masterlist - points

▬▬▬▬ SWC July 2022: Masterlist
♠ Masterlist of SWC writings.
⤿ Some stories may contain triggers.

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i | Main Cabin Dailies

- 07.01.22 | Introductions ↬ 202 words
- 07.02.22 | Lies of Freedom ↬ 591 words
- 07.03.22 | That Day at Toys “R” Us ↬ 822 words
- 07.04.22 | Elia's Chores ↬ 845 words
- 07.05.22 | The Art of Squishy Bones ↬ 893 words

ii | Main Cabin Weeklies

▬▬▬▬ WEEKLY #1: Fanfiction
- PART 1 | Spider-Man: Into the Anime ↬ 283 words + x words

▬▬▬▬ WEEKLY #2: n/a
- PART 1 | n/a

▬▬▬▬ WEEKLY #3: n/a
- PART 1 |

▬▬▬▬ WEEKLY #4: n/a
- PART 1 | n/a

iii | Writing Contest Entry

- mm.dd.yy | title ↬ wordcount

iv | Other Works

- 07.03.22 | On the Run ↬ 953 words

v | Word Wars

- mm.dd.yy | title ↬ wordcount

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Sparrow (she/her) | Poetry | 1,213/40k
©spire- on scratch. do not steal my work.

masterlist - points

▬▬▬▬ SWC July 2022: Poetry Points
♠ Poetry Point Tracker.
⤿ current total words: 5,600 words

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⤷ main cabin daily: 1 ◍
⤷ main cabin weekly: 5 ◍
⤷ poetry weekly adventure: 3 ◍
⤷ reaching your word goal: 2 ◍
⤷ critiquing another camper's writing: 1 ◍
⤷ using a prompt from the poetry waterfall: 1 ◍
⤷ sharing writing: 1 ◍
⤷ entering the writing competition: 8 ◍
⤷ doing the nyt wordle: 1 ◍

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July 01.【 total words: 582, total points: 2 】

words: 202 words (swc main cabin introduction), 64 words (ssc main cabin introduction), 124 words (ssc chemistry introduction), 93 words (checkm4te about me), 99 words (roleplay)

geodes: +1 ◍ (main cabin daily), +1 ◍ (sharing writing)

July 02.【 total words: 1,052, total points: 4 】

words: 40 words (roleplay), 591 words (main cabin daily), 421 words (bonfire introduction)

geodes: +1 ◍ (main cabin daily), +2 ◍ (wishing well prompt), +1 ◍ (sharing writing)

July 03.【 total words: 1,945, total points: 2 】

words: 934 words (wishing well prompt), 189 words (short story blurb), 822 words (main cabin daily)

geodes: +1 ◍ (main cabin daily), +1 ◍ (sharing writing)

July 04.【 total words: 845, total points: 2】

words: 845 words (mc daily)

geodes: +1 ◍ (mc daily), +1 ◍ (sharing writing)

July 05.【 total words: 1,176, total points: 2 】

words: 893 words (mc daily), 283 words (start weekly)

geodes: +1 ◍ (mc daily), +1 ◍ (sharing writing *?*)

July 06.【 total words: n/a, total points: n/a 】

none.

July 07.【 total words: n/a, total points: n/a 】

words: 282 words (word war),

geodes:

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Sparrow (she/her) | Poetry | 5,600/40k
©spire- on scratch. do not steal my work.

masterlist - points

▬▬▬▬ Lies of Freedom.
♠ July 02, 2022.
⤿ 591 words.

♠ Prodigious sibling versus less-powerful sibling fight? It is decided so.
♠ Two siblings, Creed and Galille, live in a world of endless war. Gally believes they are fighting for freedom, Creed believes it is all a lie. She is willing to do whatever it takes to be truly free. But is her type of freedom the right type of freedom?

⤿ Do I love angst? Yup! Am I good at writing it? No way. (But I'm trying my best to improve!)

⚠ triggers: fighting, slight angst, mentions of war and fighting, harsh word(s) used

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“I have never been satisfied? Don’t you understand?” I stared at my brother menacingly, rage radiating off my clean-cut figure. My usually well put hair had strands sticking out and my robes were wrinkled. They were never wrinkled. I was slipping. I put my hands in my hair, smoothing it back while taking a deep breath.

Galilee bit his lip, glaring at me with hatred. I never thought a brother could look at his sister that way. I never believed Gally would look at me with such disgust. “I’m sorry, but I don’t!” he responded, clenching his jaw. “You’re living with so much corruption that it drives you mad these days! I don’t get it! I don’t understand, Creed. What makes you act this way?” His eyes began to water as he watched me slowly slip down the drain. I only cackled. “Of course you don’t understand,” I muttered through clenched teeth, “Nobody ever does.” I was right. No one would understand the madness of this cruel world.

“But I can! I can understand. It doesn’t have to be like this! I don’t want it to be like this!” I snapped my head to my brother with a face of mixed emotions: shock, anger, sadness, fear. “If you don’t want it to be like this, you would trust me.” The room went quiet. The tension was thick. “I’m not the mad one, Gally, the world is!” I yelled, throwing my hands into the air, making my way away from my father’s throne. “Hugo died because I wasn’t good enough for this world.”

“No he didn’t!” Gally screamed, wiping his tear-stained face. “You aren’t, you never were! You’re fine, Creed, you’re fine!” Lies. All lies. He was trying to convince himself.

“You’re a liar, Galilee!” I said, making my sword appear. “Throughout my whole d-mn life, I was raised to meet the expectations of this world – a world with unrealistic ones! Why do we have to live in this world of war? This world of chaos! Is this what you want? I’m doing this for you! I’m doing this for freedom.”

Our world has been fighting against each other of millenia. It was always one thing they wanted: freedom. Freedom from what? Freedom from the poisons of sin? Freedom from the filth of mankind? Freedom from society? From the chains that keep us bound to a world of pain and misery? Maybe if the world stopped fighting, then maybe we could have freedom. “This is just the way of the world, Creed. Nothing can change without war, without power amongst another. The weaker will always lose, the powerful will always win. Then, they will forget about the fighting and it will only go back to more war. The world revolves around battles of man and sin. All the world knows is pain.” That’s what my father told me. I don’t believe that. “Do you believe in freedom, Galilee?” I whispered, lowering my sword.

“No, I don’t,” he said, walking out of the throne room and leaving me with a dagger in my chest. It hurt. My own brother didn’t trust me. Still, I knew what Galilee meant. He didn’t believe in my freedom. “Fine then,” I whispered to myself, “Sing your songs of freedom. Don’t come crying when you don’t see the sunrise.”

No matter how much my brother wanted things to be different, I knew this is how it must always end.

I have found a new type of freedom. I will be free. I will be free from these lies.

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Sparrow (she/her) | Poetry | 591/40k
©spire- on scratch. do not steal my work.

masterlist - points

▬▬▬▬ On the Run.
♠ July 03, 2022.
⤿ 935 words.【 will update! 】

♠ Vi from Poetry created the amazing prompt of using a song to write a story! I chose the song Nancy Mulligan by Ed Sheeran to inspire my story! This song has been in my head for a while and has great potential for a story plot, especially since it's one of Sheeran's more personal songs about his grandparents falling in love during World War II.
♠ Clyde is a prince from the kingdom of Nevaeh, which is known for it's freedom and philosophy. Jane is a princess from the rivaling kingdom of Sinnet, which is known for it's poetry and medicine. But Clyde doesn't want to learn in a room all day, he wants to explore, learn about dentistry. Jane doesn't want to be confined to the role society see's women as, she want's to learn, to read. Clyde wants to learn about dentistry, Jane wants to gain more knowledge. They're living each other's dream lives, but being from enemy kingdoms won't make their lives any easier. As said in Sheeran's song, “She and I went on the run. Don't care about religion! I'm gonna marry the woman I love.”

⤿ KJasdefdysf- Enemy kingdoms? Enemies to lovers? Love and war? A head-strong princess? A bored prince? I. Will. Write. It. I HAVE SO MUCH POWER MWAHAHAHAHA! >

⚠ triggers: fighting, slight angst, mentions of war

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I met the love of my life at twenty-four years old during the second Tengent War. The kingdoms of Tengent once lived in perfect harmony: freedom, food, love, and laughter all coming together as one. The kingdom of Nevaeh in the north was most famous for its nature, music, and philosophy. It was the land of freedom and beauty. Their philosophers were the wisest and their jesters were the wittiest. In the east, Escade, an ally of Sinnet, was most famous for their food and drink. Their wine and cheese was simply the best in all of Tengent. Anyone would begin to drool at the smell of Escadian food penetrating the air. Down south, Sinnet stood proud for their skill in medicine and poetry. It was the capital kingdom of love. Lastly, in the west of Tengent, was Winot, the kingdom of laughter. Winot was not only notorious for their abundance in precious minerals, but also their kindness to their partners. They had gold and silver, but above all, their most precious treasure was laughter – you could never take that away from the hearty Winnians.

As fate would have it, that harmony was torn apart by the sin of this world. Sinnet was envious of Nevaeh’s beauty. Nevaeh could always out do them; Nevaeh would always do it better. They became rivaling kingdoms. I have always assumed the story was much deeper than just jealousy, but I never understood politics. I was more of a curious lad at heart. Rather than sitting listening to lectures about the history of my kingdom, I would go out and ride on my white Arabian horse, Eurydice. She was swift and durable – a steadfast friend. But as the prince of the kingdom of freedom, I was obligated to the boring lessons Professor Willock would teach up in my tower. If I was being honest, I would rather be learning about dentistry! My brother, Cyrus, always thought I was interested in stories of elves and warlocks, short men with big feet and giant dragons of gold. That’s what he liked; I liked medicine.

“And that is how the north dominated the first war of Tengent. Read the first 200 pages of Nevaeh: A Historical Haven by this Wednesday.” Professor Willock looked at me doubtfully through his round spectacles before exiting the tower. Hearing the sound of footsteps fade away, I flicked the small ball of paper sitting on the edge of my desk. “As if. Twenty-four years old and stuck with this rubbish instead of going out and about enjoying my childhood like a normal… Child!” I exclaimed, banging my head on my desk. “But I’m a prince,” I mumbled to myself. “I’m a prince!” I groaned.

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“Jane!” My mother called, entering my room. “Yes, mother?” I answered, looking up from my fantasy book for a split second before quickly looking back to the pages of the fantasia. It was about a mushroom fairy and a fungus prince from two rivaling kingdoms in an enchanted forest. They met in the middle of a battle, the prince instantly being captivated by the fairy’s beauty. But she wouldn’t have it. She had been told to sit still and look pretty, but she knew she was capable of so much more. She was well-read and good at fighting. She didn’t need some fungus prince to protect her. And then-

“Jane! Put that darn book down!” my mother yelled, snapping out of my fantasy. She snatched the book from my hands and slammed it against the table. “Your head is always stuck in some- some book! It’s filling your head with all this air! That is not healthy!” I frowned. “It is not!” I countered, standing from my seat. “It’s- It’s knowledge and creativity!” Mother held up the book. “This? This is knowledge? Knowledge is power! Knowledge is useful! This is not useful! This will not help you become a good healer! This will not make you a good leader!” she shouted, throwing the book across the room. “Find The Healing Way of Sinnet, not some garbage! Don’t disappoint me,” she spat, storming out of my chamber.

I ran to my bed and began to sob, burying my face in my pillow. “It’s not garbage. It’s beautiful,” I mumbled. My mother didn’t understand that. For a kingdom that loved poetry, my mother did not. I never understood why. She didn’t want me to be a poet, she wanted me to be a healer. She didn’t think poetry would help me stand behind a man for the rest of my life. “You need knowledge and skill! Not words and imagination!” she’d say. “Words will not help you when you spend your life in silence behind a man! Words are nothing when you are a woman! You need to obey and do what you are told. That’s it. That’s all you were made to do.” The heroines in my book didn’t do that. They never stayed silent. Well, some of them wait for a big, strong man to come and save them, but the heroines I read about didn’t do that. I wouldn’t do that either.

I lifted my head up, the book I was reading laying open on my velvet sheets. I reached for it, feeling the pages, the smooth cover. Releasing a shaky sigh, I hugged the book to my chest. I had a world in my hands and my mother didn’t know it. She never would.

“Maybe if I wasn’t the princess of Sinnet, I could do whatever I wanted. I could go wherever I want to,” I whispered before closing my eyes.

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Sparrow (she/her) | Poetry | 2,569/40k
©spire- on scratch. do not steal my work.

masterlist - points

▬▬▬▬ The Day at Toys “R” Us.
♠ July 03, 2022.
⤿ 822 words.

♠ Today we had to write about a time we helped someone!
♠ I wrote 800 words about one of the experiences that has stuck with me for the thirteen years of my life. I remember the days Toys “R” Us was closing, a little boy crying, a tin of army figures, and how that experience impacted me today. This is once of the several events that had led me to my life's ambition of philanthropy!

⤿ Dedicated to that little boy somewhere out there.

⚠ triggers: none. tell me if i missed any!

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Do any of you remember the time Toys “R” Us was closing? Yeah, a lot of children were in a panic. I even remember one girl on the news raising money so the toy store we all loved could stay open. She had said, “I want my kids to experience my childhood. I couldn’t imagine Toys “R” Us not being part of that. No matter how many people tried to keep the company from closing.

One night, before my local Toys “R” Us was shutting down, my parents took me and my sister to the store. I didn’t understand why. Sure, I was sad such a nostalgic place was being cut from the world, but we were rushing to a toy store at seven o’clock at night to get the things on sale. I didn’t think it was a big deal. So, we went to Toys “R” Us.

We bought Play-Doh, that giant egg thing that was popular back then, and a bunch of other stuff. I remember my Dad putting a bunch of toys in the cart for my cousins in the Philippines. My mom, who was just trying to save money, was looking up things online. “Anak,” she said to me, “We can get this on Amazon instead, okay?” That still makes me laugh to this day because there was clearly a sign right behind her saying, “Please don’t compare prices to other retails.” That didn’t stop any moms there, though. All the moms were on their phones ready to check out before the store closed up for the last time.

I also remembered that it was my friend’s birthday soon, so I got her a few things that were on sale. A charms bracelet kit, some surprise toy pack, and I think a coloring book. We checked out and left just as the store was closing. I remembered walking out with a bag in my hand while my parent’s carried the rest. It was sad to leave the store once and for all. I looked back at the toy machine sadly. My nemesis. That machine would never win me a prize!

As we walked to our car, we heard a loud wailing. There was a boy my age, maybe a year older, crying in front of the store as his parents and sister dragged him away. They had come too late and weren’t able to enter. I felt so bad. I was happy with the toys I bought, but it was heartbreaking to see that kid not able to live his childhood one last time.

Looking down at my bag, I saw a tin of army figurines my dad probably bought for one of my younger, mlae cousins. I wanted to give that boy something. I shook one of my parents and whispered, “Can we give him something?” My mom looked around, but the family had already driven away. “They already left, anak.” I remember my mom telling me that.

The ride home was silent. I looked out the window remembering the boy crying. I thought, if I was the boy, how would I feel? I know I couldn’t do anything about it, I wanted to, but it seemed fate wouldn’t have it.

When we got home, taking the haul into the house, my sister immediately started unboxing her toys while I watched her. “Can I open this, Mama?” she asked, the plastic already partly off. My mom laughed. “Of course.” I, on the other hand, just sat there. “Do you want to open your gifts, (insert my name here)?” my mother asked, sitting next to me. I shook my head. She raised a brow. “Why not?”

“I feel bad about the boy who didn’t get a toy,” I replied as she side-hugged me. “So I’m not going to open my toy’s till tomorrow.” I wanted to do this because I knew there were probably a lot of kids who didn’t have the privilege that I had. Even the poorer kids who had never had a toy in their life. My mom only smiled. “You have empathy, anak. I am so proud of you.”

I raised my head to her. “What’s empathy?” I asked as my sister joined the conversation, dropping the toy she had in her hands. “It’s putting yourself in someone else’s shoes,” my mom replied simply. I nodded and just stared at the cylinder of army figurines.

I was never really able to help the boy physically, but I think God knows I tried. And now that I’m older, I’ve set a goal for myself and made it my life’s ambition to be a philanthropist to people who have less than me. I’m doing pretty well if I say so myself. To this day, I still have those army figurines. My little brother, who was born a few years later, plays with those figurines. Still, I still think about the little boy at Toys “R” Us.

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Sparrow (she/her) | Poetry | 3,391/40k
©spire- on scratch. do not steal my work.

masterlist - points

▬▬▬▬ Elia's Chores.
♠ July 04, 2022.
⤿ 845 words.

♠ Today's daily was to write a vague story and an ambiguous story. I decided to connect both! :D
♠ Elia is a little airhead who is easily distracted. When she's told to get the sugar, her mother's directions aren't clear enough. When she's told to do her chores, she interprets the list another way!

⤿ For those ADHD moments I've had- Oh, and dedicated to my favorite childhood series, Amelia Bedelia by Peggy Parish!

⚠ triggers: none!

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Elia was a six-year-old girl. She was a bit of an airhead and was very easily distracted.

“Oh, it seems I’ve left my paints downstairs!” she exclaimed, running back down to the living room. On her way to get her paints, she saw her mother baking brownies. “Oh, mama! Are you baking brownies?” Her mother nodded. “Yes. Elia, dear, can you grab the sugar from the cupboard?” Forgetting what she came down for, Elia simply nodded, walking to a small little cupboard and grabbing a jaw of brown sugar. She skipped back to her mother and placed the jar next to the flour.

“Oh, Elia! I meant the white sugar. The powdery one!” Elia grabbed the jar and put it back in the little cupboard. She didn’t remember where her mom usually put the sugar, but she did see some white powdery stuff near the back of the small cupboard. “This must be it!” she whispered to herself triumphantly, grabbing the container of white powder. She skipped back to her mother and placed the container on the counter. She climbed upon a tall stool and sat down. “This must be the sugar, mama!” she said happily. “It’s white and powdery.”

Upon seeing the white, powdery substance, her mother’s eyes widened. “O-oh! I think that sugar’s gone bad, dear,” she stuttered, quickly removing it from Elia’s reach. Elia tilted her head. “How so, mama?” Her mother just smiled nervously, disposing of the so-called sugar. “I think your Uncle Jonas left it here the last time he visited,” she explained, a hint of anger in her voice. Elia didn’t notice the anger, though. She just nodded. “Well that was a long time ago! I was probably four when Uncle Jojo came to visit!”

Determined to find the correct sugar, Elia hopped from the stool. “I still want to get the sugar, mama! Please!” Her mother looked down at her wearily. “Oh well, why don’t you do your chores instead? I left a list by the house phone.” Elia deflated. “Fine. I’ll go do the chores, mama.” She stomped away with her little feet, in her little red boots.

“Maybe mama should label her sugar,” she muttered, her footsteps going pitter patter against the tiled floss. “And the cupboards, too. There are too many!” she added, passing the red house phone. She stopped. “What was I looking for again?” she whispered, tapping her chin and looking at a picture hung on the wall. It was a picture of her Golden Labrador, Chippy. “Oh, Chippy, I miss you,” she said aloud, placing her small hand on the frame that displayed the recently put-down dog. The red phone caught her eye from the side. “Oh, the list!” she exclaimed, running to the little red phone. “I was looking for the list!”

She skimmed the paper. “Okay. So first I need to change my pillowcases.” Elia blew a raspberry. “That’s easy!” She rushed up the stairs, tripping in the process; she resorted to climbing on all fours instead. “I’m going to need some crayons! No, markers!” The little girl grabbed some markers from her art desk and jumped on her bed. “I’ll use blue first – it goes with my yellow sheets!” She then uncapped the blue marker and began to draw on the yellow pillowcase. “Some flowers there… Ooh, Chippy!” She then drew a puppy. Once she was satisfied with her work, she smiled. “Great! The Pillows are all changed!”

Elia took the list out of her pocket and crossed it off. “Changing my pillowcases, check! Next I need to draw the curtains in Daddy’s office.” She rolled her eyes. “Mama really wants me to do art today, huh?” She left the room and skipped to her dad’s office. She entered the room and scanned it for a piece of… “Printer paper! Yes!” she cheered, taking a piece from her dad’s desk. “Ooh, and the cool golden pencil.” She then began to draw the curtains. Once Elia finished the sketch, she grinned, placing the drawing on her father’s desk and signing it. “Too easy!” she laughed, leaving the office.

Finally, it was time for her last chore: take out the trash.

“Elia? Elia?” her mom called out once the brownie’s were out of the oven. “Where is that girl?” she whispered. The woman walked down the stairs only to see her daughter punching the garbage can. “Oh, Elia! I leave the kitchen for a second to find you and you’re punching the trash!” She held her daughter back. “But mama! You said to take out the trash! I’m taking it out!” The woman raised a brow, allowing herself to process the statement. “Take out the…” She began to laugh.

“Mama!” Elia yelled, shaking her mother. “What’s so funny? Mama! Mama!” The woman wiped a tear from her face. “I meant to take it outside, not take it out like some criminal.” Elia blushed sheepishly. “So, um, did you mean to change the pillowcases and draw the curtains, too?” Her mother’s face became pale. “Elia! Not the pillowcases!” The girl only giggled.

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Sparrow (she/her) | Poetry | 4,604/40k
©spire- on scratch. do not steal my work.

masterlist - points

▬▬▬▬ The Art of Squishy Bones.
♠ July 05, 2022.
⤿ 893 words.

♠ So we're using proverbs, eh? Time to get out my book of inspiration Sun Tzu quotes!
♠ Using the words of Technoblade's mentor, Sun Tzu, I took from the book, “Appear weak when you are strong and strong when you are weak,” while also referencing some Danny Gonzales and Percy Jackson. Why? Because I felt like it! Join fourteen-year-old Milo on his monologue of death as he tells you a bit about himself and his life with “squishy bones.” <3

⤿ I don't really have anything to say. :) OH WAIT- I DO! ASSASINATION CLASSROOM :clap:

⚠ triggers: mc death, harsh word(s) used (not in a mean way! just as expression.), mentions of KOTLC (fans, stay back. don't come at me.), character has two moms (so if that's not okay with you, kindly, please leave. we support that here.)

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My name is Milo Washington and I’m fourteen years old. I have always been a big fan of Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. One of my favorite sayings of his is, “Appear weak when you are strong and strong when you are weak.” I don’t know why it interested me so much, it just did. You see, I have a disease known as osteogenesis imperfecta, or brittle bone disease; it means my bones break easily. And as Danny Gonzales would put it, “My bones are getting squishy.” Though that’s not really the case, I find the joke funny. Insert non-sarcastic laugh here.

As you can see, despite my lifelong, life-threatening disease, I’m a pretty lighthearted kid. I like playing Animal Crossing, watching Danny Gonzales and Technoblade, listening to Alec Benjamin, and watching baseball. I’ve always wanted to play baseball, but that’s not exactly possible, is it? Among other things, I also like reading. I’m a big fan of Percy Jackson and The Olympians and Rick Riordan’s other works. I like the concept of a bunch of dyslexic kids with parental issues running around a secret camp with weapons, preparing themselves to face horrendous beasts while their parents drink three-thousand year old wine up in heaven. I mean, if you put it that way it sounds really sad, but I’m a “squishy bone” kid, I’d like to live that life of adventure!

Oh, and did I mention I’m also homeschooled? Yeah, I am. My two pretty cool moms have supported me since day one. I also lived past twelve years old, so that's something to be thankful for.

Even though I had a great life, I was recently told I have twelve to twenty-four hours to live because the doctors found out I have intracranial bleeding – it’s basically bleeding inside the skull that puts pressure on my itty-bitty brain. I didn’t know the blood wasn’t supposed to be there! But yeah, my best-friend Jess visited me and brought the boys, too. Matty was crying because he said this was giving him “sad anime scene” vibes. He put his Assasination Classroom episode on hold to come see me, so I applauded him for his dedication. My other friend, Raphael, made me a cool card with his art skills and drew me in a Camp Half-Blood shirt; Raph is a real one. Even if I do have a day to live, I’m happy I was surrounded with the people I loved.

Then Jess asked me, “Milo, aren’t you scared?” and I looked at her like she was crazy. “No, of course not,” I said sarcastically, “I’m so excited to meet Hades in the Underworld.” My three friends just blinked. “Hell yeah! Of course I’m scared – I’m terrified!” I chuckled nervously. “But how are you so strong?” Matty whispered, looking at me with his doe-eyes. Oh, Matty. I’m gonna miss you, buddy. “Well,” I thought aloud, “I once read something on Pinterest that said, ‘Life is a beautiful lie and death is the painful truth,’ and you have to accept the truth, right? I also found out that day that my life was a lie, but yeah.” My friends chuckled, making me smile. “I also lived a good life. It may have been short, but it was something. I read so many books that I don’t think I need a second one. There’s another quote, it goes, ‘A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one.’ I think a guy named George R.R. Martin said that,” I added. “But if I could live another life with you guys, you know I’d choose that over anything.”

“What about living a life in the Percy Jackson world?” Raph asked. I gasped. “You want a squishy bones kid to run from a bull-man and use a sword? No thank you!” I joked. “But what if you didn’t have brittle bones,” Jess inquired. I rolled my head backwards and groaned. “Don’t make me choose between you guys and PJO! That’s like making Matty choose between us and Keepers of the Lost City!” It was Matty’s turn to gasp. “Nuh-uh! Not KOTLC! Never will you make me choose! But honestly I would choose Kee- I mean you guys!” Matty answered, earning a slap on the head from Jess. We all laughed.

“You’re so strong, Milo,” Raph said after a few minutes. I nodded. “Thanks, anger issues,” I replied, using the nickname we gave Raph a few years back. It was a happy moment, but then breathing got hard.

It does hurt to know I’m dead, if I’m being honest. It pains me as my little ghosts watch my friends cry and beg me to come back. I didn’t want to leave my moms, I didn’t want to leave Jess, or Matty, or Raph. If my ghostly-self could shed salty tears, I bet it would. But it couldn’t. I could only watch as the memories flash in front of me while the doctor expresses her condolences. I guess it’s true, death is the painful truth.

In the end, yes, I was a weak, squishy bones kid, but I took the great general’s advice: I stayed strong when I was weak. As I feel myself slipping from the mortal world, I hear my mama whisper, “You can rest now, Milo. You can rest now.”

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Sparrow (she/her) | Poetry | 5,317/40k
©spire- on scratch. do not steal my work.

masterlist - points

▬▬▬▬【 WEEKLY #1: Fanfiction (PART 1) 】Spider-Man: Into the Anime (MHA x Spider-Man).

♠ Sixteen-tear-old Peter Parker, also known as the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, is facing angry mobs, his secret identify being exposed, the pressures of a teenage life, and so much more. Upon trying to fix his situation, he ends up in the anime world of My Hero Academia and meets another hero by the name of Deku. UA student Izuku Midoriya is also a sixteen-year-old juggling the life of a hero and a teen. When the two meet, how will it all go down?

⚠ triggers: spoilers, big spoilers! (TBA)

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【 283 words 】(note: SPOILERS ahead! proceed with CAUTION.)

Character Reference Sheet for Spider-Man/Peter Parker (Tom Holland)
(Between Far From Home and No Way Home, MCU Spider-Man Franchise)
Series continuing or ended? - Continuing

Pronouns: He/him
Sexuality: Straight
Species: Human (with spider-like abilities and altered genetics)

Strengths: Intelligent, loyal, witty, selfless, tactician, multilingual (English, Spanish, a bit of Italian), combat, caring, enthusiastic, courageous, humorous, sarcastic, hopeful
Weaknesses: Impulsive, doubtful, child-like, naive, can be too reliant, socially awkward, people pleaser

General View of Life: Hopeful, high-value

Relationships:
- Peter Parker/Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man (Alternate self)
- May Parker (Aunt and guardian)
- Ned Leeds (Best friend)
- Michelle Jones “MJ” (Girlfriend)
- Tony Stark/Iron Man (Mentor, idol, father figure)
- Nick Fury (Ally)
- Quentin Beck/Mysterio (Enemy)
- Doctor Strange (Ally)
- more…

Tendencies:
- Tends to act childish or have “nerdy” moments, especially when pop culture is part of the situation.
- Tends to put too much pressure on himself and wants to do more.
- Tends to try to impress the adults around him.
- Tends to be socially awkward especially around heroes.
- Tends to use witty remarks or quip his enemies (smart mouth).

Situations:
- Loss of mentor, idol, and father figure Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man.
- Alter ego recently revealed to the world along with so-called murder of Mysterio.

Romantic Struggles:
- First time in a relationship and is sometimes awkward.
- Getting used to this whole “relationship stuff.”
- Aunt May tends to embarrass him at times.
- Has an alter ego and struggles to keep up with that in the beginning.

Helping Others:
- Wants to help others in any chance he gets, whether helping someone cross the street, find their bike, or stop a band of robbers.
- Feels pressured by the situation he’s stuck in and blames himself for it.

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Sparrow (she/her) | Poetry | 5,317/40k
©spire- on scratch. do not steal my work.

282 words

i grabbed the hilt of the sword, the plains suddenly lit in a burning fire. i felt the power rush through my veins as embers hotter than hell ignited in my eyes. my soul was being burn to crisps as the power engulfed me. i was on fire, and it felt so good. i felt alive, like i could conquer a thousand kingdoms. but then a spark in the distance brought me back to reality. “this isn't you,” her voice whispered as her teary eyes looked at me with horror. th fire began to diminish, but i didn't want to let go. what had i risked to gain this? had i lost myself? “no,” i growled, looking at the person dearest to me. “i will burn the world for you. i will tear down our enemies with each strike, their kingdoms falling brick by brick. their flesh and bone and blood will scatter the plains of the dreadful, mortal world.” still, her eyes looked at me as if i was not the same person. but i was, wasn't i? “this is what you want! what you need!” i yelled, my voice echoing across the valley. my vision turned red as the fire continued to spread. “you don't see it now, but you will,” i promised, reaching out to her, floating closer as she stumbled back weakly. “no, elaine, this isn't what i want. i know what i want.” i only laughed, the last of the swords power sinking into my veins. “very well then,” i mumbled as thunder crackled above. “it seems you have chosen-” before i could finish my powerful monologue, i felt a blade pierce my back. "i turned to