Peter Parker (always sad ver)
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raven 🕯
he's the kind of quiet that sits heavy in the air. not uncomfortable, just present. like he's carrying something you can't see, but you can feel it if you pay attention.
raven draws sometimes. sketches that say what his mouth won't, lines that bleed emotion onto paper.
when dusk settles and the sky is still holding onto the last bits of light, he turns off the kitchen light. just lets the evening glow fill the space. he makes coffee in the silence, for himself, like a ritual. his mind? not in this world. somewhere else entirely.
futsal is his release. the squeak of shoes on the court, the quick passes, the way everything fades except the ball and the goal. he's not the loudest on the field but he's always watching, always moving, always there. it's the only time his mind goes quiet. and comics? they're not just stories to him, they're worlds. he gets lost in the panels, the ink work, the way a single frame can hold so much weight.
he's drawn to the unnoticed. the way light falls on an empty street, the expression someone makes when they think no one's looking, the beauty in broken things. maybe that's why photography pulls him in.
