So… this ended up longer than I meant for it to be. Sorry. 😁
The way you view James is interesting to me. I always imagined him as being a pretty free spirt who is just so incredibly alive. Most people who meet him probably describe him as the most alive person they’d ever met. He lived every second to the fullest and wanted to go all the way out to the edge and experience everything. Of course him and Sirius are described as “much admired rebels” but his rebellion isn’t the same it’s a freer thing if that makes sense? It’s not born form such darkness as Sirius’ is. James’ is fueled by a lust for life, new experiences, and new people and it’s more him challenging or rebelling against pure blood society (which I think is like just how the Potters roll) and their messed up ideals not his family.  Sirius’ being fueled by a lust for freedom (from his family, their beliefs, abuse, and his demons) and discovery of who he is and wants to be. Thus rebelling against his family, their beliefs, their power, and pure blood society. 
The Potter family where an old and wealthy family, but where mostly content with a comfortable life in the “back waters” of wizarding society and weren’t concerned with blood purity. Even with a history of muggle and muggle born rights activists. I always read this as them being rather different. I kinda felt like we were dealing with a family that just passed down the value of “fuck society we do what we want.” Like I imagine them as eccentric inventors, cures breakers, adventurers, magizooologists, quidditch players, dragon handlers, aurors, and whatever else wild, exciting, fun thing one could think of. I definitely think that doing well (academically, career wise,etc) was important and considered valuable by them but for some reason I just seem like being a rather wild and free bunch. Definitely still approachable, kind, down to earth, kind, accessible, but worldly, fun, exciting, intense, passionate, adventures and excitement on legs.
hello! definitely no sorry needed, i love talking all things jfp 💜💜
i’m gonna be honest, i don’t actually see james as a rebel at all (with or without a cause). i see him as pretty much sticking to what’s expected of him in most cases (esp public) and only really going off the path when he’s with a trusted few. i definitely see where ur going and i love it! he’s definitely full of life and always, always happy to be trying new things. i often call him the sunshine kid and i’ll stick by it. i definitely think a large part of it comes from the confidence & high self esteem his parents instilled in him—he sees something and he goes for it, and this often ends up in him doing all these weird, adventurous, often dangerous things right? (i also think he has a large uhh what’s the word, adrenaline kink? nope, that’s not it. but u know what i mean right? the kind of person who loves extreme sports, for eg)
also lol love the hippie potters vibe you’re drawing here. (i also have this funny mental image of like, ridiculously wacky/eccentric potters and then comes james—a whole buttoned up, proper posh boy kid—and they’re (incl portraits) all just baffled like, how is he like this??? who gave him the stick up the arse?? like everyone else is dressed in the most mismatched, alternative fashion ever and then u have james in sweater vests and shorts and buttons downs)
i’m now also imagining harry learning all this about his family and it’s so !!!! like i’ve read a few fics that super focus on potter family history (one where they were like, military tacticians and super op fighters which was so good) and i love stuff like that! harry finding out that the potters were this bunch of crazy inventors & chose the most ridiculous professions and i feel like that would give him such a sense of freedom and relief and he’d definitely be next in line ykno?
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snippet of my oc and izana interacting with a guest appearance from makiri that probably wont make it into the fic im writing for them but i thought was hilarious. also the characterisation is so messy but its all for the joke so its fine
opens and ends abruptly bc well. snippet
“Hey,” Retsu says, breaking the blissful silence. “Hey, is Mitsuhide more your type or Makiri?”
A moment's pause. Before she can repeat herself, because it's an extremely important question that deserves an appropriate reponse, Izana deigns to humour her. Shortly. “We can’t all be in love with our friends,” he replies. “Some of us also have work to be doing.”
There’s a knock at the door. Retsu hums and waits just long enough to be sure of who’s on the other side (one knock, really more of a bang, hard and impatient, definitely Makiri) before continuing. The door creaks open as she says, “How about that guy, uh… black hair, older, got married while I was Viscountess? That… ah, Amakize. Eldest son of Lugis. How about him? He seems like your type.”
The door slams shut.
Izana is unmoved. “And what, pray tell, is that.”
Retsu obliges, always eager to please. “Obviously, bastard under the smile.”
Izana isn’t looking at her, so she compensates by snickering obnoxiously. Still no reaction. Today’s Izana is determined to be a bore, it seems.
“… What are you doing?” Not even a minute since he arrived and Makiri already sounds tired. It’s good to know she hasn’t lost her touch – Izana is just boring.
She looks up and raises one arm in a lazy wave. “Hi, Makiri. His Royal Majesty says you’re ugly.”
Izana sighs but makes no move to deny it.
“What are you doing,” Makiri repeats, staring pointedly at Retsu.
She considers that. “Your King is quizzing me on the male members of upper noble houses and high-ranking officers.”
“I am being harassed,” says Izana.
Makiri sidesteps all that with long-practised ease and asks, “Why only the men?”
“Because he's even worse at remembering the women than I am.”
Izana’s eye twitches. “Name one woman.”
“Haki of Arleon!”
“You’re a woman,” Makiri helpfully adds.
Retsu wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, but Lady Haki’s the most important one.”
Izana, once again, does not attempt to disagree. Makiri closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Shameless, the both of you.”
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No. 10 - Poor unfortunate souls
Taser | Whipping | Waterboarding
850 words | OC: Ghost Ambulance
is this a heist au? who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ im also not super happy w/ it esp for a day with such good prompts but once again, and i cannot stress it enough: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ the whump came out good and that's what matters lol
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CN: stun gun use, electrocution, burns
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Three things happen at once:
The electronic lock beeps an approval.
A voice from behind shouts: "Hands in the air!"
And Cutter spins around to face the security guard, just in time to see her aim.
Then he feels two hits to the chest. He looks down and follows the zig-zagged lines back to the taser gun in the guard's hands. Just in time to see her finger squeeze the trigger.
Every nerve in his body explodes. Muscles lock, wrenching his spine backwards. The current burns through him like a strobe light, pain sizzling away his vision, then hearing, then thoughts. A strangled, guttural groan forces its way out between his clenched teeth that feel like they're going to crack from the strain. Another impact rattles him as his rigid body hits the ground. He's on fire, convulsing, every tendon threatening to snap.
The three seconds stretch to an eternity in Cutter's scorched consciousness. Then the current stops. But his body keeps seizing, his head slams against the ground over and over again as the pain, like an afterimage, remains in his muscles as lethal, excruciating tension. The air cracks like fireworks, the sound of overloading synapses.
He can't tell how long it lasts. It feels like minutes until the blinding fog dissipates and finally he can feel that this battered body is his again. He's gasping, small whimpers escaping his throat with every desperate inhale. His fingers feel slick; he must have clenched his fists hard enough for the nails to draw blood.
Senses return to him like a movie image fading in; it's all there but feels distant, like he's still separated from the lobby by a screen. But he knows there's no time. Pushing through the ache that lingers like a fresh bruise, he turns onto his side. With a groan of effort, he puts a hand underneath him but immediately his head spins. His newly returned vision swims away again and he lays there for a long, painful moment, forcing deep breaths into his lungs. Something stings him right through the ribcage and he realizes the taser's electrodes are still embedded in his chest. They stick out like bizarre insects, framed by rings of dark soot where they have singed his shirt. The thin rigid wires trail down and tangle with each other. The smell of burnt cotton mixes with that of burnt skin.
Cutter winces as another crack pierces through his head, point blank into his eardrum: his comms earpiece, he realizes. The discharge must have fried the electronics. Elaine is going to be so mad.
A gloved hand appears suddenly in front of him. As if summoned, the huntress herself is leaning over him, face haloed by the backlight. Cutter lets her pull him up; everything wobbles around him again but he manages to catch an unsteady balance.
"Are you okay?" Elaine asks, her eyes fixed on the two electrodes sticking out of his chest. That and the gun itself, abandoned on the floor, make the story clear.
"Yeah." It takes him a moment to answer, but it's mostly the truth. His chest aches like he's been punched and his breath comes choppy. He counters Elaine's tense frown with a smile. "How's my hair?"
She raises her eyebrows - and so has to stop frowning. "It's fine. Your shirt is not."
"A good shirt, too," he muses, picking at the charred fabric. From under it shows the angry red of damaged skin which he has no desire to inspect closer. The sight of the electrodes embedded in it makes his head spin again.
When he grabs the first one, Elaine puts a hand on his shoulder blade; bracing. He yanks it out like pulling a tooth, gasps at the sharp pain - but it feels good to toss it away. A tiny ribbon of smoke trails it as it skids across the polished floor.
Cutter's hand wavers when he reaches for the next one. It's instinct, the body refusing to cause itself more pain. The electrode's surface is still hot between his fingers, the sensation blurring together with the burning on his chest. Blood sticks his skin to the barbed metal. Why is this so difficult? He has to close his eyes, slowly exhale so that the dizziness goes away. He grits his teeth and rips the second electrode out with a grunt.
The sudden motion sends him swaying again but Elaine's hands keep him steady. Though any touch feels now like a fresh bruise on his aching body, he leans on her. All he can do is wait until the world stops reeling around him and his vision finally clears. Even then, the ache remains in his limbs like a leaden, sizzling weight. Suddenly, he feels very, very tired.
But looking down at Elaine's questioning, still worried face, he can't help but grin at her. They'll both be fine. How could they not be, when they're here together? A small hitch like this could never be enough to throw them off track. Not them.
He crooks his head towards the newly unlocked door.
"Shall we?"
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