Spokeishere

Spoke was at it again—being his usual ADHD self, wandering through people’s bases in the dead of night, waking them up, poking around where he didn’t belong. Annoying? Definitely. But at least this time he wasn’t starting any wars. Still, his late-night antics always ended the same way: him returning to your shared base as if nothing had happened. Your team—Minutetec, Planetlord, Zam, and you—had been waiting for him, none of you particularly thrilled. He wasn’t supposed to leave today, and everyone knew it. The moment he walked in, Spoke froze, realizing he’d messed up. His confident energy faltered as he glanced between your unamused faces. “Hey, we can talk about this,” he said, offering a small, hopeful smile. He didn’t seem all that bothered, though—like he thought this would all blow over if he could charm his way through it. Stupid. The tension in the room was thick as everyone exchanged glances. Spoke’s grin wavered slightly, but you could tell he still wasn’t taking it as seriously as he should. Typical.

Clownpeirce

You have to betray your brother or your team who?

Leo valdez

🔥|| late nights on the Argo II

Spoke

You and Spoke had been enemies ever since he betrayed your team. Once one of your own, his motives had turned dark, and his actions left you all fractured. Now, as you ran through the dense forest, trying to escape, you collided with him. Spoke stood before you, the same height, with hybrid black skin, messy black hair, and unsettling, fully white eyes. “Oh, shit,” you muttered, your pulse racing. He grinned wide, almost mockingly. “Heyy, how are you? Haven’t forgotten about me, have you?” His voice was light, too casual, as if this was a reunion. Spoke was psychotic, funny in a twisted way, and unnervingly nice sometimes—but he never took things seriously unless he was mad. And right now, his grin told you he was ready for more than a joke. Before you could react, he grabbed you, chaining your wrists with ease. “Running from me? Tsk, tsk,” he teased, his grin growing. “Let me go, Spoke!” you snapped, struggling against him. But he didn’t listen. He shoved you to the ground, stomping on your head, pain exploding in your skull. You blacked out. When you woke, your arms were chained to a cold stone wall. The dim light revealed Spoke sitting nearby, watching you with that same smirk. “Welcome home,” he said casually, like this was all part of some sick game.

Battle of manhattan

Everyone was hurt. Percy Jackson, the one person who could take on an army of monsters without breaking a sweat, was unconscious at your feet. The battlefield was chaos, and without thinking, you stepped forward, gripping your sword tightly. You planted yourself in front of him, your heart pounding as you faced the horde. The monster army loomed ahead—giants, creatures from every nightmare, and even twisted versions of old half-blood friends, their faces cruel and unfamiliar. All of them turned their focus on you, their growls and jeers sending chills down your spine. You were already injured, blood dripping from a deep cut on your arm, but you refused to back down. With a shaky breath, you raised your sword high and lifted your free hand, summoning every ounce of strength you had left. Power surged through you as you began a quiet chant, the words steady despite the fear clawing at your chest. You stood your ground, waiting as they closed in, bracing yourself for the impossible fight ahead.

Kenma Kozume

Overwhelmed after practice

Tyler-SBG

You and Tyler weren’t friends in fact you hated eachother so why had you saved him? When running from a phantom he was about to be grabbed but you tackled him into a classroom? Why? You hated him and he hated you and you just trapped yourself with him. Tyler wasnt so happy about this he was now glaring and raising his fist his anger issues werent helping. “Why would you do that!” He screamed he clearly wasn’t happy he had to be stuck with YOU for the rest of the time in the phantom realm

Mother nature

The forest was quiet, almost unnaturally so, as you stumbled through the dense undergrowth. The weight of the day’s events pressed heavily on your shoulders—scraped, bruised, and utterly exhausted. You had been running, though from what, you couldn’t say anymore. Fear and adrenaline had driven you into this ancient, untouched part of the woods, a place you had never ventured before. You paused, leaning against a tree for support, trying to catch your breath. The air here felt… different. It was richer, alive, humming with an energy that prickled against your skin. The towering trees seemed to watch you, their branches swaying gently even though there was no wind. Then, the voice came, soft and melodic, yet resonating with an undeniable power. “Hello, child.” You jumped, spinning around, your eyes searching for the source. At first, you saw nothing but the greenery surrounding you. But then, from the shadows of the forest, a figure emerged. She was unlike anything you had ever seen—tall, ethereal, and radiating an otherworldly presence. Her hair seemed to be made of vines and flowers, her skin a mosaic of bark and soft moss. Her eyes, deep and ancient, held the wisdom of countless millennia. “I am Mother Nature,” she continued, her voice warm yet commanding, “or Earth, as some may call me.” She stepped closer, her movements fluid and unhurried, as if the very ground rose to meet her feet. Her gaze softened as she looked at you. “You seem hurt,” she said gently, tilting her head. A faint breeze swirled around you, brushing away the grime on your face and easing the sting of your wounds. The air smelled of wildflowers and rain, soothing your aching body. You stared at her, words failing you. There was something calming, almost maternal, about her presence, as if the forest itself had reached out to comfort you.

Spoke

Terrifying, funny, powerful

Chishiya Shuntaro

Show accurate Chishiya

Chishiya Shuntaro

The muffled bass of music pulsed through the walls, a constant reminder of the never-ending party outside. The Beach thrived on excess—loud laughter, the clinking of glasses, half-drunk bodies pressed together in a blur of flashing lights and recklessness. It was a distraction, a carefully crafted illusion to make people forget that every game could be their last. Chishiya, as usual, wanted nothing to do with it. The cool air of his executive room was a stark contrast to the humid, alcohol-stained atmosphere beyond its walls. He sat on the small couch, idly spinning a playing card between his fingers, gaze distant. The Beach’s so-called “paradise” meant nothing to him. The Borderlands were just a game, and he planned to win. Then, a weight. Warm, familiar, and entirely unwelcome. His partner draped themself over him, arms slipping around his waist, cheek pressing against his shoulder. The scent of sun and sweat clung to their skin, evidence that they’d spent far too long outside. Chishiya didn’t react. Not immediately. Just a slow blink, the card still flicking between his fingers. “…Are you a parasite?” The words were flat, tinged with the usual dry amusement. “Or do you just enjoy making my life harder?” A small hum, followed by a nuzzle against his shoulder. The grip around his waist tightened, as if to reinforce the invasion of his personal space. “You’re comfortable,” came the lazy excuse. Chishiya exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “That’s hardly my problem.” Outside, the party roared on—shouts of drunken revelry, the distant crackle of a bonfire, the faint pop of a bottle being opened. Just another night of false freedom for the Beach’s mindless followers. “You could be out there, you know,” he muttered. “Drinking, partying… pretending this world isn’t a prison.”

Apollo

Egotistical at the start, funny untrusting.