2012 faves

anonymous asked:

Hey buddy who's your fav turt?

pretty obvious

SYRIA. Aleppo governorate. Aleppo. October 3, 2012. A Syrian man cries while holding the body of his son near Dar El Shifa hospital. The boy was killed by Syrian army shelling.

This picture was part of a larger portfolio of images from Syria by AP photographers that won the 2013 Pulitzer Prize.

Photograph: Manu Brabo/AP


anonymous asked:

Ooo, I love this au dude. Could you do a Donnie one where he accidently gets adopted by an alien race, and they are like super supportive to him. And like. If he ever needs anything he has an entire planet backing him.

“And should you ever need us, we will be but a summons away,” Glisan finished, their voice echoing elegantly in Donnie’s mind.

“Uh, thanks?” Donnie managed, mostly distracted by the weight of the robes they’d dressed him in. “I really appreciate your generous, uh, offer. I’ll call you up if we ever hit legal trouble in your sector. Again.”

Glisan bowed, their white carapace creaking as they did. Donnie bowed awkwardly, trying to copy the grace of the white shelled being before him. And mostly failing.

“Fare thee well, Donatello,” Glisan nearly sang, their four sets of hands sweeping together in an eight handed clasp. They stepped forwards in a drawn out movement, and with their lipless, featureless face, pressed something like a kiss to Donnie’s forehead.

Donnie blinked, feeling warmth bloom from the place the cool touch had been. “Um. Fare thee well, Glisan?”

Glisan tittered like chimes in his head, and stood back up to their full height; towering over Donnie once more. With a series of sweeping hand gestures, they dematerialized from Donnie’s ship bridge. Likely returning to the achingly beautiful planet below.

Donnie touched his forehead, feeling the still warm scales there.

“Wow,” Raph spoke up suddenly; making Donnie turn to see his and everyone else’s befuddled/bemused expressions. “That was probably the weirdest thing all week.”

Donnie adjusted the heavy white cloak/robe thing Glisan and their followers had gifted him, during his short stay on their desert planet, and sighed. “You’re telling me. I’m not even sure if we have anything that beats being adopted by an entire alien race.”

“I’m sure we’ll find something,” Leo said in a tired voice, murmurs and laughter in agreement following his statement.

“Let’s not and say we did,” Donnie suggested, because one week of being on a too bright, too white, too glorious planet was enough of an adventure for him for the next while at least.

Highlights of my ‘Splinter and his many terrible kids’ chat with @lulusoblue

“So what’s it like then? The fags and the booze.” “Well, to be honest, after years of smoking and drinking, you do sometimes look at yourself and think…you know, just sometimes, in between the first cigarette with coffee in the morning to that four hundredth glass of cornershop piss at 3am, you do sometimes look at yourself and think… “this is fantastic. I’m in heaven.”“