent me - that you can never, ever win against."

"You aren't innocent," Stormling snapped, fury building like a pot, ready to overflow. "You've committed more crimes than I can count!"

Ghost smirked. "You can't count very high, huh?"

Stormling snarled, and sent another gust of wind right at Ghost, aiming to push him right from the tall, towering building that was the scene of their battle. It, of course, simply passed right through him.

Her body ached more with every passing moment. Would she even win if he chose to fight with his hands?

She had the experience, but he did not ache, ache, ache, and seemed to never even grow fatigued, not for a moment. He could run and hide and burn and hurt, and would simply move on in an instant, as if he had never done anything in the first place.

And Ghost was known for his unpredictability.

His expression twisted into an exaggerated, mocking frown.

"Tired, Stormling?" he mocked. "Does the little hero need a nap?"

"Fuck you," she spat back.

Ghost smiled, and leant in, a glint of amusement in his eye: the brown - like earth, like shadows, like syrup - alight with mocking delight. For a moment, his irises captured Stormling's gaze with an unignorable force.

Then, he spoke.

"If you want to fuck me, all you've gotta do is ask. And, you know, take off that little costume of yours."

Despite herself, Stormling's mouth fell open. For a moment, all she did was stare.

Ghost seemed content to watch her cheeks turn crimson, and did not yet attack her with any of the weapons tucked under his cloak. He simply smiled.

Stormling's burning face suddenly twisted into rage.

"You're sick," she spat.

Ghost shrugged, and then smiled once more.

"Perhaps," he said. "But you're no better than I am."

Stormling recoiled, and then glared.

"You're insane if you think we have anything in common."

Ghost tilted his head, looking her over with an amusement that only ever seemed to grow, never fading or dimming, even in the direst of battles. His smile then returned, taking its usual place on his dark lips.

He spread his arms, his cloak rising to show off the various weapons strapped to his belt.

A gun and a sword, a dagger and some kind of laser. A watch that froze those unfortunate enough to be struck by the hands. A ring that would grow into a shield.

A grappling hook that Stormling immediately recognised as hers.

When had he taken it?

"Heroes and villains are all the same, aren't we? One cannot exist without the other. A hero needs a villain. A villain needs a hero. It's a delicate balance; it's a delicate dance. I mean, where would you be without me?"

"Fighting someone else."

"And without them?"

Stormling paused, and then made the decision not to answer. Instead, she glared.

If she was quick, she could strike his temple and knock him unconscious, before he even got the opportunity to become utterly untouchable. And once he was unconscious, she could...

"You'd be working an ordinary job, living an ordinary life," Ghost said, startling her out of her thoughts. "And how boring would that be?"

Stormling did not answer that, either. Instead, her hand twitched over to the knife she had, hidden in a pocket of her super-suit. Its handle was heavy and blunt; it could easily be used to knock an enemy to the ground and out cold.

Ghost took a step back, like he knew - always knew - of her plans. His hands raised as if ready to push her away.

"Well, as fun as this has been, hero, I really must get going." He grinned. "I have places to be, things to do. And you... well, I'm sure you'll find something to keep you entertained."

He turned on his heel, and started to sprint.

In an instant, Stormling was chasing after him. She could not let him get away, not again, and-

Ghost leapt off the side of the building, his laughs echoing with the wind - pure, cruel delight, and manic, enthusiastic glee - and Stormling barely managed not to scream, though she did suck in a breath through her teeth.

She scrambled to the edge, almost uncaring about her own safety, and peered over with widened eyes.

There was no splatter on the pavement, no body to be found, nor anyone hanging over the edge. There were simply people wandering the streets, not even looking up at the hero who protected them with every ounce of her being.

And there was no sign of Ghost.

She stared and she stared; she searched and she searched.

Nothing.

She paused, and then her eyes closed.

Fuck.

Not again.

[gamerbulten]

Transient İnceleme ...

[femmefaggot]

i would top kaladin if he asked btw i just think hed find it too vulnerable and not very fun to do more than like once or Maybe twice. ok now quickly think about the existence of strap ons in the storml. HOLD ON HE COULD. sorry. change gears. think about. surgebinding.

[hailstormchase]

My neo has by far the worst home life of my agents-

As her parents were murdered when she was 3 (thieves broke in), so she raised herself in the middle of the woods, stealing food from farm fields and such-

She then got caught by Connor when she tried to steal from him when she was 12, he then helped raise her, so she's not completely feral :)

Love my little agent Crayfish

just something i'm curious about

[ventureswithbooks]

“I want to stand beside you as you turn this place upside down and build anew.” - Rage . . 🌟QOTD: Who was the last author you met? . . Today’s the day!!!! I am SO SO EXCITED!!! Today I get to go to @coracarmack Rage event here in Chicago...well Downer’s Grove which is like an hour away but that’s beside the point!! I absolutely love meeting authors and Cora is one of my favorites!! Plus I will finally get my hands on the finished copy of Rage and get it signed as well as my copies of Roar!!! I am beyond lucky to have an amazing bookstore nearby that gets all these amazing authors!!! The next couple of months are going to be crazy with The Fierce Reads tour, Leigh Bardugo and Holly Black all coming to the area!!! I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend!! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . #coracarmack #roar #rage #stormlings #therageseasonishere #ragetour #flatlaystyle #booknerd #instareads #bookaesthetic #ventureswithbooks #booklife #booksofinstagram #bookworm #yafiction #yabooks #bookishfeatures #bookstagramer #bookstagramit #flowerlove https://www.instagram.com/p/B27dgMzg88i/?igshid=vs7k1frfenmp

[walterkov]

► Transient

[blueishspace]

i want to be a stormling so bad.

Yeah, that would be cool wouldn't it?