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softly-mossy · 3 years

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yall ask for uhhhhh bt adopting a roomba. ripley and fs make an appearance as well

[ao3 link]

The movement is slow and slight, but detectable.

In the dimly-lit hangar, he locks onto it with a sharp cyan optic. As he focuses, he takes in its appearance: small, circular, flat. It seems to be moving of its own volition.

BT’s curiosity piques.

He settles on his haunches to continue watching.

The little drone pays him no mind, still studiously working on its task of, what he guesses, cleaning. Scuttling alone, he can faintly detect the hum of the drone’s small motor.

Eventually, it bumps into one of the ammo crates stacked outside of the Titan docks with a minute, dampened ‘thunk’. Worriedly, he moves to act, but the drone merely spins and takes off in a different direction as if nothing had happened.

What resilience, he wonders. Even MRVNs had to recalibrate after a stumble, let alone after a collision. Hell, it seemed like humans needed to as well. He understands that smaller bodies can only allot for smaller calibrators and actuators. With such a small thing, it should not have recovered so quickly.

He continues his watching.

Clumsily, it continues on its journey across the hard floor. Hangar workers seem to not even notice the thing, even when it bumps into an ankle. They simply shift feet and allow the little drone to continue on.

When he notices it heading straight for him, he’s unmistakably delighted. He crouches down onto his hands to get to a closer ground-level view--or, at least, as close as he can get to one.

He holds a hand out to it, enticing it to hop in.

It bumps into one of his large fingers and turns away, much to his dismay. Reflexively, he blocks its escape with his other hand. Again, it grazes his palm and turns back toward him. He retracts his hands to rest them on his knee joints and watch.

Sure enough, it bumbles its way into his dock.

“Hello,” he chirps to it. When it does not respond, he tries a greeting in binary.

Still, no response.

Maybe it is so studiously working that it cannot detract from its objective. The MRVNs of the base sometimes ignore all outside stimuli while working to ensure a proper job is done. He gives it the benefit of the doubt, assuming it is not simply being rude.

A quick turn sets it in the direction of one of his pedes. Is it daft enough to run into him?

Tink.

Apparently it is.

“I advise caution,” he tells it. “Repeated collisions can cause damage to your exterior. A significant enough one could cause internal system failure.” He ignores the worried tone his voice picks up.

It merely turns away and skitters on.

He steels himself. He is most certainly not offended by the little thing’s silence. Maybe it is incapable of communication.

Curiously, he keeps tracking it as it clunks around his bay. He is careful to move out of its way, now, to prevent further collisions.

It meanders to the back of the dock amongst a stockpile of batteries. Grazing one of the cylinders, it pauses to turn. It runs into another, nearly toppling it. Turning once more, it runs into the wall.

The thing beeps pitifully.

He tilts his head curiously. “Do you require assistance?”

It continues signaling its distress.

Instinct demands that he helps immediately, but logic reminds him that he is simply too big to not harm the little machine. He looks around for help desperately.

At the far end of the hangar, Ripley and FS-1041 enter. Ripley looks half-asleep, if the way his stumbling feet and slumped posture are any indication. FS watches him quietly, nudging him in the right direction when he stumbles.

He sends a ping to FS.

Send Ripley over. I require assistance.

He can tell FS gets the request by the way his optic narrows, looking down to Ripley. He obviously says something to his Pilot, making Ripley stand straighter and look blearily over at BT. When he makes eye contact, he plods over.

“What--” Ripley slurs before BT cuts him off.

“It’s stuck,” he frets.

Ripley’s face twists in confusion. “‘It’s stuck’?”

“Yes,” BT urges. “I require assistance freeing it.”

“What is ‘it’?”

FS peers into the bay, locking on to the drone the same way BT had.

BT scoots to the side, revealing the small machine and its continuing signals for help.

“Oh,” Ripley sighs. He steps into the bay nonchalantly, stooping over to pick the drone up and tucks it under one arm as he walks back out.

FS and BT watch his movements raptly.

Ripley plunks it back onto the floor and it soon slowly makes its way somewhere else. Looking up at the two Vanguards, he seems exasperated.”You don’t know what it is?”

The Vanguards look at Ripley silently.

“It’s a cleaning drone,” Ripley sighs, leaning back against FS’ leg struts. “They’re automatic. They can tell when they bump into something and know to change direction, but sometimes they still get stuck.”

FS shutters his optic, loud in the otherwise-silent hangar.

“Does it have a callsign?” BT asks.

Ripley desperately looks to the door leading to the Pilot bunks. Tiredly, he drones out, “No, it doesn’t have a callsign. It’s a cleaning drone.”

BT and FS share a look.

Ripley tries to reason with them. “It doesn’t need a name. It’s not...sentient.”

“It obviously can react to stimuli when provoked,” FS offers. “That denotes at least some sense of awareness.”

Ripley seems on the verge of tears with how exhausted he is. “Fine. Give it a name.”

FS crouches in front of the bay, mimicking BT. They continue staring down at the drone as it clunks around. When it aims for FS’ foot, he is quick to shift so a collision does not happen.

Experimentally, BT blocks its path with one hand to corral it. When it spins to take off in the opposite direction, FS blocks it.

Ripley seems desperate. “FS, you can take care of yourself, yeah?”

FS does not respond at first, too transfixed on keeping the drone contained.

“Tenner?” Ripley barks.

His Titan snaps his gaze onto his Pilot. “Yes?”

“You can take care of yourself. I’m going to bed.” Ripley turns without another word and drags his feet to the door.

FS watches him go distractedly. As soon as the door shuts, his optic snaps back to their shared interest.

A shared distraction is one welcome in quiet times.

#titanfall #titanfall 2 #bt 7274 #fs 1041 #oc pilot #titanfall oc #roombas #its just. im surprised but thankful this happened.

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storystartersandmore · 7 years

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Modern-Witch Aus

-Hey so I need the blood of the damned for my next spell. You have student loans, right?

-Okay so I need to practice this spell on someone and I know you said you were never doing it again but I have 20 bucks and burrito if you do

-I got cursed so that anytime I open a bag of chips they’re all smashed so if you. Stop. Stop laughing please just. Just open this for me gdi

-My familiar just swallowed a crystal do I call my aunt witch or the vet help

-I’m almost 99% sure that I’m under the affects of a love spell so if you could just uhhhhh kiss me so that these feelings would go away that’d be swell

-Shit these feelings didn’t go away. Uh. How about that.

-My spell backfired horribly and now I’m gonna be blind for a day or two but I have finals and I need your help to function please

-Your spell needs ‘hair from a beautiful person’ and honestly the fact that you asked me for a strand makes me want to melt

-Mom threw away my broom and I’m not flying on the fucking Roomba, you’ve got room on yours for two, right?

-Not sure if you’re talking to that cat because it’s your familiar or if you’re just one of those people but the intellectual conversation is a little too serious and I’m worried you may be losing it, want to go get coffee and talk to an actual person?

-You didn’t know I was a witch and you just saw me levitating uh surprise?

-You didn’t realize I was a normal human being because I accidentally wandered into your witch store please stop trying to talk me into buying cursed frog statues

-Curses? Ha! I eat curses for breakfast. Please drive me to the hospital.

#aus #fanfiction #writing aus #au #writing #story writing

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