#re:james

[beneath-the-null-moon]

"I'm not like you"

From commentary 4:

Re:James seeing himself in the mirror: In the video, I say that he may be able to see himself because Angela, also a real person, is in the room with him. Silent Hill has given him hints now and then that it's not the real world, but maybe the two of them being in the room together has created a sort of... reality bubble?  After I recorded this, Ian and I were talking about why the scene might be staged with a huge mirror like this. Talking it out, my answer was that Angela is willing to handle that knife, which she may have killed her father with, and look at it freely in the mirror; James says, "I'm not like you." Angela looks directly at both James (who is standing behind her) and herself in the mirror; James only looks down at her, refusing to look either Angela or himself in the eye. She's able to admit that she's done something wrong ("I've been bad!"); James is so far in denial that he can't remember he did anything at all. He's allowed to see himself in this mirror—honestly, so the game can have some really striking imagery, but perhaps also to show us that when James can look at himself, he doesn't want to. 

[theinversion]

Also re:James Dean - Rebel Without a Cause is such a gay movie. Even though they couldn't be overt about it the subtext is so strong. I'm sure any gay or bi teenage boy in 1950s would have picked up on the sexual tension there.

Art Garfunkel isn’t real what the fuck

Love affair, calling paul “damn good” and referring to himself as a midwife to deliver Paul’s song babies is just a coming out confession in its self

[lola-rai]

Closed starter for @swearonstars​ - James

Lola lay in her hospital bed, having resigned herself to staring up at the ceiling. It wasn’t as stimulating as daytime television but also not as vapid. Perhaps because of her bored stiff state she felt attention on her. She turned her head, spotting James Binici standing in the doorway. “Oh goodie you’ve come to haunt me. I’m honored. Or did you make it out of that corn maze alive after all?”

[dreams-of-a-lark]

Date: ~ a week post-power surge Time: Midday Location: West Cove Closed Starter: BRÖTHER (@j-crain​)

☁︎︎☽☀︎︎☾☁︎︎

It was a cruel irony that, after years of trying to learn how to fly, it would only come to Lark after the horrible ordeal of watching the person who mattered most to him get violently ripped away. In and by the very jungle they spent so much of their time in, no less. The stress of the aftermath and the lingering heightened abilities were what compelled him toward the cliffs of the west cove today.

As time passed he’d noticed the surge of power abate. While he could no longer fly per se, his control over floating was still enhanced and he was going to take advantage of it while he still could. Maybe it would help get his mind off things for a little while. If nothing else, at least the ocean mist in his face would be refreshing.

Taking a running start he leapt, unflinchingly off the cliff face. As he did so, the air caught and cradled him like a feather with little to no effort. Where the haphazard flight back in the jungle had been horrifying, this was exhilarating, a complete trust in his element to cooperate. A perfect balance he wished, but doubted he could maintain forever. He shifted his body to guide himself to the shore instead of the water, but as he turned toward the beach he saw a figure waiting at the base of the cliff.

The figure was familiar, but not from here, not even from New York. Impossible, he thought as he drifted down to meet them. But, drawing nearer, that face was unmistakable. Was this another trick of the island? As if he hadn’t been through enough. Was he hallucinating again?

The wind laid him gently down in the sand a few yards away and he hesitantly approached the spectre of his bröther. “Let me guess, the island’s playing mind games again, that it? You look like my brother, but that’s not…” he discarded the thought, “So who are you really? Iyaz maybe? The island would make him look like James just to fuck with both of us, wouldn’t it? Balance the scales or whatever. Right then, care to enlighten me?”

[sassyfrassboss]

Sorry i am mixing up where i heard/read this but wasn’t there a story that Meghan tried to make a pass on one of David Foster’s older wealthy friends and was rejected? So the asking Mariah Carey re:James Packer has some merit lol.

I thought it was she made a pass at David himself.

[will-o-the-witch]

Re:James Randi, he was more in the stage magician world, trying to be more a Houdini-style debunker than a practitioner of ritual magic or anything he went after people like uri geller and was he was mad about all the fraudulent/predatory tv psychics and faith healers in the 80’s. A bit too evangelical atheist for my taste but he was good at showing people how to spot a lot of deceptions and tricks and generally made a fun spectacle of it. idk I liked him back in the day.

Ah ok, very interesting! I can definitely agree with him about predatory TV "mediums" and televangelists for sure. I do find seeing stage magician tricks unpacked and explained really interesting though! (I used to be able to do the Criss Angel coin in a soda can trick pretty well)

[firefeufuego]

Look, you’re talking about the fandom of a ship, I’m not sure why you’re surprised—or indeed apparently disappointed—that it’s dominated by the genre of romance. It’s hardly alone.

I doubt any amount of chapter and verse litigation is going to persuade either of us about what counts as canonically valid re:James’ characterisation, so lets save ourselves the trouble—although I will say the notion of character growth as ‘flattening’ saddens me quite deeply. As I have been saying, you are absolutely free to write darker versions of James’ character. I would appreciate it if you stayed away from themes like fascism, child sex abuse, and domestic violence, because I really don’t think they can be explored in a safe way in this medium. Given that you would be using characters that readers come to your work already familiar with and fond of, I think you risk the romanticisation and fetishisation that I’ve described above, even if you avoided romantic tropes.

I honestly have no idea what Jily fic you’ve been reading to say that she needs to be fleshed out more within our fandom. Perhaps by ‘fleshed out’, you just mean sadder or more abused or in some way darker, because apparently that’s what it takes to be well-rounded. I could list author after author who breathe such life into her character without feeling the need to punish her. But if that’s story you want to tell, and you tag it appropriately and stay away from the 50 Shades/Twilight/Gossip Girl pitfalls of romanticising abusive, toxic relationships, then again, you are ‘allowed’ to do so.

Honestly, have I no idea what kind of story you are arguing for here, given the wildly apples to oranges examples you originally gave and the extremely problematic so-called ‘Dark James’ fics (Romantic stories with Death Eater James) we already have in this fandom. I suppose just consider how triggering and painful the themes you’re exploring are, how well you know the subject and how much research you’re willing to do, what the internal and external power dynamics are (i.e. are you writing Oppressed/Oppressor tropes?), and how likely your audience is to minimise the harm caused by the perpetrator in the pursuit of romantic or sexual satisfaction.

And after all that, if people decide that your depiction of James is so incompatible with their understanding of him and don’t want to read your work, that is also their prerogative. and they’re not being uncritical, or disengaged, or shallow readers. By your own admission, you won’t be writing a truth they’re ignoring, but your own version with which they are free to disagree. Still, good luck!

The Case for Dark!James fics in the Jily fandom

Having so little information on canon Lily and James has given us this great opportunity to write so much on this pair. One of the most dynamic scenes we’re given is the scene by the lake in 5th year. From this short scene by the lake, Harry had to negotiate the complexity of James’s and Lily’s identities and relationship. It was a moment where Harry had to accept his dad as a complex person, no longer all-good but flawed. He had to face the fact that his parents’ relationship as layered. He had to grow up.

James behaviour from this scene has spawned the foundations of many jily fanfics. The Lake scene is used as a plot point, it is part of a character arc, it is a defining moment. I have enjoyed all the fics immensely, especially because I want there to be resolution and catharsis. (I mean I ship Jily, right?). But I have always been quite surprised at how many fics excuse the seriousness of James’s actions at the lake. His behaviour is often fed into his bad-boy/arrogant/rule-bending personality traits that fades even more when he begins to develop a closer relationship with Lily.

The fact is that James bullied a student that did not fit in “he was always a weirdo”, James picked on the student unprovoked, “it’s more that he just exists.” James used the victim’s own spells on him to torment him. James threatened to undress him in front of all his peers. James may have actually forced off Snape’s pants (“but Harry didn’t get to find out…”). That’s sexual harassment. That is malicious. That comes from a position of privilege over the victim. That’s dark man. He had a nickname that belittled the person and it was familiarised because it wasn’t the first time he bullied him.

It’s easier and cleaner and prettier to simplify the events of the lake. It is preferable to frame his behaviour in ways that makes it forgivable. Like children we hope James is actually the good guy.

But exploring the darker side of James, finding discomfort in a person you both love and who does bad things is a far more ambitious, compelling and complex story to tell. It requires insight, paradoxes and hard truths. It’s why we have films like The Reader (based on a book by Bernhard Schlink) and literature like Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov (and why only very talented writers should attempt to tell these stories). Dark!James is a valuable endeavour for writers and readers.

[lostboycharlie-blog]

Fuck. I need to be better at this. I know I can be better at this. I don't want to disappoint him.

[lostboycharlie-blog]

No. No, fuck you. 

[lostboycharlie-blog]

Right, well, if he doesn't try to contact me, I'm just going to pretend he's not even here.

[dreams-of-a-lark]

j-crain​:

✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶

This illusion– this torture, whatever it was, sure was accurate. One moment Lark was fussing and the next he was practically cracking jokes– calling him rude of all things. Appearing out of nowhere after dying tragically was rude. James still wasn’t sure what was going on but it seemed Lark– not Lark, was just as confused as he was. That was comforting. Even the illusions sent to torture him were lost. Maybe that was it. They were both just lost souls now– in limbo as the figure in the form of his brother had offered as an explanation. 

The lost soul continued to speak, telling him his body was here– right in front of him. James touched his own chest, placing his hand firm against where his heart rested. He could feel it beating. Not faintly either, if anything his heart rate was elevated– likely due to the terror in front of him. Even if not for the odd circumstances, speaking to Lark always put James a little on edge. He never knew how the conversation would go. Polite but distant like two strangers, intimate and cutting the types of conversations siblings were bound to have as adults looking back, or would Lark snap at him leaving James the emotionless machine just waiting for the fit to ride out. 

Lark’s voice was dripping with emotion. James felt a pang in his heart, not so much from the words Lark spoke but from the familiarity of it. Lark was an open person, a bird set free from its cage and up and out in the air. While James stayed captive for the sake of his owner and watched from the earth. In the past, when Lark would open up or show a side of him that perhaps he should have kept private, James couldn’t help but feel jealous. Now though, now he was just intrigued… wondering now what is was this spirit wanted.  

Lark was stuttering now, short-circuiting almost. James just blinked, not sure what to make of all this. Next thing he knew Lark had him in a hug and that’s when it hit him. This was not a spirit or shade, not a lost soul, not not-Lark. It was him. His older brother, back from the dead– if he’d ever been dead at all. Though his arms hung in the air awkwardly for a moment, James quickly reciprocated the hug. Pulling his brother close, resting his chin on his shoulder and clinging to him. “I… I don’t know what to say,” James murmured. 

He pulled out of the hug though his hands still rested on his brother’s shoulders. “It sounds like we both have a lot of questions. But it also sounds like there aren’t a lot of clear cut answers,” he raised a brow as if asking if that were the case. “But… I am happy to see you. Happy to know I’m not in this alone…” He looked his brother up and down, tilting his head to the side. “Are you sure you aren’t dead? Because you look it.” Small cuts and bruises were all over his body and his brother seemed weighed down by something. Perhaps just by the island itself.

☁︎︎☽☀︎︎☾☁︎︎

James seemed dazed at first, not quite in the mindset to believe his surroundings. He looked out of place too, as all islanders did when they first arrived. Hell, Lark himself washed up in a fucking three piece suit. He still kept it back in his hut, at the bottom of his makeshift trunk… as a reminder of that last day and the alternate timeline that could have been. James looked out of place for different reasons, though, and was actually dressed relatively appropriately for this environment. In his khaki shorts, light, floral button-up, and hiking boots he looked almost too ready to be here. But the bewilderment in his eyes, the way he absentmindedly felt his chest for a pulse, showed just how little he fit on these beaches.

In their embrace, James was momentarily paralysed before processing some truth of the matter and hugging back. Lark could practically feel some anxieties lifting from his brother’s shoulders. For the first time in probably over two decades he was Lark’s little Jay again. These moments of genuine affection between them had been lost to them since they were boys. They’d been forced to become strangers to one another. But now they were both lost. Both free of the responsibilities of life outside. Equalised. There was something tragically unifying about this outcome.

“No, you’re right. There aren’t many clear cut answers, unfortunately. Not on my end, at least.” Lark agreed as they pulled apart. “I’m glad to have found you so soon, too, Jay. Right? You haven’t been here long? Some people out here discover family who’ve been here for decades and they just had no idea. So… yeah, I’m glad I found you sooner than later.”

He released a tired laugh when James commented on him looking dead, “Right. Well… I’ve been through… quite a bit recently. Could have died if it wasn’t for—” he winced at the thought of finishing the sentence and looked down at his feet. The image of the vines ripping Luke away was still fresh in his mind, mingled with regrets of not acting smarter to prevent it all. He couldn’t keep thinking about it or he’d spiral again, like he’d been doing in intervals all week. “—but we can talk about me and this island later. How is everyone? Katie? Eleanor?”

There was a moment’s pause as he wondered if it was even worth asking. James had never really been a fan of Elias, so Lark doubted he would know anything about how he was doing. Then again, he had to ask, “How’s Elias? Do you know at all? Is he—” The last time he saw Elias’s face, Luke was wearing it, hands around his neck. Now, thinking of Elias seemed to forge a direct mental path back to Luke. That would likely be something he’d have to analyse eventually. “—is he doing alright?”

[dreams-of-a-lark]

j-crain​:

Clinging to the beach seemed like the best idea to start. To at least get a sense of the island’s size… perhaps there was an abandoned dock or more lost ships– something to indicate that people, at least at some point, lived on the island. There had been the old ship, whose sailors had to be dead by now just based on how old the thing was, and the airplane which looked so battered James assumed everyone onboard had died in the crash. This place was turning into an island of the damned. And it was about the get worse.

The shore turned jagged, James looking up at the cliffs and feeling his stomach drop. They were nowhere near as tall as the cliff he had been pushed fallen from, but seeing them still made him shiver. Surely there would be a way around the crags. Before he could look a figure appeared atop the rock and leapt forward. James felt his heart stop, afraid he was about to see the aftermath of his own fate. Wondering if this was what the island was– just death at every corner. 

To his relief the figure… floated. Like a dandelion seed but with more control, slowly moving towards the rocky earth. As if that wasn’t enough of a shock James swore the figure was familiar. Curly hair the color of tree bark atop a tall figure. Same as his brother. It’s just coincidence, he told himself, figuring plenty of tall people had curly brown hair. But when the figure finally landed and James saw those eyes, the same eyes as his own, he realized it wasn’t coincidence at all. “Lark?” he thought aloud just before the figure– his brother, spoke.

Lark was walking towards him and James reciprocated, walking forward as well. He said something about the island tricking him– but James was just overwhelmed hearing his brother’s voice again. The last time he heard him spoke had only been over the phone. Lark was always in New York and James always in London. They didn’t talk often but he wasn’t his father, he wouldn’t abandon Lark even if they were very different people. He heard Lark speak but did not process his words, his mind nagging him to remember what is was they had last spoken about. Probably the trip he and Elias were about to go on, the very one where Lark lost his life. 

They were only a few steps away from each other when Lark said care to enlighten me? James now noticed the scratches on his skin… how pale he looked… James rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, “I’m in hell,” he muttered, speaking to himself. “I died and I’m in a personal hell–” of course he would be reminded of his tragic brother. The boy who never had a chance. Who had been treated like he was nothing yet his loss left the family hollow. “God– this is so fucked we never even found your body.”

☁︎︎☽☀︎︎☾☁︎︎

The apparition did not respond anywhere near how Lark expected him to. It wasn’t as if people on this island didn’t know how he got here, but the utter shock in the other’s voice… maybe this was no trick. Going on about how this was his personal hell. “Well, firstly—bit rude, that. Secondly, still haven’t figured out what this place is exactly. It could be hell, could be limbo, could just be a funky magic island. Whatever it is, it’s… really not as bad as all that.” He hesitated to make that final statement. This place had put him through hell, but, at the same time, he’d grown to love so much of it—the adventures, the magic, the people. Just like outside, Meridium had its pros and cons. Hell felt like a harsh word for what it was.

‘We never even found your body.’

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. My body’s been here all this time. But you—God, is it really you? How long—?” A million questions ran through Lark’s mind. An array of confusion, sadness, resentment. How did he get here? What ‘killed’ him? Why him? The last was perhaps the cruelest thought of all. For all the people Lark wished he could see again… why James?

Their relationship had always been complicated. James was the pride and future of the family, while Lark was its shame and demise. James was everything Lark could never be and had always been quick to feed that narrative. On Lark’s end there was also a constant guilt that he didn’t do enough to save him. Guilt that he’d put so much energy into his own escape, he made no time to find a way to free James from the pressures and burdens of being a Crain.

So, for all these reasons and more, it was hard to say James fell very high on this the list of people from home that Lark wanted to see now. And yet… he was still his brother. Lark had still missed him in all the complex ways he could. And he was here now, for better or worse. Lark drew even closer and reached out to touch James’s arm—confirm he was real. At the confirmation, he immediately pulled back as though he’d burnt himself. Flesh and bone. There was no doubt in his mind now. James was really here. But processing was something else entirely.

He stood back and stared at his brother in awe. Someone he’d never dreamed of seeing again. “I never thought—I don’t know what—” Words stumbled on words. Why were they so hard to form? “I’m—” Words wouldn’t do, nor would they come, in any case. When reality finally settled in his mind, Lark launched back at his brother and pulled him in for a hug, one of the few hugs they’d shared in all their lives. Despite everything, some words finally came to sum up a small fraction of what he was feeling, “I’m sorry you’re here. But damn am I happy to see you.”