#drone dock

[electrozeistyking]

"She's Gone"

This bad boy was started on the third of November, and finished on the seventh. In total, there are thirty panels (all of which were drawn separately).

A good chunk of N's dialogue near the end came to me after I did some improv to figure out what he should say. I have since dubbed it "N's Failure Monologue."

[dgalevisuals]

old dock remnants

[recumbent-nomad]

Finally managed to get the drone back up whilst I was out in Liverpool today and I'm fairly happy with the shots I have of the Albert Dock and the Mersey Ferry. Let's hope for some more good weather so I can get some more flying in and get the trike out for a ride...

[describethefauna]

the stillness of a summer sunset

///////

www.describethefauna.com

[kleexfly]

CELLULAR CHARGING DOCK – GLOBAL MODEL. For sale.

[martynrandles]

Bramley Moore Dock Stadium Update Ep 63 (27.1.23)

[incorrectbatfam]

How about Bruce pranking/embarrassing/making fun of (not in a bad way) the kids as payback for their pranks/jokes?

Dick: I'm going to Wally's.

Bruce: *grunts*

Dick: *leaves*

Bruce: *makes a phone call*

Bruce: Barry, I need you and Wally to come over here for a minute.

———————

Bruce: *pats Tim's back and sticks a barcode*

Tim: What was that for?

Bruce: Just letting you know you're doing a great job, son.

[30 minutes later]

Tim: *wearing headphones*

Bruce: *walks by and scans it*

[1 hour later]

Tim: *asleep at his desk*

Bruce: *walks by and scans it*

[2 hours later]

Bruce: *walks by and scans it*

Tim: What was that beeping?

Bruce: Just my phone.

———————

Bruce: Barbara, can you help me analyze this Kryptonite sample?

Barbara: Hm... the color and texture line up with mechanically-cut Kryptonite, but something about it seems off. Where did you find it?

Bruce: The docks.

Barbara: I'm gonna need to run some tests.

Bruce: *wonders when he should tell her it's green glass*

———————

[at dinner]

Duke: *turns and talks to someone*

Bruce: *adds a scoop of mashed potatoes to Duke's plate*

Duke: *goes back to his plate*

Duke: *leaves to get a drink*

Bruce: *adds another scoop*

Duke: *comes back and keeps eating*

Duke: *drops his fork and bends down to get it*

Bruce: *adds another scoop*

Duke: Anyway, what was I saying before?

Bruce, pointing: What's that?

Duke: *looks behind him*

Bruce: *adds another scoop*

———————

Steph: Bruce, have you seen my sweater? The purple one with white flowers.

Bruce: No, sorry.

Steph: Oh, okay. No biggie.

Steph: *leaves*

Bruce: *takes the sweater to the post office*

[a couple days later]

Alfred: Miss Stephanie, there is a package for you.

Steph: Weird, I didn't order anything.

Steph: *opens it*

Steph:

———————

Cass: *lurking in the corner*

Bruce: *secretly takes a picture from above with a drone*

Bruce: *AirDrops it to her*

———————

Bruce: What do you want for the holidays?

Damian: Well, I would like another cat.

Bruce: I'll see what I can do.

[weeks later]

Damian: A bulldozer?

Bruce: Not just any bulldozer. A Cat.

———————

Jason: *parks and goes inside*

Bruce: *steals Jason's bike tires*

[princessbrunette]

thinking about dad!johnb who just looks so fucking good to you after you have your baby together.

maybe it’s the way he’s grown out his beard a little, adopting a scruffier look all around because he often didn’t have the time to get his hair cut as frequently either, stuffing a fisherman-type cap over his brunette waves. tv dinners became a little more frequent for him, and he didn’t have time to swim as often — only lift weights, so he’d naturally gotten a little thicker around the middle and chest, thighs bulging just that little extra — yet his arms thick and stronger than ever.

he’d really started to fill the ‘dad’ boots. walking around with your nearly one year old girl on his hip, his low voice mumbling conversationally as you wander ahead with a shopping cart doing the groceries, barely concentrating, just running off the soft lull of his voice in the background drone.

you liked him best when your daughter would be napping and he’d be on the couch, looking a little sleepy with his head tilted back against the cushion and his thighs spread. when he’s not at home with his girl he works long shifts at the docks — so his hands are all rough and he’s got the odd scratch and scrape which makes him all the more homely. all the more manly too, helping you tap effortlessly into your feminine as you snuggle up to him in a little sundress and cardigan— laying your body half on his.

“shes down?” he refers to your sleeping child, brows raised a little in interest. you busy yourself with nuzzling into his jaw with kisses, having been desperate to get your hands on him.

“mhm. just us…” you hum, feeling his cheeks expand into a smile.

“is that so?” he croons, still managing to be a goofball despite everything.

“missed you.” you sigh, manoeuvring just that little more onto john b’s thigh, grinding your hips down to relieve some of this ache.

“oh?” he hums, hands on your waist now. “haven’t been looking after my girl, have i?” it’s a question, but he says it more as a statement — an air of guilt to his voice that makes you shake your head.

“no, no john b you’ve been good. you’ve been so good jus— just need a little extra love t’day…” you feel yourself starting to get hazy and breathless, needing to turn it all off just for a little.

“okay sweetheart. we’ve got time.” he soothes your rushed jolted grinds against his leg, coarse hand rubbing the skin. “we can start… by getting this off.” he plucks at your dress, tilting his head with a little smile so he could look at you properly.

you look up, feeling lucky to witness that warm glint in his eye. john b could never neglect you.

[dstryvampres]

Smoke Signals

Jonathan Crane x Reader

Summary: Dr Crane is tired of you talking back.

Warnings: smut, fingering, age gap(reader is early 20s, crane is mid 40s), power imbalance, brat taming(I think??), reader is a smoker, dub con, p in v, unprotected, praise, degradation, spanking, creampie

Word count: 2.2k

The trek to Dr Crane office on the fifth floor was quick and easy, seeing as there was no one else using the elevator because it was so late at night. When you push open the door to Dr Crane’s office it creaks, alerting him immediately to your presence.

“I thought I told you to quit smoking before you come to my office,” is what Dr Crane decides on greeting you with. His face is stern, pen in hand as he writes out a statement on a student’s quiz.

“Yeah, well I was fiending all day and they don’t let you have a smoke within 15 meters of the psychology testing centre. Hard to get a smoke break in,” You quip back, hanging your tote bag over the back of a chair before sliding between it and Dr Crane’s desk to sit.

“Well, if you won’t quit all together, you could at least have the common courtesy to not reek of it near me,” He scoffs, clicking his pen and setting it down on his desk.

You toy with the fabric of your sheer black tights as Dr Crane sets aside whatever he was working on before and brings out two sheets of paper. Two rubrics, one for him, which he settles in front of him, and one for you, which he flips towards you.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Dr Crane asks, standing up from his desk and heading towards the table near the window. He clicks on the kettle, staring at it for a couple seconds before he starts to hear it bubble up before he turns to you again.

“Just any tea is fine, except ginger, I want something herbal tonight,” you reply, rummaging through your tote bag looking for a pen to use for tonight.

“So herbal tea?” Jonathan asks, shaking his head at you in the corner of your eye.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I said,” you sit up straight once again when you find your pencil case, plopping it down on Dr Crane’s darkwood desk.

You hear a sigh from the professor as he turns around to look out the window at the rain, his fingers toying around with the packaging of a tea bag. No matter if Dr Crane happens to be your boss, you can’t deny that he’s insanely attractive. Young looking face with high cheekbones, blue eyes that stare holes into your being, dark brown hair that he somehow styles perfectly without trying that hard, all packaged in suits that do him far too many favours. Sure he has a slightly bitter attitude, but you’re no better. With all the times you snap back and push his buttons he’s far too patient with you, and seems to genuinely care about your well being. Whether that care is actually genuine or is just to avoid having to find another TA, you’re not one hundred percent sure.

A click comes from the kettle, and soon enough Dr Crane sets down a steaming mug in front of you before sliding into his own chair with a mug in his hand.

“Thank you,” you say, blowing on the steaming liquid in hopes to cool it down quicker.

“Don’t burn yourself.”

Dr Crane grabs his pen before directing both of your attention to the rubric and assignment guide. He drones on about the basics, word count, percentage to dock based off of just principle things, before delving into more important specifics to the assignment. For a supposed research essay, the need to include the students own fears into the mix was a weird choice to be a necessity. There’s no need to ask about it, the conditions for the assignment have already been set in stone, the due date is in about a week.

“Everything making sense?” Dr Crane asks, looking at you, eyebrows furrowed together.

You nod in response, reaching over to grab a highlighter from Dr Crane’s collection across the table. Maybe you should bring up the weird conditions of the assignment…

“Actually, just one thing confuses me about this assignment,” You start, looking for any signs of anger from Dr Crane, knowing just how often you seem to push his buttons before continuing, “why do the students need to disclose their own fears in this assignment, it’s supposed to be a research essay on different ways the brain copes with fear.”

Dr Crane clenches his jaw, looking away from you annoyed. Acting like you were questioning the fundamentals of grammar and not some strange one off point he decided to add to this assignment. He shakes his head, taking off his glasses and laying them down on the table.

“You’re not the one running the class, are you?” Dr Crane asks, voice showing just thin his patience has become in a matter of seconds.

“Well, obviously not, but I’m just-”

You’re cut off with the screeching of Dr Crane’s chair as he stands up, walking towards the door. Fuck, is he going to leave? Is he going to ask you to leave? Are you being fired out of one of the best looking jobs on your resume? When you hear the click of the lock on the door, you’re not sure if your fate is better or worse than any of the options thought of before. Nevertheless, your body tenses up and your head starts to fog up, whatever is going to happen you don’t think it will be too pleasant.

“You know what? I’m so sick of you always thinking you know better than me,” He slowly walks over to you as he speaks, shoes clicking on the linoleum floor of his office.

“I don’t think that,” you respond, voice strained. Now he’s standing over where you’re seated, forcing you to look upwards at him. You feel so small and powerless in this moment. Maybe, it’s only now and here, in this position, that you finally remember that this man holds your entire future as a psychologist in his hands.

“I want you to remember who has more leverage here, who can get you into the best jobs in the state,” it’s like he can read your mind.

You gulp and close your eyes. You’ve spent the last year and three months of your masters degree and time as a TA under Dr Crane pushing back against him, challenging the man. You’re sure that it’s here, in his locked office that he will give you a piece of his mind before dropping you completely. Leaving you and your master’s thesis to flounder in the last half of it, beg for anyone to aid you in the specific thesis everyone knew only Crane was suitable to supervise at this university. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Please, don’t drop me and my thesis. I won’t challenge you ever again, I’ll do anything you want, please,” you beg, opening your eyes to stare at Crane’s. Hoping the eye contact would connect with some deeper part of him, but his blue eyes stared back, cold and emotionless.

“Anything?” Crane asks, quirking an eyebrow at your begging.

“Yes, anything. I’ll get on my knees and beg you, I’ll mark every assignment myself-”

“Face the table and put your hands on top of it,” Crane demands.

“What?” Your mind short circuits at his request, not expecting something like that.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to challenge me ever again?” Dr Crane sighs, crossing his arms, waiting for you to obey.

You follow his request, placing both your hands on the table, looking down at the dark oak wood. It’s cold underneath your palms, but that doesn’t help with the sweat accumulating onto your palms. Dr Crane hums behind you, seemingly happy with your compliance to his request. He kicks your feet away from the desk, making your butt stick out more.

“Now, I want you to spread your legs for me,” Dr Crane puts a hand on your ass, squeezing the flesh. Your eyebrows furrow, taking a second too long for his liking and earning a slap to the ass, you quickly move to spread your legs.

“Good girl,” Dr Crane hums, massaging the spot where he hit you previously. You whine in response, feeling a heat start to grow in your cunt.

Dr Crane smacks your ass again, a little lighter than before, almost teasing. His other hand is placed on your ass, both hands move down to your thighs, then back up to your ass, this time sliding under your skirt and flipping it up. Your pink panties are visible through the sheer black tights causing Dr Crane to sigh out.

“You feel how hard I am, slut?” Dr Crane asks, you hear the smirk in his voice as he presses his hard-on into your ass. You moan, feeling the weight of it press into your wet cunt and soiled panties.

Quickly Dr Crane rips open the thin fabric of your tights, allowing for direct access to your panties and cunt. He feels your wet heat through your panties, quickly moving them to the side to expose your cunt. You moan as the cold air of his office hits your cunt.

“You’re so wet. Do you let all your professors fuck you? Or am I a sort of desprate case?” Dr Crane cooes, ghosting his fingers over your exposed cunt.

He runs his fingers up and down your cunt, collecting your wetness over them before pushing them inside of you. The intrusion is so unexpected it makes you gasp, pull away from it briefly. He fucks you with his fingers shallowly, at a bored pace. You push back onto his fingers, begging for more. Dr Crane removes his finger from your cunt, and you whine in response.

“Fuck, you’re a desperate whore huh?” Dr Crane laughs, giving your ass another harsh slap.

Behind you Dr Crane unzips his pants, freeing his cock. He lines it up with your hole and just stays there. No matter how much you try to push back and whine for him to put it in he isn’t moving.

“You’ve been such a bitch, I don’t think you deserve my cock. Why don’t you beg for it?” you can hear the cocky look on Dr Crane’s face just from his voice. Though it doesn’t seem to matter much as you open your mouth to beg.

“Please Dr Crane, I’ll be such a good girl. You can use me anytime and I’ll never be a bitch again, as long as I have your cock, please doctor please,” you plead, wiggling your hips.

“Good girl.”

Dr Crane pushes inside of you. His cock is average length, but stretches you out in a way no other man ever has. It makes your head spin as he spears you on his cock.

“Fuck, I didn’t expect a whore like you to be so tight,” Dr Crane pants out, putting both of his hands on your waist.

He pulls out of you slowly, before slamming back into your cunt. Setting a brutal pace as soon as he slams back into you a second time. Only faltering when he smacks your ass. You yelp out each time, before pushing back onto his cock. Dr Crane continually stretched you out and hit the most sensitive spots inside of you. Your legs start to shake half way through, the only thing stopping you from crumbling being Dr Crane’s cock and hands. He pushes you back on him each time, almost demanding you take him in further.

“You fuck me so good doctor,” you moan out, “Can I cum doctor?”

“Yeah, cum all over my cock dumb slut,” Dr Crane says, speeding up the pace.

One of his hands reaches down from your hips to your clit, rubbing fast and hard on it. A touch so hard and borderline painful on the sensitive bundle of nerves tips you over the edge in mere seconds. Your knees buckle. Stars flood your vision. Your boss fucking you through the whole thing.

You start to weep from overstimulation, tears welling in your eyes when you come back from your high. Dr Crane is still fucking you in the same brutal pace.

“Sluts like you don’t get breaks until I come too,” Dr Crane snarls out at you and your weeping, earning another sharp smack to your ass.

The tears spill out over your eyes as you cum again all over his cock. Your walls clenching and seizing around Dr Crane so hard his cock becomes painful as it pumps in and out of you.

He speeds up and his pace starts to become more aggressive, until Dr Crane stills inside of you. His cum rushes into your cunt, holding himself inside you after both of you have finally come down from your high. Once Dr Crane pulls out of you, you feel as his cum comes spilling out of your cunt.

“I’ll give you your share of the papers to mark next monday,” Dr Crane says, tucking his cock away and zipping up his pants. “I expect to not hear any confusion about the grading from you, I feel like I explained myself pretty well.

taglist: @paradiseprincesss @xanaxiii @luluartpop

[moiderahart]

About the Warships in Armored Core 6

I'm basically repeating what I said on cohost here because I actually kind of love the designs of the PCA's ships in Armored Core 6.

Now much ink has been spilled about how they're "too weak" and "I wish they were harder :(" which is more just people saying they wish they had more setpiece levels like the STRIDER which, to be honest, same; I'd love that. But the warships are actually gigantic. They're like 300 meters long; comparable to a container ship or a carrier than a warship. But more importantly they have an exposed bridge and pretty rudimentary defenses uptop. The bulk of their defenses are all localized on the bottom. Lasers designed to scour the earth. A bay to deploy LCs and MTs, and a full wing of drones to keep you down. Some units even have railguns on their underside, some have missiles uptop to try and counter the weaknesses of the deck side of these warships, which to be fair, probably would have worked if the Karman Line level didn't give you infinite energy.

Arquebus doesn't really know how to handle these warships. Because they keep on throwing them at you as though they're traditional air-to-air war machines.

When you attack the PCA, they're either flying over the majority of your forces or their ships are outright docked.

Basically what I'm saying is these ships aren't designed for a fair fight. They fold like paper when they're faced with something that gets on the deck.

Because they're subjugation machines.

They are designed to bully a population into submission.

The PCA aren't a normal military force, they're fucking space cops.

[revelboo]

Your most recent installation of Bad Idea has me screaming. Love all your portrayals of the characters, esp cryptid slenderbot.

Thank you! I have a lot of fun writing these

Bad Idea Pt 12

TFP Soundwave x Reader

• That little hitching noise you make as he adjust his tendril about you sinks into him. Almost scandalous with the desire to see if he can coax that sound from you again. Knowing he should stop before things get too out of hand, but tempted to keep going even knowing this isn’t meant for him. That he doesn’t deserve to ask for this when you give him so much already. Graspers still holding those small wrists, the skin contact strengthens that connection to you, letting you spill into him processor until he’s almost drowning in you, your thoughts and emotions. Your need sparking through him until he needs more.

• Shuddering against his hold, you bite into the inside of your cheek. He can’t possibly know what he’s doing to you, and you know you need to stop him before you come apart to that lovely friction and embarrass both of you. But you want to pretend it’s intentional, that he does know. Almost whimpering as his head tips closer and his other tendril coils about you, lifting you off your feet. Seeing your own flushed face in his visor as one of the other tendril’s graspers brushes your bottom lip. “Soundwave,” you protest, body trembling as he watches you. Not understanding why you’re trembling, but then he’s so tactile that of course he’s going to keep doing it out of curiosity. Armor panels lifting slightly when you rock yourself against the coil of his tendril when it slides against you. Knowing you’re going to be absolutely mortified later about grinding against him like a teenager in the backseat of a car, but unable to care right then.

• Stroking over him, the way you say his name in that breathy whisper of need curls about his spark. Fascinated with those little noises and knowing they’re because of him. For him. Frame bowing over you, servos splayed on the surface he’s holding you suspended over. Wants to see you come apart for him, hear his name on your lips, a plea or a curse, he doesn’t care. Just wants this. A hand sliding over his chassis, long servos stroking over himself, reaching to free his spike as you arch in his grip with a ragged gasp. The connection flaring as more of your thoughts seep into him. Feeding his own need. “Soundwave.” That harsh, snarling recording of Megatron’s voice brings his head snapping up. Finding Lazerbeak staring at him in open disapproval. Reminding him of his duties. Venting roughly, he reluctantly eases you down and retreats. Struggling to get himself back in control.

• You’re going to kill that stupid turkey. Butt hitting the cold, metal surface as Soundwave draws back, his head tips up toward Lazerbeak, and you almost want to cry, because you’d been so close. He couldn’t have just left you both alone a little bit longer? No, because he hates you. Running a shaky hand over your face as you try to calm your racing heart feeling the embarrassment now that the high is out of reach. Shooting you a look that you’re almost certain is smug, the drone docks against Soundwave and he reaches out a servo to touch your cheek. And just leaves you there more frustrated than you’ve ever been in your entire life as you watch him go out the door and want to call after him. Beg him to come back and finish what he started.

• Putting some distance between himself and temptation, he can feel Lazerbeak’s annoyed disapproval spilling into his processor. Can still feel the visceral ache of your need and desire humming through him even as he loses the feel of your mind tangled in his with distance until you’re just a warm, frustrated buzz in the back of his processor. He’d been so close to giving in, mass shifting and taking what he needs, wanting to lose himself in the feel of another’s body and mind. To forget the past just for a short time and only feel. And he hates himself for that, because Lazerbeak is a constant reminder of all of his failures, the ones he hadn’t been able to save. Knows happiness isn’t meant for him no matter how much he wants it. That you’re not meant for him.

Previous

Next

[kropotkindersurprise]

July 16, 2024 - Ansar Allah attacked the oil tanker Chios Leon with a USV (drone boat) in the Red Sea, because the company that operates and owns the ship docked ships in Israel, ignoring Yemen's anti-genocide blockade. Noone was reported injured.

A report from the US and UK naval authorities who claim to be providing security in the area described this incident as "A Houthi drone which crashed into the [...] side causing some damage and light smoke". [video]

[injuries-in-dust]

Captain’s log, number 197.

Well, it finally happened. They warned me it would when I took humans aboard, but I didn’t believe them.

The humans have threatened mutiny over an object they have pack-bonded with.

A few cycles ago, one of the humans placed ... decorative items ... what are they called? “googling eyes?” upon one of the maintanence drones. While against procedure, this seemed to be amusing to the humans and I let them have this bit of enrichment to their environment.

Last cycle another human, or perhaps the same one, I haven’t been able to get a clear answer on who did it, decided to expand upon this decoration with the addition of black bonding tape, cut into shapes the humans find very amusing.

See attached picture for clarity:

In another cycle we will be docking at space-station 114-Hartnell for our annual maintanence and reguation-compliance inspection. I need not say how we must be reguation compliant in order to maintain our trade lisence with the alliance.

This would, of course, include that all maintanence drones are kept up to code. So I ordered the humans to remove the decorations.

... I ...

...I have no words ...

Their reaction.

They named him.

It! I meant to say, they named it.

They stated, and I quote, “You will not touch one hair of Robert Floor-Buffington the third, captain, or there’ll be a problem!” 

They’ve made up stories! Robert Floor-Buffington, he’s a humble, but hard working space bot, who just wants to do right for his a robot wife, and robot children!

It’s a maintanence drone! Identical to the hundred other maintanence drones we have on board.

But the humans they’re insane!

They just will not be moved on this issue.

... Maybe I can pursuade them to just ensure this Robert Floor-Buffington is kept out of the inspectors way. We have a hundred identical models, surely they won’t notice that one is missing?

***Log paused for incoming message***

Captains log addendum.

Perhaps the inspectors will not notice four maintanence drones are missing.

The humans have decided to decorate three other drones and have taken to referring to them as the “wife and two children of Robert-Floor Buffington the third.”

At this time, there is a heated debate occuring in storage bay three over what the names of this robot family will be.

...

...

...

Additional. I have over two-hundred days of shore-leave accrued. I think I’ll be making good use of that in the near future.

[princeofrubber]

Waking up in the morning. Although the term 'waking up' isn't correct for a rubber drone. The object formally known as Carl turns on, slowly rising its rubber coated bed. Everything in this objects life is always covered in a layer of shiny black rubber. It's intense and invasive programming does not it allow it to use an object unless it is covered in the shiny material.

Its body creaks as it sits up in its rubber bed, still wearing its protective transparent casing. This ensures that its rubber skin-layer is protected and safe from any pollution or germs circulating in the air.

Before the airlock on its sleeping chamber is unlocked, the object takes its gas mask, slipping it over the thick rubber-coated head. A long phallic rubber shaft docks with its already coated and toothless mouth.

A freakish, perverted and totally-controlled object. Nothing more. Living in total bliss as its mind is blasted with constant hypnosis.

- - -

More at princeofrubber.com

[miss-anthropyxx]

Wide angle shot of Boblo Dock boat terminal in Detroit, Michigan. Abandoned for 20 years and covered in graffiti, it's currently being torn down.

By u/JCPhotography_mi [not me], whom you can message to purchase prints. Shot with a Mavic Mini 3 Pro drone, 12 image stitch, F1.7, 1/250 sec.