the hailstorm


Startling new report shows just how terrible things still are for LGBTQ kids

  • A report released on Wednesday by Human Rights Watch reveals that despite the “positive trends” for LGBTQ rights this past decade things are still pretty horrible for lots of young LGBTQ people.
  • For some, just getting through the day is like, as one parent of a gender nonconforming student put it, “walking through a hailstorm” of hostility every school day.
  •  LGBTQ youth, according to the report, still “have disproportionately high rates of homelessness, physical and mental health concerns, and suicidality.” Read more

Pebbles (NSFW)

Sixpenceee Stories Contest (September - October 2016) Second Place Winner

Story by Sixpenceee user UnsettlingStories; Tumblr

We thought we were having a hell of a hailstorm when we woke up in the middle of the night to a peal of thunder and the sound of our cabin being pelted. It went on for about a minute, then it stopped. There wasn’t any rain, which was strange. We went back to sleep, faintly aware of the smell of something burning. I figured it was probably from a lightning strike somewhere else.

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 Being Brock Rumlow’s daughter and flirting with the Winter Soldier and sneaking him goodies when no one’s looking.

 ••• Requested by Anon •••

Your father had left you with a switchblade and a firearm when he had left you alone in your apartment with the infamous assassin. He had told you not to speak to him or even look in his direction, but your father obviously didn’t know you that well if he actually thought you’d listen to him.

The man - the Winter Soldier your father had called him - was seated in the corner of your living room, completely still, staring straight down the hall at your front door. He had tousled dark brown hair, which was thick and lustrous, but looked as if it hadn’t been washed in days. His eyes were a mesmerizing deep ocean blue that were set in a chilling glare that, were he looking right at you, made you feel like you were standing in the nude in a vicious hailstorm, where every chunk of ice was a frosted dagger cutting down into your skin.

Silence lingered in the air. You felt almost claustrophobic where you sat awkwardly on your couch, waiting for your father to return and take his business elsewhere, but as time ticked by you felt the anxiety leap up into your throat. Jumping up suddenly, you left the gun and your cold coffee mug behind as you made your way over to the fridge. You could feel the Winter Soldier’s eyes on you as you moved around. Grabbing two bars of chocolate from the fridge door, you marched over to him and threw one of the chocolates his way.

He caught it with ease; his mechanical arm darting out to catch it before it hit him square in the face. 

“You don’t have a peanut allergy, do you?” You asked to him, hopping onto the table in front of him, obscuring his view of the front door. “Peanuts and chocolate are definitely one of my favourite combinations.”

You crossed your legs and unwrapped your chocolate. He didn’t make a move to eat his, and instead furrowed his brow and met your intense gaze with his own. 

“Did you know that there’s a chemical in chocolate called phenethylamine that stimulates the nervous system and triggers the release of pleasurable opium-like compounds known as endorphins? It also occurs whenever someone is in love - gives you a happy, giddy feeling.” You said, biting into your chocolate and wiggling your eyebrows at him in a dopey flirty way.

The Soldier’s eyes left yours for a moment and he slowly unwrapped the chocolate you had given him. A sense of accomplishment consumed you as he lifted the sweet up to his lips and bit off a corner. You almost missed the tiny amused smile he wore as his eyes met yours again.

so here is your throne.
here are the prejudices that you call home.
here are the eyes of young girls closing,
locker room doors opening, 
patchwork pulled from the seams,
skin pulled from the seams
to hang up as curtains.

so here is what you didn’t care about:
new york city, a hand down my pants in the subway
and me, not wanting to upset him.
my grandmother with her back bent over an ancestry,
trying to carry it home.

look her in the eye, she’s engaged to her girlfriend,
tell her that she matters
with yesterday’s facebook status “lol not going to vote.”

so here is your future,
a room full of red hats and plastic masks
using skin color as curse words,
using “she” as a symptom,
using hate in a hailstorm as shelter.

turn off the television
and look in the mirror.
there is his throne.

—  great again // naiche lizzette

While Roopkund, also commonly referred to as “Skeleton Lake”, is an extremely beautiful lake in a scenic, uninhabited, location in the Himalayas, it hides a very morbid secret. When the snow melts and the ice thaws, this lake reveals the grisly origin of the nickname it has earned: human skeletons rest at the bottom. Skeletons, spearheads, leather slippers, and rings are also scattered around the lake, making the area quite macabre. It is the final resting place of approximately 300 human bodies. It’s unsure of how these people died but they were first discovered in 1942. Even more bizarre is that an investigation revealed that all of these people perished at the same time, first of all indicating that this was some sort of massacre; the bones showed signs of blunt force trauma to the skull. One theory is that the group were caught in a severe hailstorm with no shelter. DNA testing also suggests that these bones date back to around 840AD, meaning that these skeletons had been in their glacial tombs for over 1,000 years before being discovered.

Thomas Hart Benton, The Hailstorm, 1940.

>Because in this country we have something called a justice system which requires trials and convictions and sentencings.
>He’s not still on trial, he’s been convicted and he’s in the sentencing phase.
>Why wouldn’t you want the victims to have a chance to testify?
>Are you suggesting that only white people go to Catholic Church?
>I’m sure if Roof had been actively shooting at the police instead of fleeing he would’ve ended up with a “hailstorm of bullets in his ass”
>You’re not “thinking above your societal level”, you’re just not really thinking at all.

“Blizzard”  for Frost Prime


Frame coloring:
Primary: Smoke E1
Secondary: Smoke A18
Tretiary: Smoke C8
Accents: Orokin C9
Energy: Orokin E13

Attachments coloring:
Primary: Smoke E1
Secondary: Smoke A18
Tertiary: Smoke C9
Accents: Orokin C9
Energy: Orokin E13

Maharliqa syandana
Eos Prime chestplate
Right RIV-Elite shoulder plate
Left RIV-Elite shoulder plate
Right RIV-Elite knee plate
Left RIV-Elite knee plate

Warframe properties:
Hailstorm skin
Zastruga helmet

Ensembled weapons:
Tigris Prime
Galantine Prime

Lockwood and Co

Please accept this piece of garbage, 

Love Angie.

“I can’t live like this anymore.” Lockwood buried his head behind his hands, the all too daunting feeling of loosing weighing down on him like a hailstorm. It’s a crushing sensation, knowing that someone you love has betrayed you over and over again. To make this better, she doesn’t seem to hear a word he says. There’s the shuffling of feet scrapping against wood. He doesn’t want to open his eyes. He knows what he’ll see, so why make the pain worse? Yet he does it anyway, the harsh sunlight stabbing at his eyes the moment he opens them. He only see’s her back as she flees the room and some part of him is thankful for that. He didn’t want to see her face as she left him, otherwise he’d be begging for her to never leave. Again.

He raises his eyes at the wafting smell of fresh tea and the tinkering clatter of tea cups. She stands there, unapologetic for the pain she’s caused him and walks like her world hasn’t fallen apart before her. Then again, love never breaks evenly. A tea cup is placed before him. Wet stands of hair fall into her eyes when she tilts her head. He hates it when she does that. Suddenly the room feels too small. George limps into the room, dark bags beneath his eyes but he takes one look at Lockwood, “What happened to you? You look like a bloody Raw Bones.”

Lockwood musters his best glare but the pain is too much. It feels like a hand around his heart and lungs, every breath agony. Regardless of whats happening, George grabs a slice of cake from the tea tray as well as tea. He sighs, wiping furiously at his eyes to prevent the tears, “Lucy has betrayed us all.”

“Why can’t I ever enjoy cake anymore?!”

Lucy bangs her head against the table, “You lost fair and square, Lockwood.”


“Oh my god Lockwood, its just Go Fish!”


Vik, Iceland (by Daniel Bosma)

I really like how we as a community have switched the meaning of “hoe” from something derogatory and sexist to something positive and empowering. Instead of shaming other girls for having sex we’re like…satisfy your sexual needs! Suck 800s dicks if u want girl! And I am so glad we have reached that point

soldier boy, tall and proud,
with a heart of gold and a soul so loud-
they made you their mascot, had you play the crowd,
their bastion of freedom and justice avowed.

soldier boy, heart split in two,
to those who have fallen, then those who found you-
did you find a new home? did you make it anew?
did you learn to let go of the world you once knew?

soldier boy, soul shaken and torn,
by a man the world has, since birth, given scorn-
did you think this was worth it? did you heed what he’d warned?
if his heart caved under your shield, would you mourn?

—  soldier boy, brave and true (but brutal as hailstorms to those against you) || jG