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emmielynn · 3 years
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He hadn’t spent a lot of time out of the suit. He figured if he was going to die, he’d die doing what he loved, protecting the city he loved. Whether it was a gunshot, or his body collapsing, he felt himself looking toward to the end.
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emmielynn · 3 years
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Writing Prompt:
Part of him wanted to apologize each time his fist slammed into his opponent, but the other part wanted to keep fighting. As he slammed his fist back into punching bag the alarm on his little mouse timer went off. It was time to get ready.
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emmielynn · 3 years
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TW: Self Harm
He had always loved hoodies that sleeves were so long that they went far past his hands. It was just a bonus that his hands were always covered. Shielding May from the bloody and bruised knuckles. He knew it would break her heart, and that woman had enough heartbreak already. Sometimes Peter would just stare at his knuckles as if they were works of art. He knew they weren’t and he knew this wasn’t healthy. But he was a super-healing mutant, and the marks would fade quicker than any normal person. So as he tracked his way back to the gym with clean knuckles covered by unbroken skin. It was time to paint the punching bag.
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emmielynn · 3 years
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Writing Prompt: The last thing he expected when he hid underneath a dumpster, was for someone to land on top of it.
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emmielynn · 3 years
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Writing my first Marvel FanFiction and I have no idea what I’m doing... I’m going to get roasted by the fandom
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