the brown belt

8

The Science Has Spoken: Pluto Will Never Be A Planet Again

“What’s perhaps most remarkable is that we can make a simple, mathematical relationship between a world’s mass and its orbital distance that can be scaled and applied to any star. If you’re above these lines, you’re a planet; if you’re below it, you’re not. Note that even the most massive dwarf planets would have to be closer to the Sun than Mercury is to reach planetary status. Note by how fantastically much each of our eight planets meets these criteria… and by how much all others miss it. And note that if you replaced the Earth with the Moon, it would barely make it as a planet.”

It was a harsh lesson in astronomy for all of us in 2006, when the International Astronomical Union released their official definition of a planet. While the innermost eight planets made the cut, Pluto did not. But given the discovery of large numbers of worlds in the Kuiper belt and beyond our Solar System, it became clear that we needed something even more than what the IAU gave us. We needed a way to look at any orbiting worlds around any star and determine whether they met a set of objective criteria for reaching planetary status. Recently, Alan Stern spoke up and introduced a geophysical definition of a planet, which would admit more than 100 members in our Solar System alone. But how does this stand up to what astronomers need to know?

As it turns out, not very well. But the IAU definition needs improving, too, and modern science is more than up to the challenge. See who does and doesn’t make the cut into true planetary status, and whether Planet Nine – if real – will make it, too!

Colt-Browning M1895/14 machine gun

Designed by John M. Browning c.1889-95 and made by Colt Manufacturing Co. c.WW1.
.30-06 caliber, belt-fed, lever-actuated gas-operated automatic fire, air-cooled finned barrel.

An early machine gun design, and a sexy one at that. The Colt-Browning “potato digger” was the first reliable gas-operated rapid-fire gun to see military service, starting in the Spanish-American war.
This make the US Navy the earliest example of armed forces not seeing a problem with gas operated machine guns compared to recoil operated ones, a demographic also known as “not the German army until the 50′s”.

All Our Secrets Laid Bare (Part One)

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Prompt: The reader’s nosy (and quite rude) relatives are coming over for an unexpected family dinner. Long story short, they expect the reader to have a boyfriend, which the reader most definitely does not have. Luckily, they do have a best friend by the name of Peter Parker. One small favor wouldn’t be too much to ask, right?

Warnings: Some angst towards the end.

Word Count: 3,524

A/N: The reader doesn’t know Peter is Spider-Man in this imagine.
Also, I’m sorry if there are any grammatical errors. My usual beta reader wasn’t available and I really wanted to get this imagine posted.
Enjoy!

Part Two / Part Three

Originally posted by hardyness

“You’re my boyfriend now.”

“I-I’m sorry, what?” Peter stammered back through the phone.

This was not how you planned this day to go.

“It’s a long story. Nosy relatives coming over for dinner, may have lied and said I had a boyfriend just to get them to shut up, don’t actually have a boyfriend, typical family stuff, you know?” you tried to explain.

There was a slight pause as Peter digested all of the information you just threw at him.

“Okay, so basically, you broke under pressure and lied about have a boyfriend, and now you need me to be your boyfriend to protect you from your nosy relatives?” repeated Peter.

You rolled your eyes, perfectly aware that Peter couldn’t see them through the phone call, but positive that he felt the frustration anyway, “I didn’t break under pressure, I just… improvised.”

“Oh yeah, totally,” said Peter, voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “So do you need me to be your boyfriend or not?”

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cara mia!

mon cher!

the beginning of halloween october always brings back the addams family feels, and specifically, the weird childhood OTP of wednesday addams and joel glicker. they burned down a summer camp together. i doodled them a bit last year, but i had to again! wednesday is especially fun to draw.

Steve had been really looking forward to getting in some practice before his big tennis match on Sunday.

He’d agreed to meet his boss and a few of his friends at the court after work to practice his serve. They’d offered him the chance to go to the gym with them first, but Steve lied and said he’d nip home to get his stuff and change. The real reason is he didn’t want his boss to see him naked, so he decided to change at the side of the court!

Steve had had his tank top on under his shirt and he’d worn his jock under his suit pants as he knew there weren’t any changing rooms at the tennis courts. All he had to do was kick off his dress shoes, pull down his suit pants and pull on his shorts and his trainers.

After checking no one was around, he bent over, his firm bubble butt pushing against the seams of his tight navy suit pants, and unlaced his dress shoes. He kicked them off and unbuckled his brown leather belt.

Steve made sure he had his shorts nearby and ready to pull on quickly. Although, he thought, I’ll slip my trainers on first. I don’t want anyone to know I changed here.

Steve knelt down, his belt swinging open and slipped on his trainers and tied them up.

With his trainers done up, Steve heard the rumble of an engine and the slam of a car door. He quickly undid his flies and the button on his pants, pushing the material to his ankles.

His jock clad bubble butt was bare to the world and Steve was suddenly very conscious of how much he was exposing himself. As he bent over, his cheeks fully presented, he realised how stupid he’d been putting on his trainers first. His suit pants were tangled around his ankles and his trainers.

Hearing the sound of his boss and friends laughing and joking as they approached, Steve started to panic. He stumbled slightly as he managed to free one trainer clad foot from his pants, but the other was caught. He gripped his shorts in his hands as he tried to use his free foot to untangle the other.

“What the hell are you doing, Steve?” His boss’ deep bass voice rumbled behind him.

Steve jumped and dropped his shorts, before stumbling forward, his pants flicking off his ankle to the side of the court. Steve came to a stop on the court, his back to his boss and another 4 guys!

“Boss, I can explain!”

“You better have a good reason for this fat ass!”

Guy What Takes His Time*

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
Featuring: Natasha, Wanda, Sharon (mentioned) and Sam.
Rating: Mature
Summary: Wanda, Natasha and Sam think Steve has feelings for Reader, but she tells them otherwise while actually feeling the same way for the super soldier. One evening,  they all make a plan to make both of them confess the truth.
Word Count: 2.2k
Genre: Fluff/NSFW-ish
Warnings: build-up, suggestive themes, and innuendos, mentions of alcohol, sexual tension, a little bit of roleplay, flirting, Captain kink (?) and Steve being a cute flustered bastard.
Author's Note: It’s a rewrite of the flirty scene between Natasha and Bruce in Avengers: Age of Ultron (you can expect some references, though). I thought it could be fun to switch sides with Steve and see how it goes. It’s also inspired by Guy What Takes His Time covered by Christina Aguilera in Burlesque.

  New Avengers Facility, Upstate New  York

“You did a great job, Y/N,” Steve announced in his deep voice as he passed the hallway with you, Natasha, and Wanda. “Ladies.” He stopped in his tracks, standing with this impressive physique, almost towering in front of you as his hands held the brown belt of his- oh, so sexy uniform.

“Thank you, Captain.” You smiled and he nodded slowly as if questioning whether he would stay to have a chat with you or not. He smiled gently and proceeded to take the stairs towards his personal quarters where he’d finally take a well-deserved shower after a hard, but successful mission with you and Sam.

Of course, he would’ve loved to linger awhile and see your smile just a little longer. He enjoyed spending time with you and the feeling was mutual. Maybe that after all these days spent with him, these missions where you saved each other, being partners and all this harmless flirting, there was something between you. Your chemistry was obvious to everyone after all.

“Have you seen the way he looks at you?” Wanda nudged your side and you winced, narrowing your eyes. “Don’t be silly, Steve likes you a lot.”

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Pinkberry HCs

• Brooke is super super tech savvy. She was bored one preteen summer and checked out a book about coding at the library and picked up on it super fast and now she can hack into most basic-to-moderate mainframes/technology (the only person who knows abt it is chloe bc she’s seen all brooke’s computer monitors set up in her room) 

• growing up, Chloe’s mom was big on having her know how to defend herself and enrolled her in karate classes. She took classes until she was 15 and got her brown belt & now takes kickboxing 

• whenever they have sleepovers at Chloe’s house they sleep in her bed together because it’s a queen size and she doesn’t see the point in having one of them sleep on the floor. They tried to squeeze into Brooke’s twin a few times but gave up bc its just too uncomfortable

• slight continuation: whenever she sleeps at Brooke’s house, Chloe insists that she sleeps on the floor too because she doesn’t feel it’s fair to have one on the floor and one on the bed

• they made a pact that Chloe’ll pay for gas if Brooke pays for their tri-weekly yogurt  dates  sessions

• Brooke definitely listens to Taylor swift but like. Her older albums. Conversely, Chloe only listens to her more recent ones

• Chloe has a tendency to drift off into daydreams and Brooke finds it annoying sometimes because she’s more grounded in reality and can’t relate™

• Chloe writes exclusively in glitter gel pens. You know the ones

• Chloe takes French classes while Brooke takes Spanish and they often do each other’s homework with hilarious results

• when Brooke was younger she tried to write poetry and one day she digs up an old notebook to laugh at with Chloe but it turns out she finds it really interesting. Chloe winds up writing her own slam poetry and performs during poem night at the coffee store on the corner (she’s working up the courage to ask Brooke to come but most of them are about her so)

• Brooke loves astronomy. She’s had a telescope since she was 9 and can see the Big Dipper from her front porch & stargazing with chloe is her dream date

• best of all: they are Happy and Girlfriends in Love amen

anonymous asked:

have you watch the new promo?

Yep!

Featuring:

“What makes me me is Supergirl”:

a.k.a. the statement that will be disproved within the first 5 episodes (or maybe even the just within first episode) of the season.

More attractive than strictly necessary black blouse/maroon pants/brown belt combo:

My new favorite shirt rip:

it’s illegal to do the shirt rip when you’re already sporting a thoroughly attractive Look™

More slip ‘n slide fun:

weeee!

A gay icon standing in front of a gay icon’s icon of a gay icon:

High speed staring contest: 

Only the best can handle the intense winds in their eyes in this, the final round of the national staring tournament. Who will win the match, and thus, win National City?

(Side note: Award for most improved green screen work, guys. Congrats.)

Alex shooting the ocean and causing an earthquake:

That bitch should never have crossed her.

A beautifully haired Supergirl, .2 seconds before likely making some kind of mistake:

And an Edgie™ logo:

That looks kinda cool tbh, for a little while. 

For now, I’m going to enjoy the rare occurrence of seeing Kara in just slightly darker than normal clothing.

We’ll return to our regularly programmed sunshine shortly.

Dick Grayson: Martial Arts

So I’m finally getting around to writing this. The first question every single one of you should be asking is what makes me– a random person on the internet– qualified to talk about a fictional character’s expert martial arts abilities. Well, I am

>> A black belt in Northern Eagle Claw Kung Fu
>> A brown belt (2nd kyu /nikyu) in Aikido

I’ve also taken some Southern Shaolin Kung Fu, Taekwondo, and Karate. 

The main styles I’m qualified to talk about are Eagle Claw Kung Fu and Aikido, which mainly comes from my years of practice. I’m not an instructor in any of these disciplines, and I’m only writing this for fun. This post might be helpful to people who role play Dick Grayson or to just develop headcanons in general. Hey, you might just be straight up interested in how this guy fights.

The fact is, comic books aren’t the best portrayal of how martial artists fight. Comic books are very flashy. They like splash pages, dramatic kicks and punches, and they like to have superheroes jump to the ground with cement-shattering landings that would devastate their knee joints. The irony here is that Dick’s core martial art style is canonically Aikido, and Aikido has a grand total of zero kicks. The only punches that this style uses are your standard initial strikes in order to practice the forms. Otherwise, this style is purely defensive. The philosophy of Aikido is basically to disarm your opponent with as little damage to them as possible. In Kung Fu, I was taught how to break people’s arms, rip out the trachea, and damage the ear drums (yay, fun), but in Aikido the idea is that you don’t want to physically harm your opponent more than necessary. Dick knows various martial art styles, so clearly he knows how to execute lethal and flawless kicks and punches too, but for now, let’s focus on Aikido since it’s his core style.

This is actually an awesome style for Dick for many reasons. Aikido is a martial art focused on using your opponent’s energy against them, and it’s a purely defensive style (there are no offensive maneuvers in this style besides your standard initial strike to practice movements). Dick started crime fighting when he was a kid. He couldn’t rely on physical strength to survive, and after growing up to be an adult, he’s still only about 175 pounds which means a majority of the big hitters in DCU can easily physically overpower him. I’m 115 pounds, and I can tell you that I drop guys who are twice my size all the time in Aikido. It doesn’t take much physical effort because this style relies on innate human weaknesses. The idea of Aikido is to learn a system of defensive maneuvers that can be applied to any attack that comes your way.

Someone punching you? No problem. They grabbed both your wrists? Please. Shirt collar? Ha, whatever. Grabbed from behind? Come on. Knife stab? Zzz. Samurai sword? – You mean the one that’s now in my hands?

This is a flexible martial art style, and it works without tiring you. When I took Kung fu, I needed a water break after twenty minutes because the workout was so intense. In Aikido I can go two and a half hours straight and not break a sweat. You rarely have to move more than a few feet to complete a technique, and it’s usually to move into your opponent’s blind spot in order to execute a technique that puts them on the floor. Don’t get me wrong, you can practice Aikido fast and hard and tire yourself out with a good workout– but you don’t have to. If you’re wise about your movements, you can save a lot of energy.

If Dick is as much of an expert in Aikido as comics say, then you can’t put your hand near this guy without ending up on your back in 0.2 seconds flat. You’ll be staring at the ceiling wondering what the hell just happened (been there, done that, trust me).

Dick Grayson can put anyone on the floor in a matter of seconds without throwing a single punch or kick. He basically just needs to stand there and bam, they’re down. So by this point you’re probably wondering how this style works as effectively as it does.

It works by blending your energy into your opponent’s and then using it against them. If someone punches Dick, he can side-step their arm, grab their wrist to yank them forward (i.e. off-balance them), and then twist the wrist back so that his opponent has no choice but to follow wherever he guides them– which in this case will be backwards (lifting their elbow over their shoulder to force them to land on their back).

This entire time, Dick barely has to move to execute it other than the initial side-step. It’s a fluid, eloquent and sophisticated style. The movements you do are so small (a simple twist of the wrist) that anyone watching this fight might go, “what the fuck just happened?”

Now, I am exaggerating a bit, but there is a fundamental truth here. The key is that we’re twisting someone’s wrist in a direction that it’s not supposed to go, forcing the human body to either follow the movement or break the joint. 10/10 times the body will involuntarily follow the movement.

For any of you who want a physical example of how this works in order to better understand it, I’ll try to offer a step-by-step example here. (Explaining things over the Internet is hard, I offer no guarantees.)

  1. Hold your right hand in front of your face with the palm facing you.
  2. Take your left hand and hold it behind your right hand.
  3. Wrap the fingers of your left hand around the thumb joint of your right hand (this is the meaty part of your palm below your thumb).
  4. Make sure the thumb of your left hand is pressing between the knuckles of the pinkie and ring finger of your right hand (or at least keep it in that general area, no worries).
  5. Now press the entire thing down and to the side (there should only be one natural direction to go). If you extend your arm down, you’ll feel it even more. You can also bend your arm toward (and over) your shoulder to further understand the type of control someone would have over you in this position.

(If any of you had trouble following that, I don’t blame you. I still can’t figure out online origami instructions.) 

If you managed this successfully, then you have an idea of why you don’t want someone holding your arm like this. If they start walking you in one direction, you’re going to follow them because it’s an unnatural position.

So that’s one basic wrist movement, and there are dozens of others. Like I said, this is a very flexible style. You can punch Dick Grayson and he can respond over a dozen different ways. One might put you on your back, he could straight up throw you, he can flip you, he can put you on your stomach with your arms behind your back in a painful lock, he can spin you in a fast circle and drop you.

We can see Dick and Tim doing something similar in New Teen Titans Vol 2 #60.

Pretty cool, right? When I spar with people, I tell them to grab me as hard as they can so I can practice with a genuine threat. The guy I was last sparring with was taller than me, weighed more, and was stronger. He was gripping both my wrists tightly (and I have tiny ass wrists), and that didn’t stop me from performing this move because Aikido doesn’t rely on physical strength. Once you move a limb a way it’s not supposed to go, it doesn’t really matter how strong you are; you’re under the control of whoever’s controlling that limb. 

So hopefully that helps explain this style a bit more. It’s my favorite martial art so far, and I recommend it to anyone, especially women. 

As for Dick’s other martial art styles, he knows Jeet-Kune-Do (created by Bruce Lee; it’s a direct style of combat considered ideal for street fighting), Capoeira (an acrobatic style that focuses on movement and evasion) and Eskrima (where Dick’s dual wielding sticks obviously come into play). He’s also been said to practice Muay Thai, Judo, Savate, Karate, Sambo, Ninjitsu, Wing Chun and Shaolin Kung Fu.

Robin: Year One #3

“So what are you?”

The question which plagued my childhood in suburban Kansas; the ponderance of which led me towards years of agonizing identity searching; the answer to which I still hesitate to deliver.

“So what are you?”

It is an innocent question; one I know I am not alone in hearing the echoes of. But what do I say? “I’m mixed” is the short answer, but it always leads to the question of “With what” so do I say “My mom is white and my dad is brown” but brown isn’t usually specific enough so do I say “my mom is white and my dad’s Pakistani” but that doesn’t flow right because white is a race and Pakistani is a nationality so do I say “my mom’s American and my dad’s Pakistani” but that isn’t true because my dad was born in Canada and he’s lived here his whole life and American sure as hell doesn’t mean white I mean my dad IS American so do I say “My mom’s a white American and my Dad’s Pakistani American” but that just sounds like I’m trying too hard so that’s out of the question and so do I just drop it and leave it at “none of your business” but that’s rude and it’s really such a simple question so what in the hell do I freaking say?

“So what are you?”

It’s a good question, really… why don’t you tell me? I am the alienation that I feel when my mom’s family talks about how dangerous those Muslim immigrants are over dinner and I am the strange sinking feeling in my stomach which occurs when my cousins tell me that whatever I’ve just done is haraam. I am the frustration which clouds me when people around me doubt that I am what the hell I say I am. I am the product of the millisecond long stares of confusion people give me when I tell them the pale as china blonde lady I’m with is my mother and the looks of disgust I get when I, the young, doll eyed light skinned girl, go out to dinner late at night with a big burly middle aged brown man, aka my father. I am the three and a half years it took me to decide what to call the pigmentation of my skin.

I am the sadness which clouds me when one of my Aunties asserts how lucky I am to be so fair skinned. I am the anger I feel each and every time I think about the people who called my full and plump Desi lips fat as a kid and now use copious amounts of lip liner to accentuate their tiny mouths on Snapchat. I am the hours of hoping and praying during and after shootings that it wasn’t a Muslim. I am the incredible lengths I go to, the precise and complex knowledge I feel I must have of my roots in order to truly claim my heritage. I am neither and I am both and I hate it.

“So what are you?”

I can’t stand here and tell you that it is all bad. That would be I lie, for I am also the cool, smooth feeling of the bronze crucifix which sits on one side of my bedroom wall and the sentiment of the words “Allah most merciful” written in beautiful Arabic script on the other. I am my large French hazel eyes and my thick and wavy South Asian hair, my favorite of my features.

I am the pride I feel as I trace my thumb over the intricate embroidery on one of my anarkalis and the anticipation I feel for Christmas as I help line my grandmother’s fireplace with garland. I am the rhythmic clanking of my bangles as I dance to bhangra music at a cousin’s wedding and the clicking of tongues by a sizzling grill as my grandpa flips our burgers during a Sunday night barbeque. I am the flavorful and savory taste of pulao my father makes and the creamy texture of mashed potatoes on Thanksgiving. I am the Maybelline mascara I coat my eyelashes with and the kajal I used to line the edges of my eyes. I am the flavorant meeting of two cultures melting in an incredible country in which such a thing is even possible.

“So what are you?”

God, but what am I thinking? I’m Jackie. I am the impending messiness that is my bedroom. I am my inability to fall the hell asleep before eleven o’clock at night. I am my love for all things fashion and glamour. I am my obnoxiously large collection of makeup. I am my hideous shedding of tears each and every time Spock dies in the Wrath of Khan.

I am my intense love for horror movies and my struggle to move in the dark for two days after watching them. I am my passion for music and Michael J. Fox and Kanye West and my unrequited love for Zayn Malik. I am my collection of records and of 32 scarves which I never wear, my brown riding boots, my belting of Christmas carols in the middle of July, my irrational hatred of algebra, my inability to sleep without my phone being on its charger, the Toll House cookie dough I eat straight from the bag and the four Beatles posters I have hanging in my room.

I am the scent of Aussie conditioner and my clumsy, spacy nature; my obsession with the Kennedys, my adamant love for Diet Dr Pepper, losing myself in my daydreams, my extreme extroversion and procrastination of literally everything, my weakness for Reese’s peanut butter cups, my A to Z knowledge about Mick Jagger, my ever changing mind. I am my dreams and I am my fears and and I am my tenacity and I am my mistakes and my courage and my insecurities and my abilities and my hope … I am so much and yet I am so little. I am me. I am unapologetically and beautifully me.

“So what are you?”

I am Jacqueline Renee and I am what I am and no answer that I give you to this question will make what I am any different.