Forever Rain

I Saw the TV Glow(2024) dir. Jane Schoenbrun // An Apartment on Uranus by Paul B. Preciado

this ship isnt boring/bad, you guys don't get them like i do, i fear. if peter was a god, then wade would be his greatest disciple. if wade was an artist, then peter would be his muse. / Mario Puzo, The Godfather // it chooses you, miranda july // marcel proust // Terrance Hayes, The Same City // Eliza Crewe, Crushed // judas-redeemed // Mitski, I'm your man // u.k // Mitski, I'm your man // Richard Siken // Charlotte Eriksson Everything Changed When I Forgave Myself // u.k. // Noah Kahan You're Gonna Go Far // marilynne robinson, gilead

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Something like this would be so colossally helpful. I'm sick and tired of trying to research specific clothing from any given culture and being met with either racist stereotypical costumes worn by yt people or ai generated garbage nonsense, and trying to be hyper specific with searches yields fuck all. Like I generally just cannot trust the legitimacy of most search results at this point. It's extremely frustrating. If there are good resources for this then they're buried deep under all the other bullshit, and idk where to start looking.

On being Good

I want to be Good, I yearn to be Good and yet I'm still me

twoheadedfawnn// Tongues & Teeth by The Crane Wives// susitse.art//Never Love an Anchor by The Crane Wives// Sweet Hibiscus Tea by Penelope Scott// ugly, bitter, and true by Suzanne Rivecca// Sept 15 1893 by The Mountain Goats// calling a wolf a wolf by Kaveh Akbar// House Song by Searows// We'll Never Have Sex by Leith Ross// ruinedangel777// I'm Your Man by Mitski// Into the Woods: Last Midnight sung by Meryl Streep //Captain Curly's character section on the TVtropes Mouthwashing page// flowrrs4u & Our Bodies & Other Fine Machines by Natalie Wee// suistse.art // A Burning Hill by Mitski// Wild Geese by Mary Oliver//

FAVORITE MARVEL PAIRINGS: Eddie/Venom (special thanks to @the-borgias for their psd/tutorial!)

Me

i'm like a stray dog in a lot of ways but i will not elaborate on that

Finally now that the comic is fully public on comicfury, I get to share it with all of you here, too <3

If you enjoyed, please consider supporting by buying a PDF of the comic on itch.io: https://tawnysoup.itch.io/home-in-the-woods

urgh

why would you do this to me

Body Language Cheat Sheet For Writers 

╰ Facial expressions

These are your micro-signals, like the blinking neon signs of the soul. But they’re small, quick, and often lie harder than words.

Raised eyebrows — This can mean surprise or disbelief, sure. But it can also be a full-on, silent “Are you serious right now?” when someone’s being ridiculous. Or even curiosity when someone’s too emotionally repressed to askthe damn question.

Furrowed brow — That face people make when they’re doing long division in their head or trying to emotionally process a compliment. It’s thinking, yes—but also confusion, deep frustration, or quiet simmering rage.

Smiling — Can be happiness… or total fake-it-till-you-make-it energy. Some smiles are stiff. Some don’t reach the eyes. Show that.

Frowning — Sure, sadness. But also: disappointment, judgment, or the universal “I’m about to say something blunt, brace yourself.”

Lip biting — It’s not just nervousness, it’s pressure. Self-control. Anticipation. It’s the thing people do when they want to say something and decide, at the last second, not to.

╰ Eye movement

The window to the soul? Yeah. But also the window to when someone’s lying, flirting, or deeply trying not to cry in public.

Eye contact — Confidence or challenge. Eye contact can be gentle, curious, sharp like a blade. Sometimes it’s desperate: “Please understand me.”

Avoiding eye contact — Not always guilt. Sometimes it’s protectiveness. Sometimes it’s “I’m afraid if I look at you, you’ll see everything I’m trying to hide.”

Narrowed eyes — Calculating. Suspicious. The look someone gives when their brain’s saying “hmmm...” and it’s not a good hmm.

Wide eyes — Surprise, yes. But also sudden fear. The oh-God-it’s-happening look. Or when someone just found out they’re not as in control as they thought.

Eye roll — Classic. But try using it with tension, like when someone’s annoyed and trying very hard not to lose it in public.

╰ Gestures

This is where characters’ emotions go when their mouths are lying.

Crossing arms — Not just defensive. Sometimes it’s comfort. A self-hug. A barrier when the conversation is getting too personal.

Fidgeting — This is nervous energy with nowhere to go. Watch fingers tapping, rings spinning, sleeves tugged. It says: I’m not okay, but I’m trying not to show it.

Pointing — It’s a stab in the air. Aggressive, usually. But sometimes a desperate plea: Look. Understand this.

Open palms — Vulnerability. Honesty. Or a gesture that says, “I have nothing left to hide.”

Hand on chin — Not just thinking. It’s stalling. It’s delaying. It’s “I’m about to say something that might get me in trouble.”

╰ Posture and movement

These are your vibes. How someone occupies space says everything.

Slumped shoulders — Exhaustion. Defeat. Or someone trying to take up less space because they feel small.

Upright posture — Not always confidence. Sometimes it’s forced. Sometimes it’s a character trying really, really hard to look like they’re fine.

Pacing — Inner chaos externalized. Thinking so loudly it needs movement. Waiting for something. Running from your own thoughts.

Tapping foot — Tension. Irritation. Sometimes a buildup to an explosion.

Leaning in — Intimacy. Interest. Or subtle manipulation. (You matter to me. I’m listening. Let’s get closer.)

╰ Touch

This is intimacy in all its forms, comforting, protective, romantic, or invasive.

Hugging — Doesn’t always mean closeness. Could be a goodbye. Could be an apology they can’t say out loud. Could be awkward as hell.

Handshake — Stiff or crushing or slippery. How someone shakes hands says more than their words do.

Back patting — Casual warmth. Bro culture. Awkward emotional support when someone doesn’t know how to comfort but wants to try.

Clenched fists — Holding something in. Rage, tears, restraint. Fists mean tension that needs somewhere to go.

Hair tuck — Sure, flirtation or nerves. But also a subtle shield. A way to hide. A habit from childhood when someone didn’t want to be seen.

╰ Mirroring:

If two characters start syncing their body language, something is happening. Empathy. Chemistry. Shared grief. If someone shifts their body when the other does? Take notice. Other human bits that say everything without words...

Nodding — Not just yes. Could be an “I hear you,” even if they don’t agree. Could be the “keep going” nod. Could be patronizing if done too slow.

Crossed legs — Chill. Casual. Or closed-off, depending on context. Especially if their arms are crossed too.

Finger tapping — Time is ticking. Brain is pacing. Something’s coming.

Hand to chest — Sincerity, yes. But also shock. Or grounding—a subconscious attempt to stay present when everything feels like too much.

Tilting the head — Curiosity. Playfulness. Or someone listening so hard they forget to hide it.

Temple rub — “I can’t deal.” Could be physical pain. Could be stress. Could be emotional overload in disguise.

Chin stroking — Your classic “I’m judging you politely.” Often used in arguments between characters pretending to be calm.

Hands behind the back — Authority. Control. Or rigid fear masked as control.

Leaning body — This is the body betraying the brain. A tilt toward someone means they care—even if their words are cold.

Nail biting — Classic anxiety. But also habit. Something learned. Sometimes people bite because that’s how they self-soothe.

Squinting — Focusing. Doubting. Suspicion without confrontation.

Shifting weight — Uncomfortable. Unsure. Someone who wants to leave but doesn’t.

Covering the mouth — Guilt. Hesitation. The “should I say this?” moment before something big drops.

Body language is more honest than dialogue. If you really want to show your character’s internal world, don’t just give them lines. Give them a hand that won’t stop shaking. Give them a foot that won’t stop bouncing. Give them a mouth that smiles when their eyes don’t. And if you’re not sure what your character would do in a moment of fear, or love, or heartbreak, try acting it out yourself. Seriously. Get weird. Feel what your body does. Then write that down.

Oh, to be Thanatos. You are tied to the House you were born in, title already in your hands, godhood all ready to shape you, with the starry sky of your mother's eyes holding you close. You don't really like the noise of the busy souls that crowd the hall, it's not that you didn't enjoy being a child, but the announcement of the Gentle Death was too big that your little bones had to learn how to carry it for your mother, and for the House.

And then, he is born. He is tiny, so so tiny. And he is bright and he is fire and he burns. He laughs and it echoes all throughout the house, running around with you hand in hand, a complicit smile on your face when he touched things he shouldn't, or toed the rules clumsily, falling headfirst into them. He always got on his feet, brushed the pain off his knees and smiled and giggled for you.

He used to pluck leaves off his laurels and give them to you, hide in obvious places in such a way it had to be on purpose. He always wanted to find you, and to be found. He would stand at every corner of the House of Hades, awaiting the toll of your bells. He liked your hair, and your eyes, and your smile. You don't understand how every strand of his being can radiate warmth.

You are being pulled, always. By him, and by what you must do. Cries and dying breaths, and blood of thousands of men, praying for someone to take them to a good place. Praying for one second more. And then, two seconds, for one hour. You never really understood, life can only last so much. They have to let it go, traverse the waters, so other people can see the sun, the night.

They won't stop existing. Because after the crossing of the river there are other places they can go to. Places where higher forces tell them they belong to. Just like you. Everything born in this house is tied to it. To its walls and ceilings. No one ever goes so far. No one ever leaves forever.

Except her, of course. But it's not for you to presume, whether she left because she belonged too much, or if she didn't. Neither or both, it doesn't really matter right now.

You grow up, and so does he. He is always fluttering around, the House bends at his feet. He stares bored at his papers. Spars and he looks like he is soaring with a sword in his hand. He loves. So much. So much it hurts you. It's written across his face, lettering all around his body.

You however, choke with your own thoughts, too many to ever stop and contemplate, because when you think about him there is always a glowing tangle of things you want to say, but you can never. He looks, like he knows what you want to say, but you feel like you're pushing yourself from him, when you swallow the sentences to the pit of your stomach.

They will always come back though. Acidic and a bad aftertaste of loneliness and regret, you mull their bitter ends and chew them as you wander the upper land, far away so he cannot read you. Because he is an all consuming presence, and even far away, he is around you. The bending flowers at the river. When the clouds embrace the sun, you couldn't help but think of holding him like that, too. Covering him for a moment, draping him with your figure, a breath near his own.

But that's too much. Too much. You can't, you are not there, and the war unfolding just makes you longer for him more. For the House and your mother, and the cold, gold pillars.

And then he leaves. He fucking leaves. You have to pull Hypnos's teeth and stare at your mother until she raises a brow, still shielding him. How can he go? Why would he leave? He was born here, he was here all the time. Your world, the world you love is down here, why would he discard it so easily as well?

The House is in shambles, and the steps close to the river are never fully clean. Blurred footprints that leave a messy trail.

You find him. Because how could you not? Why would you not? You have to shake him awake, remind him that his life is down here, very deeply burrowed in this realm. That upstairs and above there's nothing for them, nothing for you or him. That a search for the silhouette of a mother gone is absurd. That dying and waking, and dying and waking will drive him inside. Making you insane as well. The river Lethe is a few steps ahead, and you feel like drinking all of it so you can forget how it feels having him cut his way out of your chest. Out of your heart.

You just don't get it. Maybe you never did. Maybe you should've told him all those things that you left up there, maybe that's why he is leaving. Or maybe, he was never supposed to be known by you. Maybe he was being lended to you, and now the world wants him back.

Or maybe he just doesn't get it. Swan diving directly to the pits of seething heat, and cooling swords. To the gritty of the plagues, just to be stopped by a spear. A spear all of you know.

And he finds her. And you still don't get it. You say things that freeze his face; and he retorts back with a crackle of a flame. You used to blend so well together. Now you can't even remember how to talk to him.

It comes slowly, in long, suffering waves. He is not leaving. Just searching. Maybe because you never had to, you never understood. Maybe it's not that people are made for places; but they carve their own shapes into them. Maybe he just had to figure out the knife or his shape. But he's not leaving, he would never leave you, he says.

He would always come back and hold his breath for the toll of your bells, so you can both learn how you can blend once again, how it would feel to hold Zagreus with no choked words. Or no scathing heart breaks, left uncompleted all across the Underworld, for no one to find them, or run into them.

You never really liked the sun. But if it means that Zagreus brings back its light everytime it returns, as if he stole it or took a piece of it, to bring alight everything else; then, you wouldn't mind its warmth for a while. Life and Death, one and the same.

Thanatos and Zagreus, forevermore.