#james steerforth

[johbeil]

From the life of Ilion Tusk, Space Crusader

I’m happy and honored to report that my 42-word story From the life of Ilion Tusk, Space Crusader – a thinly veiled allusion to a well-known real-life figure –, is part of the anthology Book of 42² published in November of 2024. The anthology was compiled by B. A. Mullin and comprises 1764 ultrashort stories in 42 genres, such as Alternate Reality, Apocalyptic, Crime, Culture, Romance, Steampunk,…

[romangoldendream]

[great-ex-side-blog-else]

All sorts of tables

[besotted-with-austen]

James Steerforth: *dismissive* oh, Miss Dartle’s scar? Yeah, I threw a hammer at her years ago-what can I say, I was pretty annoyed at her that day!

David Copperfield: *benevolently* what a peculiar guy you are!

James Steerforth: *gets the kindest teacher at school fired because he is poor and he had a disagreement with him*

David Copperfield: Steerforth has such a strong character, he never backs down from challenging authority! Man, pity that Mr Mell had to resign!

Agnes Wickfield, literally David’s moral compass: Trotwood, that guy is a bad friend to have.

David Copperfield: what? Noooo, he is Steerforth! He is my best friend, that’s the way he is!

[aneurinallday]

The Tragedy of James Steerforth

Chapter III: The Calm Between Storms

Steerforth wasn’t sure how long he wandered, nor how far. The coastline seemed to go on forever. He was treading on grey pebbles of all shapes and sizes, worn smooth by the tide. Occasionally, a small crab camouflaged against the stones would reveal itself by moving. He spotted the discarded exoskeleton of one - tiny, fragile, and as white as porcelain, perfectly preserving the shape of the creature that had worn it. When he tried to pick it up, it broke in his hands.

Mindlessly, he started to collect pretty shells, admiring their beautiful designs, then tossing them away again. His guilt was unbearable. He tried not to think about his mother, about his former friends, about anything. By the time he stopped, the sun was high overhead, peeping through dense clouds. He was desperately thirsty, but he knew better than to drink the saltwater.

It was low tide, and the sea had drawn back to reveal its hidden treasures - shells, bits of rotting wood, rusty metal, and translucent blobs which he realised were dead jellyfish. In another universe - a universe where Ham was unkind - Steerforth’s body would’ve washed up here, just like these jellyfish.

He watched the relentless, repetitive wash of the waves against the shore. They seemed to call out to him. He took off his knee-high leather boots and wet socks, and held them in his hands, and continued barefoot. The rocks and debris hurt his feet, but he didn’t care. He walked down to meet the swell, and stood at its edge, letting the white froth flow past his legs. In and out the waves came, in and out.

As he watched the sea dance to and fro, just as it had for many millennia, he considered the pointlessness of his own brief existence.

What had the great James Steerforth ever truly accomplished? What had he ever done that was worthy of remembrance?

Perhaps he should’ve stayed on the sinking boat. Perhaps he should’ve refused to be rescued. Perhaps he should’ve simpy let go of the rigging and let the waves claim him.

Even now, the option still presented itself. All he had to do was walk forward until there was no longer earth under his feet, and surrender to the currents, and he would be forever free. Free from his shame, free from his remorse, and free from the listless ennui that had tormented him for his whole life.

For as long as he could remember, he’d felt empty and lost. Despite his large fortune and Highgate mansion and doting mother, and despite the gregarious and cheerful face he presented to the world, true happiness had always eluded him. His entire existence until Yarmouth had been one of meaningless luxury without hardship, without challenge, and without direction. From the moment of his birth, his destiny had already been decided for him, and he’d had no say in what he would become. He’d never quite known who he was, or why he was here, or what he was supposed to be doing - the bored angst of a rich young man who had everything in life except a purpose.

He’d thought that his fling with Emily would bring him some excitement, maybe even a fresh start in life, but instead it had brought him only regret - the realisation that he’d ruined the poor girl’s reputation - causing him to abruptly leave her in the middle of their escapade.

And now he was faced by the ultimate question - the final question. Whether to choose life or death.

In front of him lay the sea, beckoning him with its promise of escape. But behind him lay human civilisation, luring him with its many joys and miseries and chances and vices. Death meant freedom, but life meant pain. Pain for himself, pain for the people he would wrong…and most importantly, pain for the people who’d wronged him.

After a few minutes more, Steerforth ceased his meditation. He turned his back on the sea and began to walk.

He was holding his water-filled boots in his hands, and limping. He had no hat, no cane, no luggage - just the clothes on his back and a seething, burning hatred in his heart.

Finally, after a lifetime of searching, he’d found his goal.

He would rise from the dead - well, perhaps nothing that dramatic, but he would rise from his ignominy and reclaim his lost pride.

He would return to London.

He would be James Steerforth again.

And he would ruin David Copperfield.

Chapter IV: Old Friends

[hoyanes]

ok so we've had a lot of aus in mind and these are old sketches of the sorcerer one

and the modern one (ft Steerforth)

[mxcottonsocks]

Chapter 29 of David Copperfield is so funny. So Steerforth has told his mother that he can't visit more often because he's too busy staying with David (less than 10 miles away) and, what, attending his job with him??

If I were Rosa, I would also be asking questions...

[kittyissorad]

[incorrectclassicbookquotes]

David Copperfield, lounging on a couch in a seductive position: Do you know why I called you in here?

James Steerforth: Because I accidentally sent you a dick pick.

David Copperfield, sitting up: Accidentally?!

[thisbluespirit]

Jacqueline Pearce as Rosa Dartle in Episode 3 of David Copperfield (BBC 1974).

[johbeil]

Death of an Unnamed Agent

A much accelerated spy thriller Up until a few weeks ago I worked a mission in an unnamed African country, which is known for its divisiveness and long history of internal and external conflict, with the goal of making useful acquaintances. Useful in the eyes of the unnamed agency that was my employer and its unnamed affiliate agencies. Then I was recalled to the unnamed local office in the…

[iliveinyourwalls68]

Is it just me or does David seem more in love with Steerforth than any of his other love interests-

[great-ex-side-blog-else]

1-4 witch au

and other modern au ( david x uriah / steerforth x uriah)

[creatediana]

"Ekphrasis on Rereading David Copperfield" - a poem written 12/22/2023

[aneurinallday]

The Tragedy of James Steerforth

Chapter II: The Beach

Steerforth awoke to a blue dawn and the feeling of hard, uneven rocks underneath him. The storm had lifted and the rain had stopped, though the sky remained overcast. He was lying on his side on the pebble beach, surrounded by a throng of people - the Peggotty family, David Copperfield, his mother. Their faces were full of worry. Worry for whom? For him? Surely not. He’d ruined their lives by seducing Emily. Why on earth would they be worried about his wellbeing?

“My boy! My beautiful boy!” The usually haughty and imperious Mrs Steerforth was fretting over him, her black-gloved hands clutching at his arm, touching his wet face. “My sweet James! You’re alive!”

Steerforth swatted her away and sat up. He looked out to sea, but there was no sign of his boat - it had disappeared completely beneath the water.

“Are you alright?” David knelt beside him, tears in his eyes. “My friend, are you alright?”

Steerforth didn’t reply. As he looked around at their gawking faces, he felt a swirl of emotions. Guilt. Resentment. Gratitude. Embarrassment. He was a high-born gentleman, the son of a lady; and yet here he was, the object of pity, being looked down on by these servants and orphans. In their eyes, he must’ve seemed pathetic.

His cheeks burned with humiliation, which swiftly turned to anger. His pride fought his conscience, and his pride won. 

He struggled to his feet. His hair was bedraggled, his fine clothes heavy with seawater. He felt certain that he must look like a drowned rat.

“This is your fault, Copperfield,” he spat, “You brought me here to this accursed place, and got me involved with these wretched people. You introduced me to that silly wench and her half-wit fiancé. And now look what’s happened - I could’ve died!”

“You can’t possibly blame me for this,” David protested, “I brought you here to meet my friends. You ran off with Emily, and decided to sail back in the middle of a storm! How is that my fault?”

“I almost drowned because of you!”

“Shut up, Steerforth!” Ham interrupted, “Davy’s not to blame for anything. He’s never done anything but be a good friend to you - not that you deserve it. It was your own stupidity that almost got you killed.”

Steerforth’s mother spun around to glare at him.

“Don’t you dare speak to my James that way!”

“Be quiet, Mother,” said Steerforth, his stomach shrinking with embarrassment. “For once in your life, be quiet.”

Emily had fallen to her knees nearby.

“James!” she cried, “I’m so glad you’re alright. Despite what’s happened, I would never - I would never want anything bad to happen to you.”

“Spare me the performance,” Steerforth said. “I bet you’ve been saying all sorts of things about me, haven’t you?”

“No, I haven’t,” Emily protested, “I told them nothing but the truth - that you took me on a wonderful adventure and then left me. That I had to make my way back to England without you. But I never blamed you, not even once.”

She reached out for an embrace.

“Please, James. Let’s be kind to each other. We can be kind without being in love, can’t we?”

“Love,” Steerforth scoffed, “As if I ever loved you. As if anyone could ever - ”

“Enough!” Ham shouted, taking an angry step towards him. “You can’t speak to her like that! She deserves better. Better than you, better than me. You’ve got no right - ”

“How would you know what she deserves? Has she ever told you what’s in her heart? Has she ever confided in you?” Steerforth demanded, “She never loved you, Ham Peggotty. She never wanted you. Why do you think she jumped at the first chance of a better life - at the first gentleman to give her attention?”

“I might not be a gentleman, but I am a man, which is more than you can say,” Ham snapped, “She was my girl! You stole her from me, you strung her along, and then you abandoned her in the middle of a strange country. She had to find her own way home, by herself, in disgrace! What kind of man does that?”

“I didn’t steal her. She ran away with me. She chose me over you. And who could blame her? Look at what you’re offering!”

“You snake. I saved your life!”

“And what do you want for it? My gratitude? You expect me to grovel to a fisherman’s brat?”

“Please stop,” David interjected, placing his body between them as a shield. “This isn’t the time to quarrel. Let’s all go inside, where it’s warm and dry. Let’s share a drink. That’ll make everyone feel better.”

“Better for whom?” Steerforth snapped, “Certainly not for me. You can’t fix everything with saccharine platitudes, Daisy.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t want your help. I’m done with it - with you. I’m done with your stupid friends and your stupid Yarmouth and your stupid face!”

“My precious boy!” His weeping mother tried to put her arms around him, but he pushed her off.

“Get away from me, you idiot. I hate you. I’ve always hated you. I promise, after today, you’ll never see me again!”

Watching the scene unfold with crossed arms, Mr Peggotty made a noise of disgust.

“Is there nobody in your life that you care about, Steerforth?” he said, shaking his head. “Is there nobody that you love more than yourself?”

“Please, everybody calm down,” said David, but Steerforth ignored him.

He needed to get away from this place - away from these people and their insufferable compassion. He needed to be alone.

“I curse all of you! I curse this whole ridiculous circus!”

While his mother wept, Steerforth stumbled away down the beach. She started to hurry after him, but was restrained.

“Let him go, Mrs Steerforth. Let him go. He wants to be alone.”

“I wish you nothing but the worst!” Steerforth yelled over his shoulder.

His mother collapsed on the ground, mourning the departure of her pride and joy. Agnes Wickfield and Mrs Peggotty tried to console her.

“There, there, Mrs Steerforth,” Mrs Peggotty patted her shoulder. “He don’t mean it. I’m sure he don’t mean it.”

Chapter III: The Calm Between Storms

[incorrectclassicbookquotes]

James Steerforth: Look, do I consider myself attractive? Yes. But would I have sex with my clone? Also yes.