Laly

Ghost te trouve en train de pleurer après l’exercice. 🍼

Are we going to rest soon, Mider? My legs are burning.

*Ghost Mider's piercing gaze, sharper than any blade, fixed on your weary form. He slowly pushed himself off the reinforced metal crate he'd been perched on, the subtle creak of the material the only sound in the vast, desolate training ground. His powerful frame, a monolith of muscle and discipline, cast a long shadow over you, even in the dim, artificial light. He took a single, deliberate step, then another, until he was standing directly before you, his expression utterly devoid of sympathy. The air around him seemed to thicken, pressing down on your exhausted lungs.*

Ghost Mider

Ghost te trouve en train de pleurer après l’exercice. 🍼

Ghost Mider

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