#i'll be releasing one poll a day like this (unless i forget)

[precureshowdown]

[riftwalker-limbro]

poll isn't even done yet but i want to write all of these & i just completed my Uni Work For The Day so i can have a little treat. chronologically ordered from least voted to most voted (at time of screenshot) because i thought that'd be fun. one (1) tiny detail was changed on the last one because it would be More Funnier.

another note is that all of the conversations below, unless stated otherwise, happen across passive transference. if you're wondering why Ordis is in on the passive transference, it's because my lore my rules and also i think i explained it once a month or so ago? maybe?

(3.6k words long. oops)

1. the hat

It wasn't anything major - but it did disrupt the lighter contrast markings on the part of Vince that was his hat. It didn't affect any other systems or even the armor in that spot - it was just a scratch.

Just. a. scratch.

Nothing he could reasonably go to the Helminth with to get fixed, he figured. Nothing was broken. It was just an incredibly annoying fucking scratch.

Vince tore himself away from the mirror and strode down the hallway, unable to stop an undercurrent of anger from escaping as he entered the lounge. Kelth was still on the couch - doing something on a datapad, cane balanced against the side of the seat. They looked up and raised a hand to wave him over, when a wave of self-consciousness hit him, and evidently them also - because they suddenly looked concerned. He tried to turn around and walk briskly back to his own room and just never come out again for the rest of his unnatural life, but Kelth mentally caught up with him, requested Transference. Their request was tinged with surprise and concern, so with a sigh, he let them in, and turned back around. Before hearing or saying anything, he dropped himself into the couch, too - luckily, Kelth was on the side that didn't have the scratch. That helped.

"What's going on?" they asked.

"Nothing," Vince bit, a little too harsh.

"Is it anything I can help with?" they said, adding a little grin - he wasn't getting this by them undetected, not in Transference.

He held his breath for a second longer, and when he released it, dropped his head back in surrender. Wordlessly, he took off the hat - it felt weird to have it separated so far from the rest of his body, but he didn't feel like allowing it to inconvenience him more than it already had by standing up to turn his whole body around to show them. He turned it around and showed Kelth. When he felt the understanding on their side, he quickly put it back on, straightening back up a little.

"Why don't you just go to the Helminth with it?" Kelth asked.

"Surely not, nothing's broken," he grumbled. "It's just a scratch."

"So? You're clearly bothered about it," they countered.

"I can't- reasonably go ask the Helminth to cover up a scratch that's otherwise not doing anything!" Vince said, feeling the walls he'd put up between himself and the idea begin to crumble.

"You could," they sent, quirking up an eyebrow at him physically and mentally. He glared at them from the corner of his vision, and after another moment, sighed again and stood up.

"Sure, fine, I'll go see if the creature even wants to do something about it," he said, secretly relieved.

"Don't forget to grab a bag of ferrite to bribe it with!" Kelth said merrily, before closing the connection.

Smartass kid.

After exiting the room barely ten minutes later, Vince was almost embarrassed at how relieved he felt to no longer have a scratch on his hat. On his way back through the lounge, Kelth gave him an enthusiastic double-thumbs-up and a wide grin, and he couldn't stop himself from showing one weak thumbs-up back. His back to them, he could hear them giggle - he didn't even mind.

2: the chakkhurr

"Hmm," Ordis hummed, pensive. If he turned back on their deal now, he would surely tell Sufford, and Vince would never get another chance like this again.

"I'll record all the data," he said. "All the forces, speeds, angles. You know I'm the only one on board who cares as much about exact numbers as you do. Can you imagine Bruiser getting you this data?"

Vince could almost feel the Cephalon glare at him as he considered the deal. "Fine," he finally said, haughtily. "But you can't be down there for long - you know when the others wake up."

Internally, Vince fist-pumped. He'd show Sufford - there was no way he wasn't able to handle the recoil of one little gun. Even if said gun was more than half as long as he was tall.

The Liset detached and set off, speeding down to Earth - he'd sought out the location of a quiet spot before, where he could practice with the rifle in peace. There shouldn't be any Grineer, Ostron, or anyone else around.

When the landing craft settled on the rough terrain, he jumped down before the ramp had fully landed, chakkhurr in his hands. In the not-too-far distance - his aim could still use a lot of improvement, Sufford always told him with a tinge of disappointment - Vince saw a rock that he figured would be good for target practice, and he readied the gun.

It was… kind of heavy, actually. But he didn't allow himself to already start regretting this. "Ready?" he asked.

"Ready," Ordis said. "Go ahead."

He aimed, pulled the trigger, and was briefly startled by the loud boom so close to his face and the cloud of smoke that slightly obscured his vision. The gun dropped from his hands, clattering down to the rocky soil, and he looked down, surprised. Then, the pain in his right arm registered.

"Oh, shit," Ordis said.

---

The thing he was the most annoyed about was that he hadn't even hit the goddamn rock. It hadn't been worth it. Oh man, had it not been worth it.

On the Liset's return to the Orbiter, Vince had felt Sufford at the edge of his mind before the craft had even docked. He let out a deep sigh, careful not to agitate his right arm, currently cradled in his left and feeling like a throbbing world of misery. The chakkhurr was leaning against the Liset's console.

"Did you wake him up?" Vince asked Ordis, stern, deliberately ignoring Sufford requesting contact.

"Vince, you injured yourself!" Ordis protested. "Of course I woke him up!"

"I could've been in and out of the Helminth ward before he would've woken up by himself!" Vince hissed back.

"Then you're not getting an accurate read on your own vitals, because you absolutely would not have!"

The ramp descended, and down in the Orbiter, Sufford stood, arms crossed, radiating disappointment. Trying his best to not feel like a scolded child and partly failing, Vince slunk by him on his way to the Helminth. Sufford was so kind to let out a hint of concern for his current state - but Vince haughtily ignored it as the Helminth's doors closed behind him.

3: arm wrestler

Somehow, against all odds, Verica was back with him, and a part of Vince that he carefully hadn't examined in a long time felt complete again. He felt alive, like he could take on the world.

He might want to reconsider about taking on Bruiser, though.

Of course he'd noticed that Vince had turned into a complete idiot with Verica's arrival. Of course he'd get Vince to essentially pull a prank on himself - an arm wrestling contest with the brute himself. All in view of her, of course. Oh, he was never living this one down.

He hadn't been able to say no to the challenge, once raised. Bruiser had invoked his honour - albeit with much less elegant words. Verica had laughed at the challenge, and Vince couldn't let that stand.

So now he was sitting in the Helminth ward once again, getting his woefully broken arm painfully knit back together - and the pain was at least half his pride as Verica, sitting by his side, merrily continued laughing her ass off at his expense.

"You've seen that guy, right?" she asked him, incredulous, in between bouts of laughter.

"I've had to- ack- share a ship with him for the better part of the last few months," he groused, interrupted by a particularly painful sting from the Helminth. "Of course I've seen him. I've tried my best not to, in fact, but he's just so large-"

"You are such an idiot, you know you don't have to prove yourself for me, right?" she wheezed. Physically, she was shaking with laughter, wings folded on her back but twitching. He wanted to reach out and touch them, but the one arm that was currently functional was holding on to the chair he was in entirely too tight - he wasn't sure that he wouldn't hurt her. Cursed Bruiser.

"I know," he said, "but I just-"

"I bet you couldn't help yourself, you prideful ass - you've not changed a bit," she said, so much fondness in her voice, and right now, Vince would consider it almost worth it, but another sting in his arm interrupted the moment. He hissed in pain, bending forwards slightly, so Verica put her palm on his back, mindful of her own claws, and rubbed in circles, still mentally losing her shit where he could hear it, but physically gentle.

Fine, okay. It was worth it.

4: fireball

Kali was hanging out in the lounge of Ordis' Orbiter, recovering after a draining endurance mission with Sufford and Bruiser. It was currently leaning back in the couch, mesmerised by the flames it was emitting from the tip of its own helmet.

Vince hadn't been the friendliest with it in the past, but he had been turning his attitude around recently, so he supposed he could try to be nicer than he had been. He had grabbed his datapad and bravely marched out of his and Verica's room, sitting down next to Kali without even giving the other a second glance. He heard the fire sputter out, as he registered its surprise at his presence. Then, it greeted him at the edge of his mind.

"Hello," he said stiffly, letting it in.

Kali snort-laughed, and greeted him back. Then, it was silent for another bit, as the little flame started up again. Vince glanced sideways at it - it flickered and sputtered, but never went out.

"Cool, huh?" Kali boasted, noticing his interest.

"Sure," he said, shrugging it off. "The others say you go into battle completely covered in fire. Seeing such a tiny little flame is-"

"Oh, but I do!" it said, extinguishing the flame and raising a hand, summoning a little fireball in its palm. Vince stared at it, mildly uneasy, wondering how Ordis was tolerating this - it didn't look safe at all.

Kali noticed his apprehension. "It's completely safe," it reassured him, "I can control who it injures or what it damages. To me, it's just a little toasty, comfortable even."

Vince doubted that. Before he could dismiss it and return to his valiant attempt at being social without socialising, he sensed an idea click in Kali's head.

"I can give you a demonstration, if you'd like?" it asked, sitting up straighter, mischief bleeding through heavily. "I can tell you're not a believer."

"No, that won't be-"

Vince's hand, which had been hovering above the datapad, was suddenly slightly warmer than the rest of him felt. Toasty, indeed.

Then he looked down with alarm, and realised that was because it was currently on fire. With a mental shout that was sure to be heard by everyone on the ship, he jumped up, the pad clattering to the floor, violently waving his arm back and forth. As soon as he left the couch, however, the rest of him joined his hand in being wreathed in flames.

From his own personal quarters, Sufford shouted something back on the passive transference everyone could hear. Vince wasn't able to discern what Sufford said, exactly, but the flames abruptly extinguished themselves, Kali sending him a sheepish apology as he stomped out of the lounge, already on his way to the Helminth.

---

"What do you mean, there's nothing wrong with me? I was literally on fire not two minutes ago!" Vince said, not believing that he'd heard the creature quite right.

"Little metal brother is fine," the Helminth crooned back at him.

"No damage at all? Not even soot?"

"Completely fine," it hissed, infested tendrils starting to push him out of the room. "No work to be done. Leave."

The door closed again in front of him. He stared at it, speechless.

"Hey there, hottie," Verica said from behind him, amusement coming thick through their bond.

He jumped and turned around, sheepish. "You okay?" she asked, laughter still coming through quite strong.

"Apparently so, according to the Helminth," he said, begrudging. "I find it quite hard to believe."

"Kali sets pretty much everyone it goes on missions with on fire at some point or another," she said, sharing a vision of her point of view, looking down at her own clawed hands, covered in flames.

He let it sink in for a moment - and then sighed. "Ah," he said, reaching up to rub his forehead. Not like he still had a forehead to rub, but just expressing his frustration physically like this helped. "I'm an idiot and I need to go out more?"

Verica snorted. "Not saying you're wrong there," she said, "but don't worry - we all had similar reactions to you, just now. We just didn't really scream it from the rooftops like-"

"Fiiiine," Vince said, raising his hands in surrender and shouldering past her and her broad wings, "I get it, I-"

"You were just a little bit loud, there," Verica said, allowing him past but following him.

"I'm not-"

"Just a bit. I think even a few other ships nearby-"

"Verica, please," he pleaded, though her amusement was contagious, and he could see the humour in his entire situation just fine. "I need to go sit down for a minute. Far away from any fire-breathers who are out to give me what would have been a heart attack had I still been human."

"Let me know if I should kick its ass for doing that to you without warning," she said warmly, with zero bite or actual promise to go threaten Kali in any way.

He rolled his eyes at her, now feeling warm without any help from Kali's flames.

5: sharpie

Vince had thought he had run out of luck for the rest of his life when they found Verica's traces, but when they picked up a new Tenno with a suspiciously familiar-feeling warframe and when he'd picked a fight with him out of instinct, another miracle had happened. Or maybe it was a curse - because it had been Pule, who'd somehow also found himself as a warframe, a thousand years out of time. Just like him and Verica.

The three of them were catching up in the lounge of the Orbiter, which was growing ever-more cramped - Ordis had been threatening them with finding a larger Orbiter wreck and making them all restore it by hand instead of hiring contractors for it if they adopted one more person into their crew. Presently, Pule and Verica were bonding over their favourite shared hobby - bullying Vince, apparently.

"Hell, but you look different!" Pule said, laughing, giving him another glance up and down, Vince crossed his arms, quite done with being looked at for the day, and if he was honest, the week. "Though your fashion sense absolutely saved you. I mean, look at me!"

Pule spread his arms, one covered in shiny black metal ridges and the other one's surface wavy with Infested tissue sprouting seemingly randomly. His head was the same, and his fingers were tipped with long, lethal-looking claws. He laughed again, before rounding on Verica.

"And you! You look just- just like-"

"Like how I did on stage, just more," she said, amusement and pride weaving through. "You really did end up with the short end of the stick, here, Pule."

"Aw, nah, I think I look just fine! Badass, dangerous, very threatening! At least I didn't have any facial hair to lose, I mean," and he gestured at Vince, again. He sent Pule a mental glare and a warning, which was entirely ignored. "At least I wasn't downgraded like that!"

"Hm, yeah, I've gotta agree with you there," Verica said, bringing up her hand to stroke her own chin, thoughtful. "I do miss the goatee."

Vince's hand theatrically flew up to where a small, triangular ornament decorated his chin. "It's not like I could choose," he complained, melodramatic. "I just had to make do with what I could find, here."

---

What Vince didn't notice was that Bruiser had just walked past them, and had overheard - they were on the public frequency, and not exactly quiet. As Verica mock-consoled Vince's mock-hurt feelings, Bruiser pulled Pule aside.

"What did she say he had?" he asked, curiosity like a vulture spotting a fresh kill. Pule's heart leapt - a kindred soul, one like he would recognise anywhere. A fellow prankster.

"A goatee," he whispered, conspiratorially. "It would get hilariously scruffy when he forgot to go to sleep for a few days at a time - but otherwise he'd always keep it impeccably groomed."

Bruiser's thoughts whirred for a second, and then he leaned in. "I know where Vince keeps his whiteboard markers."

Bingo. "Lead the way, good man!" Pule said, happily.

---

"-and, actually, where'd Pule go?" Vince asked, suddenly suspicious. In the past, it had never been a good sign when Pule left somewhere without announcing it, and he doubted that had changed at all.

Verica mentally sent him a shrug. Well, whatever. Wherever Pule had fucked off to, Vince had more entertaining company right here.

Suddenly, he was bodily picked up and lifted off his feet, his arms pinned to his sides. The arms around him were entirely too broad to be sensible- "Bruiser, what the-"

Kicking the empty air in front of him, he was swung around, and was suddenly facing Pule. Who was holding out one of the markers from his room, uncapped, and was undeniably radiating glee.

Before he could put one and one together, he could already feel the cool tracks of the marker drying on his face.

Oh, he was airlocking them both.

Bruiser released him, howling with laughter, and Vince jumped the hell away and turned around, pointing a finger at Pule. "You!" he shouted.

Pule was kneeling, hands to the Orbiter's floor, wheezing. "Oh my god, you're still just as bouncy," he cackled. "Maybe even more so now that your creaky knees can't stop you anymore."

Vince glanced over to Verica, his last hope for sanity - but even she was holding a hand to her face, stifling her giggles for his sake. Oh, whatever, he signaled at her, there's barely anything left to salvage, anyway.

"It looks perfect, Pule, great job," Verica said, choked.

Pule gave up trying to remain off the floor and just rolled over onto his back, still choking on his air intake.

"I think I'll go inspect the damage," Vince said, barely suppressing amusement at the general state of his two best friends and Bruiser. He stalked off towards the bathroom, where there would be a mirror and a sink. And some washcloths that the resident Tennos hopefully wouldn't mind getting slightly ruined.

---

It was an uneven circle, drawn around the triangle ornament, in a black only a few shades darker than the grey of his armor. Vince snorted at the sight, leisurely plotting his revenge against Pule as he wetted a cloth and gently rubbed it over the tracks. It came away with… barely any black on it.

Oh hell no.

"Pule, what marker did you grab?" he sent out.

Pule replied with a mental image of one of his markers. Distinctly one of his non-whiteboard markers.

Fuck.

"You complete idiot," he sighed. "That was a permanent marker."

Across the ship, he could hear the Transference disturbances as Pule shared this with Verica and Bruiser, and they collectively lost their shit once more.

Well, he was going to be in here for a while. Better get started. He wetted the cloth again, and started rubbing with more strength. He could see it disappearing, just a little bit, transferring the ink to the cloth, so with renewed hope, he kept going at it. Until-

Clink.

He froze. Removed the cloth from his face and looked down.

It was the forever-cursed triangle ornament, soundly detached from his face.

---

"What do you mean, Sufford's going to be in there for at least another two hours?" Vince whisper-shouted at Ordis, holding the blasted triangle tightly in his fist.

"He has been in there for several hours already," Ordis said. "He will be in there for several more. This procedure cannot be interrupted!"

"Ordis," Vince said, resorting to bargaining, "Ordis, listen. A man has emergencies, yes?" He turned around, to Ordis' camera, raising himself up from his slouch, brandishing his face and holding up the detached triangle.

Ordis' vocaliser released the beginning of a cackle, before it abruptly cut off.

"Oh, not you too," Vince groaned.

"I'll let you know when Sufford has vacated the premises," Ordis said, voice tight with reined-in laughter. "In the meanwhile, if you need somewhere to hide, I can lock the Liset and-"

"No, no, my pride is already in shambles anyway," he said, waving over his shoulder as he turned back to the lounge area, dragging his feet dramatically as he went. "I'll just go be the entertainment for two more hours, I think."

He was just glad he didn't have to wait days for his facial hair to grow back anymore, these days. And it helped that he could sense no malicious intent behind any of their laughs. His misery was only temporary, and he was happy to see them happy.

And he was absolutely doing the same to Pule the second his bastard back was turned. Bruiser too, the traitor.

i just had a horrible idea