shelly james


so bright the sun is ashamed to rise and be


about

26
they/click da link
lesbian
witch
writer
artist
dust punk
sanguine
soup, perhaps?


BYF

Ask to follow…
If you:
Know me IRL
Have things you need tagged
Do not follow…
If you:
match like. basic left dni criteria
are a capitalist/bootlicker
are a fujoshi
ship minorXadult ships or incest ships
are a terf/transphobe
think that any of that is okay


interests

Yu-Gi-Oh! DM & Season 0
My Chemical Romance
Neon Genesis Evangelion
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure
Junji Ito / Uzumaki
Chronicles of Narnia
Sonic the Hedgehog
Hatsune Miku/Vocaloids
Puppets/Jim Henson
Cowboy Bebop
FMA (03 & Brotherhood)
Princess Peach
Kids on the Slope
Cats the Musical
Death Note
Pokemon
Lupin the III
Mob Psycho 100
Ouran High School Host Club
Tiger & Bunny
Scenecore/Emocore
Theology & Angelology (ask for the url to my religion blog if u want)

beat me to death


High Kins / ID’s
Shinji Ikari (evangelion)
Ryou Bakura (yugioh duel monsters/season 0)
Miles “Tails” Prower (sonic the hedgehog)
Misa Amane (death note)
Stephen Levine (OC)
Medium Kins
Kaoru Nishimi (kids on the slope)
Katsuya Jounouchi (yugioh duel monsters/season 0)
Peten the Dark Clown (yugioh tcg/duel monsters)
Caesar Zeppeli (jojo's bizzare adventure battle tendency)
The Groom (demolition lovers/three cheers for sweet revenge)
Max (maximum ride)
Wally (pokemon ruby)
Rian (dark crystal: aor)
Ezra (OC)
Low Kins
K Tanaka (misfits and magic)
Shuichi Saito (uzumaki)
Lucy Pevensie (chronicles of narnia)
Etcetera (cats the musical)
Yuuri Katsuki (yuri on ice)
Echoes (jojos bizzare adventure diamond is unbreakable)
Daisuke Jigen (lupin the third)
Sachio (megalobox)
Otherkins
Borrower
Ghost

Comfort Characters


Kaworu Nagisa (evangelion)
Kaoru Nishimi and Sentaro Kawabuchi and Ritsuko Mukae (kids on the slope)
Yuugi Mutou (yugioh duel monsters/season 0)
Pete the Cat (yes that one)
Dark Magician Girl (yugioh duel monsters/tcg)
Joseph Joestar (jojo’s bizzare adventure battle tendency)
Koichi Hirose (jojo's bizzare adventure diamond is unbreakable)
Lupin, Jigen, Goemon, and Fujiko (Lupin the Third)
Aslan (chronicles of narnia)
Reepicheep (chronicles of narnia)
Rum Tum Tugger (cats the musical)
Sonic the Hedgehog and Miles “Tails” Prower (sonic)
Basically the entire cast of gelflings from Dark Crystal (dark crystal)
Jim Hawkins (treasure planet)
Princess Peach (super mario)
Shiny Altaria (pokemon)
Shiny Mew (pokemon)
Tiger and Bunny (tiger & bunny)
Elric Brothers, Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye (FMA)
The Entire Host Club (ouran)
Toph Beifong (atla)
Goat House Squad (misfits and magic)
Hatsune Miku (vocaloid)
Wakko, Yakko, and Dot (animaniacs)
Stephen Levine (OC)
Victor Bouvier (OC)

Hannah

🖤 7.21.22 🖤


I’ve said for years that I cannot
write a love poem. The reason’s never
been consistent, but I’ve always had one.
After a decade of, “I just hate love
poems,” or, “I’m just not the type
to write them,” or, “I can't get the words
out right,” I finally decided to give it a try.
It was… fine. An alright attempt, whatever.
It was, to me, enough to write it off
from my list of Poet Must-Do’s. Actually,
I tried out a couple more over
the following years, but… I admit
I never actually wrote a love poem Proper.
All of my past poems were certainly about
some type of love — the love
in my imagination. The love I yearned for
and anticipated under the drunken waves
of a romance’s first saccharine months.
Those verses lacked any mention
of my lovers themselves. Each line danced
around detail, exhaled vague descriptions
that I could always subtly shift in seconds
to apply to any lover that might bring
plastic phosphorescent stars to my eyes.
I could be impossible to satisfy. Maybe
I demand too much from a partner.
They might all be wrong, maybe I do
just have to settle. Love could just not be
what everyone’s got it cracked up to be.
The lyrics and films and poets that caterwaul
tribute to paramour in white could all be
lying, exaggerating how right it should feel.
I am damned to be left wanting. I’ll forever
have to choose between a girlfriend that can't
agree on a future, or a girlfriend I just have to
get used to being hurt by. I’ll either get
the passion and thrill and desire, or I get
respect and the promise they won't put
their hands on me if we fight. I do not get
both. Learn how to just be happy
that anyone wants you at all. I can't write
a real love poem because it might
remind me of its muse.
I once thought memory a burden. I’ve prayed
to forget the details of those I face during
intrusive daydreams — nostalgic flashbacks.
When I cut my eggnog with milk, reference
scenes from It’s Always Sunny, catch myself
singing along to the chorus of a specific song
I belted between giggles in the car — the lyrics
now taste like green pennies, draw blood
from my tongue with blade edges. I heard
the thunder of my Lion’s purr drown the loop
of those few lines from my thoughts
through the inky shroud of night, but still
felt the phantom pull on my bones
for anyone’s weight to keep me in bed.
God, I thank You for the blessing of recall,
which brought this dear gift from my beloved
to me. I think I only mentioned my Lion
maybe twice before I saw this figure, and yet
I found care so thoughtful, so devoted,
so featherlight and yet never lacking
in gravity, kneaded and pressed
and sculpted into a lion of polymer clay.
Barely over an inch tall, weighing more
than the sum of every promise I’d been given.
I knew immediately what to do with this lion.
He sits on my altar, a permanent feature.
Every morning, I place his golden crown
upon his head to call my Lion, gift from
my dear Holy Mother, to guard.
Before bed, I remove his crown in thanks
for His protection, let it sit beside him
on the bed of rabbit’s fur so He can rest.
His shaggy pick-etched mane, wonky legs,
and ill-fitting crown painted with gold
shimmer nail polish are a far cry from
his subject’s true visage. But the kind
concern in his eyes, I recognized instantly,
and it left me completely incapable
of biting back tears. You, with regard
that mirrors that in the lion’s clay brows,
asked me not to cry, but my love,
I weep for the bloom in my chest. The deep
hollow that used to echo bitter, spited mutters
of yearning is suddenly brimming, bursting,
overflowing and spilling out unprecedented
hope for a life I never thought possible. The salt
of these tears is not bitter, but instead is
the taste of what measure the oceans promise
upon that first swell of coastal air as we crest
the western range. Such is what I pray
our future holds. And should diabola
ex machina desert me from you, I will gladly
bear the sorrow these lines bring,
lose my breath for the ache as I move
the crown of the lion on my altar,
for your memory, beloved, will be worth it.


I hope we made the same wish

Long before I understood the weight
of the words pooling in my lap from
the pulpit, I was told stories of stones
that shone with holy light. A faithful brother
never written of by name, asked God
to provide his family with sight within the bellies
of their boats without flame. God reached
a hand below the heavens and touched
each stone the man had brought, blessed
the smooth glassy gems with an anointing
finger to be as the stars. The man cowered,
fell to the dirt and choked on his shock
at the sight, that his God was flesh and bone.
Several years later, I stared down at a stone
that shone steady and bright in a calloused,
pale hand. Its glow glittered like gold
tinsel in her hair as she offered it to me,
arm outstretched. My knees found the earth,
my hands found each other. When she leaned
forward, lowered herself toward me, my head
swam in the scents of sweet perfumes and
skunkish herb. She eased my chin up with
a guiding touch and pressed her thumb between
my lips to part my teeth, open the tomb
of my mouth. A kid catching snowflakes in
the advent, I extended an eager tongue,
anticipating the taste of Heaven. The light
came at me like the sun. It felt just the same
in my mouth with its serpent hiss against
my flesh. My cry was sealed within my throat
and made silent.
I crawled in the dirt for escape, spitting up
blood and puss from the blisters that burst
in my cheeks. My nose pinched at the taste.
I gasped in the winter air in attempt to use
the chill to ease the burn that lingered long
after the nickel seared my lips. The meat
of my mouth was raw, cried for the mercy
of water. If not for my wounds, I would have
begged the desert sky for snow. The dust
instead offered a hazy silhouette. Hesitation
held me back for a moment, but the possibility
of relief from my burns drove me forward.
They could have water. They could know where
the mirages’ lies end. With the last of my
strength, I ran to the stranger and collapsed
at her feet. Weary grip on her ankles, I sobbed
over her shoes, the few tears my body could
create soaking into the canvas. I prayed
she would understand what I needed despite
not hearing words from my blistered mouth.
Hope grew in my chest as a gentle, guiding hand
cradled my cheek to coax my gaze toward her.
The dark chocolate brown of her eyes
blanketed me in soft warmth. The constellations
of freckles across her cheeks prophesied
comfort and peace. Ignoring the punishing strain,
I smiled with relief. She reached her hand out
and called upon the heavens to summon
a star. The sky opened up, sent one of its gems
to fall — drift down as a feather into the bed
of her palm. At the sight of the jewel and its
earnest light, the look of urging she gave
as she touched the stone to my lips, I was taken
with a wave of terror. I trembled against
the ground, tried to blend into the dust and rock.
The blisters in my mouth recalled the searing
sting of the white metal as if it was still on
my tongue. I wailed and cried like my voice alone
could drive away the blinding glow. My body
winced at the stranger’s touch, soft on my head.
She whispered as she carded fingers through
my hair, soaking quiet prayers into the curls.
Over hours, my pitiful sobs hushed so I could
hear the words in her breath. She promised
rest, spoke of healing and soft pillows and
dreams between warm meals. With her
lulling voice and her hands in my hair, I could
have drifted into sleep right there. She stroked
my cheek as she swore I could have as many
stars as I desired, and pressed the shining
gem to my lips again. Despite the tears
that escaped me and the doubt that I
deserved such pleasure, I forced myself
to open up. The glow disappeared behind
my teeth. My mouth filled with cool air
that soothed my wounds, and my body
buzzed with warmth as I swallowed. Her
star’s divine light swelled and soaked into
every inch of my flesh to heal my weary
bones, seal the sores on my cheeks
and my tongue, fill my blood with a surge of life
so I could find the strength to stand.
My eyes, now clear, became level with hers.

pronouns

he/him AND she/her with EQUAL FREQUENCY

(if you find yourself favoring one binary over the other either default to they/them exclusively or make a better effort.)

song recs

the innocence of - royal coda
it's gonna be a long night - ween
my way home is through you - my chemical romance
bite your teeth - poppy
i am going to kill the president of the united states - leathermouth
the world ends with you - newgrounds death rugby
black me out - against me!
lake pontchartrain - ludo
bedroom community - glass beach
my girlfriend's boots - it'll grow back
dead of the night - drac and the swamp rats
what's up people - maximum the hormone
haze (hvn) - guerrilla warfare
witch - fatty cakes and the puff pastries
planet unicorn - mantis watch
wet hot american bummer - thanks! i hate it
peyotl - blk sage
hellhound on my trail - robert johnson

movie recs

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