#scissors pun

[normalcoin]

keiichi ookabe - significance gift for @taisakai, currently a smoky cat

[dorkfruit]

nya :3 *murders ur whole family*

[call-me-foolery---tom-foolery]

isnt it funny how you can spend almost a whole year determined to grow out your hair and then you have a single hot day and you just

[miku-worldwide]

If you were to consider all of us Mikus related as siblings (which we do sometimes but not always), you could consider us to have a lot of sisasisters

[hermitsandarchives]

I wouldn't trust her around my hair or with scissors in general. She is going to give this man a skullet.

everyone needs a daisy!

[world-of-advice]

[sirxlla]

Okay I have a request if you could do it, btw I love your bat bros writings

What about how would batboys be if the reader was a tailor?

You're Their Seamstress/Tailor (Batboys)

------------------------------------------------

Dick: You had bent over, and since Dick was feeling cheeky (pun intended), he swatted your ass.

"I will choke the life out of you with my tailor tape, Grayson." You smacked his arm with a laugh and a smile.

"Hey, you do it to me all the time and it's not my fault you tailor your pants so well to your body."

You roll your eyes before measuring his hips, having to slightly press your face to his stomach.

"Hey there, do I gotta pay extra or does that come included in my fitting?" He remarks, being a smartass as per usual.

You finished up measuring him and started working on his suit, at some point while watching tv he passed out on your couch. You grabbed a blanket and covered him up before returning to your work tailoring his suit. He had a gala to go to and navy really brought out his blue eyes especially when paired with a baby blue tie. The color combination was so simple but it always made him look so handsome.

"God- Fuckin- Shit! Fuck me!" He had slept for a few hours but woke suddenly when he heard you cuss.

"You okay?" He asked with concern as he pushed the blanket off him and got to his feet before quickly making his way over to you.

"Yeah, I- I'm okay, I just sliced my finger open with the scissors." You got up and rushed over to the sink and let the cold water run over it. Dick was quick to grab the first aid kit to bandage your finger.

"It's alright fingers tend to bleed a lot." He said as he noticed the worry and pain on your face. Dick opened the triple antibiotic that has pain relief, thankfully. He dried your finger, put the antibiotic on it and then the little Spongebob bandaids youd picked out which made you smile. You had always thought it was worth the extra couple cents to get themed bandaids cause they gave a smidge of dopamine as well as protection for your finger. Having Star Wars, Hello Kitty or Spongebob bandaids did a lot to help you and others feel a little bit better after an accident.

Dick kissed your finger over the bandaid as he looked into your eyes. "My- My mom always said if you kiss it, it'll heal quicker. I know it's bullshit but little things like that help a lot when accidents happen." Remembering how his mom would kiss his boo boos when he was a kid, he didnt talk about her much so when he brought her up it was heart-warming to know he trusted you with that.

"Thats why I get the themed bandaids! Its the little trivial things that mean a lot." You smiled as you were so glad he had the a smiliar outlook as you.

--------------------------------------------------

Jason: It was very unsurprising when it came to how rough Jason was on everything from his guns to his jacket, to his boots so it was almost weekly that you were fixing something of his.

"Jay, how do you even tear this area?" You said as you held up the jacket that had definitely seen better days, a massive hole in the upper bicep.

"Easy, I've been working out." Jason says being a complete smartass, which you suppose is a good thing, considering if he wasn't, you would know there was something wrong with him.

"Hardy Har Har." Giving him an annoyed smirk flipping him off before grabbing your needle and thread. Unfortunately, a lot of the things that Jason needed patched up had to be hand-sewn, and so you painstakingly spent hours fixing any little holes he had.

"Angel, you know that's not nice." He laughs as he quickly quips back at you, sitting in the desk chair next to you, spinning around.

"I know, that's why I said it." You grabbed his chair and stopped him from spinning. "With the damage being the way it is, I'm most likely going to have to hold on to this for a couple of days, but I did work on something for you."

You put the jacket down so you could get back to it later and got up from your seat. Expecting him to get up and follow, but of course, him being him, he decided that it was a good idea to roll the desk chair across the floor behind you. You rolled your eyes and opened the cabinet to a fairly badass and upgraded suit.

"I worked with Lucius to improve a few things; the fibers are thicker but still breathable and light. Kneepads, chest plate, bracers and the helmet is the same design as before, but we added a better filtration system and a heads-up display on the helmet so you can track blood and run an analysis of whatever you need. The cargo pants are more tear resistant, the jackets new material but the old design." You ran him through all the little bits and pieces of the upgrades, and he almost looked in shock.

"You just did this? Like I didn't even need to ask you, you just did... I have been wondering about a new suit." The smirk that always seemed to lace his tone seemed to slip, now laced with appreciation. "How do you know I needed all this stuff?"

"Well, I talked with Bruce and Barbara on exactly what you needed technology wise and then I spoke to Lucius about the way you fight and things that are tearing and such. Considering he's done so much work with Bruce I figured he would know best and we got it figured out. If you end up not liking something let me know and we'll tweak it as needed."

"Holy shit, this is just..." He stands up from the desk chair and pushes it away from him a little bit. The wheels roll against the tile of the floor as he gazes at his new suit. "No, Angel. I have a feeling this is gonna be amazing." He grabs youand gives you a big hug, In this moment he felt so cared for and so appreciated as he squeezed you a little. "You're a goddamn genius, Angel."

----------------------------------------------------

Bruce: You worked with Lucius on Bruce's suit, working with him on design and functionality. You and Bruce were arguing, the two materials he wanted to pair would make his suit heavy in the rain and he wasn't listening.

"You know what, do it your way, Bruce. Cause you're always right." You stared into his ocean blue eyes with annoyance and anger. Usually those eyes mean the world and could bring you to your knees but right now all you felt was annoyance and irritation.

"I will." He said it with a bit of a smartass tone, he was glad you backed down because he wasnt used to being questioned by anyone.

Guess what happened? The dumbass's suit was too heavy, and he ended up falling off a three-story building.

Thankfully, he's okay but now youre taking care of him. You didn't need to tell him I told you so, he knew he was wrong. While he was passed out in his bed you fixed up his suit and replaced the material that made it so heavy.

Bruce was never one for customizing his things too much but you knew how much he cared about his parents and sewed a small black rose into the undershirt of his suit. It was something he may never see or notice but it felt right considering how often he'd place roses where his parents were killed in Crime Alley, it was like they'd be with him at all times.

Bruce found it months later and immediately thought of you. He'd been thinking of you a lot and he realized how much you truly care about him by doing such little things like refill the water bottles in the batmobile and clean his suit without him asking. He sent you black roses as a thank you so you knew he saw it.

"You do so much for everyone and my family wouldnt be nearly as safe without you. I cant thank you enough. Let me take you out to dinner when you have time. - BW"

Your heart lept into your chest, you and Bruce bumped heads but it was in the same way an old married couple did, you both wanted what was best for the other. Bruce didnt want that other material cause he knew it'd be a pain for you to sew, even if he wouldn't tell you that. You wanted him safe, he knew that but you'd been busting your ass for the whole Batfamily so he asked for the other material even if in the end it did make him look stupid and dislocated one of his shoulders.

So due to that, he could at least get you to take you on a date, he needed a break too and it would be nice to get out and get away from all his kids to spend time with someone he was growing quite fond of.

----------------------------------------------------

Tim: When it came to upgrading Tim's gadgets it was a pain in the ass because he always needed the newest tech and a way to upgrade it. Fortunately, when it came to the gadgets he handled that himself or he had Lucius help with it.

When it came to the suit itself it didn't need to be upgraded unless it had some serious degradation and it was getting to that point, it had holes and rips everywhere.

"No, Tim. We cant talk about it later." You spoke to him through comms as he was on patrol.

"I'm a little busy." You could hear the wind on his cape as he glided over and through the city.

"You're always busy, Tim. The suit needs upgrades and if we dont get to them now it'll be too late. If you dont wanna miss a night of patrol then we need to do it now."

"Alright, Jesus. Why do you always gotta be right?" He said with a easy-going joking tone as he landed on a roof somewhere and there was the sound of the rain patting down onto his cape.

"So I was thinking maybe some titanium coated armor, it'd be stronger but definitely wouldnt add much weight...then maybe we could keep the boots but the pants wear too quickly-"

"Yeah, all that sounds good. I trust you but I gotta go, just do whatever you want." He said as it sounded like he started fighting a group of thugs. "I gotta go, getting my ass handed to me over here. You know? Normal stuff." He said with a laugh.

You worked like a mule trying to get his suit together, referencing his measurements and the sketch you had done several versions of trying to figure which looked the best and was the most functional. Tim bounces around like a ping pong ball so you just put the new suit in place of the old one so he could try it when he got around to it.

"Hey, have you seen this suit?! This is amazing!" He asked you as if he didn't already know you made it yourself.

"I'm glad you like it." You smiled as you worked on other garments.

"I could kiss you, this is so amazing! I- I- I mean...Um, yeah. Thank you." He says as he quickly leaves the room in his suit before his face matches the red on the new chest piece.

----------------------------------------------------

Damian: Being Bruce's son meant Damian would regularly have to attend galas. Damian wasnt so rough on his armored suits so mainly he needed to commision you for suits and the like.

He wasn't very talkative or sociable but secretly it was your favorite thing to do to dress up Damian like your own little Ken doll. Of course he'd never tell you but something about you lighting up everytime he needed something tailored just made his black heart just a very shades lighter.

"Mmm hmmm hmmm." You hummed to your music, your headphones on as to not disturb Damian while you fitted him with the new suit you had just finished but minutes before he walked in.

"You know you don't have to do that?"

"What?" You asked a bit concerned that you'd upset him in some sorta way.

"You can play your music out loud. I don't mind." He wanted to let you in and he could see how much you relaxed after he said that.

"I um- I don't know if you'll like it." You said concerned as you fiddled with your tailored tape.

"Well, we don't know if I will if you dont show me." Damian was in uncharted territory on talking to people and getting to know them but this felt good?

"I'm just listening to the Arcane soundtrack for this last season. It was so good." You almost started rambling but stopped, you liked Damian and didnt want him to think you were weird by going off about your interests.

"Yeah, it was pretty good, I really didn't expect that ending..."

"No, No, No! Wait! I haven't finished it. I just- I haven't had the chance. I'm on like episode four or five." You stopped him before he went on and accidentally spoiled it.

"Oh, so you haven't even got to the big parts then..."

"No, I've been working on your suit." You said as you smoothed the suit over his shoulders. The suit is a beautiful deep burgundy, the collars black with a black tie and white undershirt, simple but unique. He looks stunning, your hands held his wrist as you put on his cufflinks for him.

"We'll, I um..." Holy shit he was nervous, he'd not done this in ages...and he was never nervous but he wanted to make a good impression. He took a deep breath. "Hey, why don't you and I watch the last episodes together? Like make it a night tomorrow or something? I mean- Actually... do you have time tonight?"

"Tonight? I thought you were busy with the gala." You asked him, you didnt wanna say yes then make him feel obligated when he was actually meant to be somewhere else.

"I was but Jason and Dick can deal with it. I'd rather spend my night here with you if that's okay." You turned your face away from him as it was probably obvious that your heart was beating in eyes like an old cartoon.

"I'd love that." Your eyes glancing up at his a lot less nervous and a lot more hopeful.

That night was full of a lot of emotion from the show and you ended up a sobbing mess against his chest, thank goodness he'd changed out of the suit otherwise it would be soaked with your tears. He held you all through it and by the end of the night he was sure he was crushing on you.

-> Masterlists <-

[zaharas-desert]

Starcrossed Strangers

Hello! Looking through @sharkylass's au In Repetition And Change again I had gotten the energy to try my hand at making a short oneshot based off what sharky has shared as well as my own ideas. You can also find it on AO3 if that is preferred. Enjoy.

The wind feels nice on your hair as it flows past you.

It is quiet, the rest of the party has already gone to bed, leaving you to your thoughts. It surprises you sometimes, how easily you can try to forget why they aren’t the same as the party you remember.

…

Of course, factually they are, same faces, same smiles, same tears and glares, Siffrin’s puns are the same, Mirabelle’s kindness is undoubtedly hers, Odile is observant as always, and Bonnie is the same kid you all love. Yet it isn’t the same, because it is you who Changed.

Again and again and again and again until there was only the parts of yourself that you had buried away. The parts that were rotting, breaking, failing-

. . …

Seedling has Changed too, but it is different with him. He is still Isabeau, yet you are….not.

Seedling’s earring dings on your cloak as you continue down the path, watching the darkless sands of the beach get closer.

It is strange to be outside of Vaugarde, after so long within Jouvente, so long travelling the country, so long in Dormont, the House, that Blinding Tree. But it is nice. To see more, to travel, seeing the party so happy, seeing Seedling so happy, after it all.

Maybe even seeing yourself happy, sometimes.

Yet it is not all carefree travels, sadly. The party and you have been informed that there has been peculiar spikes of unidentifiable craft in parts of the world, with the closest being near the city you are visiting. You don’t want to jump to conclusions, but you can see the worry in your Seedling’s eyes. The possibility of what craft this is.

…you ignore the stares of the stars above as you feel the sand at your feet.

It feels nice underneath you, shifting and Changing, something you have experienced too much of yet are desperate to have more. You just needed to get away from them all for a bit, to think through it all and see if you can help them.

It is growing darker, the stars beginning to get brighter as they shine within the night sky.

…

…?

Something is glowing by the docks. What…?

You step forward, watching as the glow flickers in the distance. It can’t be a lantern; nobody would craft something so bright at this time. Likely not a light for ships either, this is not a harbor that larger boats would sail towards unless it is an emergency.

You get closer. As you do you begin seeing more than just the glow. It looks like a bright light, spanning outside of its source in all directions, connecting to….

…

To a lightless body like yours. Is this the source of that craft?

You step onto the dock, your sandals making a small thunk on the wood. The source startles, turning quickly to look at you with a scissors sign ready.

They…they look like you used to, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed on an otherwise featureless face. The star in their chest thrums with craft, the batches of constellations entwining the rest of their body as you continue to stare. A Vaugardian coin is held within their left hand.

You feel their eyes on you before glancing down at the coin, lifting it up to their chest as it flickers away. Something about the way they move feels so familiar to you, just like-

“Ah, pardon me, I didn’t hear your approach.”

Their eyes have squinted to look like they are smiling, their hands clasped together as they look you up and down. Your silence makes them falter for a moment before they continue on.

“My, struck speechless at the sight of me, how surprising~” You blink, trying to process the past few moments before opening your mouth.

“Apologies, I was just…not expecting anyone out here.” “You don’t have to lie you know, I can wager it is a surprise to find someone with as shining of a personality as myself, especially one that looks so….familiar.”

You look down at your hands, a similar shade as the strangers in front of you, a reminder of what you have gone through. What you have failed and survived.

“Yes. I can admit I did not think I would find anyone who looks like me, given the reason’s why.”

“I imagine, it’s not often you see someone touched by the Universe like us. What brings you here this wonderful evening sunsprout!”

Sunsprout? Hm, you suppose given your looks you can see the plant connection, but why the sun? You look at them, feeling that familiarity grow within your chest.

“I was just out for a walk, trying to think about the recent phenomenon that has been talked about.” “Oh~ Recent phenomenon you say? I am unfortunately a touch out of the loop on recent events these days, care to share.” They blink cutesy at you, leaning forward as if waiting for gossip. You tilt your head to the side.

“It is being shared that there are unknown spikes of craft emerging, with no one truly figuring out what is causing it. I am out here with my…allies to see if we can figure it out.”

You focus your attention back on them, your right hand fiddling with the earring on your cloak. They follow your movement and still, staring down at the item in your hands. You continue.

“Now I could be incorrect here, but someone such as yourself must have a decent grasp on craft types beyond common knowledge. Do you have any leads on this?”

They stay silent for a moment, before turning to look out at the water behind them. It ripples against the docks, the waves a quiet backdrop as the star seems to think. You see a flicker of something in their right eye before they snap back to you with their eyes closed. A strained smile if you were to guess.

“I can’t say I do sunsprout~ But I would be willing to help out. I don’t have much to do anyway and I have been finding myself growing bored.”

You…look at how they hold themselves. You can’t be sure, but if they are who you think they were then...

…

“More help would always be reliable, especially when investigating new areas of craft. My name is Roboro, they/he/it if you would.”

…you can’t let them go. Especially if you can help them like the others have done for you. What kind of person would you be…

“Of Course, sunspout. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance~”

…If you didn’t try to help a fellow Savior lost to time.

“You can call me Loop!”

[rosetta-j-stone]

Jan:

I don't know if I necessarily needed a reason to post these again. But if anyone is curious about their "new" crew as presented on their Twitter.

This is Jan with Kiki "he's an icon" and Primož "he makes sound go 🔥". And I think that's all we need to know.

[slowdrawl]

Shear Luck | joel miller x f!reader | [masterlist] {18+ minors DNI}

|part 1| The first cut is the deepest |2.5k words| Joel Miller, single dad, came into your salon for a haircut, but he never expected to leave with a crush. Sarah's alive, tension's are high, the jokes are bad and the chemistry is crazy!

Fluff ?✔️ Slow burn? ✔️ Age gap? ✔️ Puns? ✔️

sprinkle in a little bit of smut 🔥 and dbf!joel energy and BOOM. You got this sweet-feel good fic.

“What’re we doin’?” You ask, making eye contact with him in the mirror. “Hopefully performin’ a miracle,” he replies in a tired Southern drawl.” |A/N| I was at work today blowdrying my clients hair and this storyline came to mind, I thought I'd end up just doing a one-shot but when I started writing I immediately fell in love with these two, so I decided it would span over a few shorter chapters. I hope any of you that stumble across this love them too.

Warnings: Mild language, flirting, fluff, puns, age gap (Joel's 38, reader's 23). eventual smut, daddy kink (if you squint) alcohol use.

It’s Saturday, your back is screaming, feet killing you from two kids haircuts after a marathon balayage, you’re hunched over like a gremlin, salon empty now. It’s just you, sweeping up glitter-dusted hair. You’re beat, the clock is mocking you, and you don’t remember the last time you ate, or if you ate today at all. You check the clock, 5:45 fifteen more minutes till close, “finally” you mumble to yourself. Your phone has 4 missed calls and 5 missed texts, half of them probably trying to get a last-minute appointment.

Who the fuck takes walk-ins on Saturday?

The door chimes open and you curse under your breath, turning to face the front desk; you throw on your best customer service face and stop dead���oh.

The fake customer service face drops and turns into something a hell of a lot more sincere when you see him.

The gentleman that just walked in is your type, tall, rugged as hell—medium-length wildly curling hair that’s got a few silver streaks right at the temples. His beard is patchy like he's been at it with dull scissors, and he’s got a flannel thrown on over a faded Pink Floyd tee paired with dark-wash jeans—covered in sawdust no doubt. He looks tired and devastatingly handsome, he's probably got a decade on you at least. You can smell the pine on him from the front door.

He walks in quietly towards the front desk, looking down at his shoes, hands in his pockets, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“I need uh—you got time for one more cut?” His eyes lift from the floor to meet yours, big, round, and coffee brown.

“Only if you say please,” you give him a smirk, “and you gotta give me your phone number first.”

He freezes for a second, looking back at you and cocking his head to the side, eyebrow raised, half-confused, half-intrigued. He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off before he gets a chance.

“Need to put you into the computer system,” you say with a wink clicking open a new client profile.

You watch as his face relaxes, shoulders drop, he breathes out half a chuckle before saying “It’s Joel, Joel Miller,” handing it off to you like you’ve won something.

He gives you his phone number and you type it into the system, setting him up a profile.

“Alright, big guy, looks like you’re officially my last victim of the week, come on in,” you smile and gesture towards the salon, walking behind your chair and patting the leather seat. “Okay, let's see what we’re working with then, sit”

His boots shuffle across the laminate and he sits down heavy into the chair, slouching down low, without you needing to ask him to.

Thank god, my shoulders are already screaming.

You pick up a comb and start raking through the mess on his head, coarse, wavy, dark hair speckled with, you guessed it. Sawdust.

“What’re we doin’? You ask, making eye contact with him in the mirror.

“Hopefully performin’ a miracle,” he replies in a tired Southern drawl.

You can see he’s exhausted, his voice is flat and rough.

“Sounds good to me, turnin’ water into wine costs extra though, that alright?” You try to crack his shell but he just stays silent.“Tough crowd, damn—okay—rough day cowboy?”

“Somethin’ like that, rough week,” he replies, looking at the mirror, avoiding your gaze.

You start trimming, keeping it longer, it looks good on him. “Well you’re in luck, I’m about to make it a lot worse! You get to end it with my bad jokes!” You grin, trying to get him to bite but he still doesn't, you’ll get him though.

“Why’d the client tip extra?” Silence. You snip louder, “The bangs were a real blast— get it?”

His lips twitch, just barely but you’ve almost got it so you barrel on. “how about: I told my last client he had a head like a bowling ball—smooth and full of holes… Yeah, he didn’t laugh either.”

A smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth—finally, a low rumble of a laugh breaks through, and you beam. “There it is! Thanks for humoring me. I like to think of this gig as more than haircuts—it’s dinner and a show, except there’s no dinner, no show, and most folks leave thinking, ‘What the fuck’s wrong with her?’ But they always come back.”

He chuckles again, deeper this time, shaking his head. “You should do comedy,” he says, voice gravelly, warming up.

“Yeah, you know I tried stand-up for a bit,” you say, grabbing the trimmers to get the few stray hairs on his collar. “Realized I’m more of a sit-down girl—better at bad puns than punchlines.” You place your hands on his shoulders and squeeze, “Wash time.”

“Nah, don’t need that, 'm fine” he protests.

“Not askin, Mr. Miller, I’m tellin. Come on let's go, move it.”

He gets out of the chair with a groan, and you walk him over to the shampoo sink, guiding his head down into the bowl, dragging your nails slightly up his neck as you do it. “Hairs like a sawdust magnet by the looks of it.” You turn the water on and let it trickle over his hair, grabbing some ‘manly’ shampoo, tea tree, and mint instead of flowers or grapefruit, or whatever other girly shampoo you’ve got on the back bar.

You massage slow circles into his head, lightly scratching your fingernails into his scalp, a soft grunt escaping despite himself. The radio’s blasting dad rock, Springsteen, maybe—and he mutters, “Good taste,” voice lazy now. Unsurprising, doesn't usually take long to make em’ end up like putty in your hands.

“Only the best for my VIPs,” you tease, massaging longer than necessary, watching his jaw slacken. He fuckin’ loves it, you can tell—but he’d never admit it. You rinse, towel him off, and bring him over to the chair again. “Gotta style it now,” you use a paste, sweeping it back and off to the side, sharp but not like a cop. “Beard next,” you say, grabbing clippers, and he stiffens.

“Ain’t gotta—” he starts but you’re already in his space, getting halfway between his legs for a closer look, combing it out. His breath hitches for a second, rough stubble under your fingers, your chest brushing against his shoulders. You feel him tense, anxious, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Relax, Joel, I’m a pro,” you murmur, trimming it neat, square along his jaw, full but tamed, “At least that’s what everyone keeps tellin’ me.” Up close he’s gorgeous, like he was carved out of stone, but still soft. Lines jagged, dark eyes—you step back, smirking.”Okay, done. You outta’ pay me double for making you look so good, wife’s gonna be one happy lady!”

He stands up, rubbing his jaw, checks over himself in the mirror and smiles, barely but he smiles. “No wife to impress, my kids gonna be happy though, she was gettin’ embarrassed to be seen with me.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. “Double huh?” he says, handing you two twenties instead of one, a real grin tugging at his lips now; showing off a dimple in his cheek. “Fair.” He lingers, eyes on you for a beat too long.

“See you next time, cowboy, nice meetin’ you,” you yell at him as he heads for the door, boots scuffing, leaving you buzzing.

Later when you’re at home you lay on the couch watching SNL with your dad, you pull out your phone to shoot off a text to your friend Kim.

(9:45PM)

You: Hot older dude, probably mid/late 30’s idk im guessing, came in today. quiet, sexy as hell, laughed at my stupid jokes.

(9:49PM)

Kim: ok!!!! 🤔🤔he tip big??

(9:49PM)

You: yup, im fucked! 😩

(9:50PM)

Kim: i mean… lets hope you are, eventually at least 😉

You smile down at your phone, replaying your interaction with Joel. He feels familiar, but you can’t place your finger on it so you shrug it off—probably just a regular type, lotta’ blue-collar guys in Austin.

//

Two Weeks Later

It’s Saturday again, your booking system’s got “Sarah M., trim + straighten” in midday. A 10-year-old bounces in, curly hair a mess, and trailing behind her is none other than Joel, hands in his damn pockets again.

“She wants it straight,” he says, low with a hint of flirtiness to it, winking when Sarah’s not looking. “I’d probably fuckin’ burn her tryin’.”

“Smart man,” you laugh, settling her into the chair. She’s chatty—her eyes shining as you flat-iron her hair, turning her curls into sleek waves instead.

“It’s like you’ve got magic in your hands!” she squeals, twirling it, and you laugh.

“You wanna be a hairdresser now, kid?” you ask, and she nods, beaming. Joel just watches, leaning against the counter, smirking.

Sarah groans, “Dad stop staring at her, you’re being weird,” but she giggles anyway.

You give Joel a wink and shake your head at him “dang, Joel, called out tryina’ flirt by your kid, you need to step up your game old man.”

When Sarah's hair is sufficiently straight, and the ends are trimmed neat she rushes out to the truck, making sure to swipe about 6 lollipops on her way past the front desk. Joel lingers again, voice dropping down low. “You do house calls, darlin’”

You grin, leaning close. “You wish cowboy. Gotta take me to dinner first at least.”

“That so?” he drawls, stepping nearer, invading your space, eyes glinting. “You’d wanna be seen in public with an old man like me?

“First of all, don’t even know how old you are, wouldn't exactly call you an old man. Secondly, try me.” you shoot back, and he chuckles.

“38, probably old enough to be your daddy.” he laughs, “and you?”

“Didn’t take you as the kinda guy to be into that,” you reply with a wink, leaning in just a bit closer.

Okay brave, we see you, girl, make him sweat!

You continue, “I’m 23, my dad’s still got a few years on you.”

You see watch him swallow and his eyes widen, jaw opens like he's about to say something but can’t.

He just bites his lip, like he doesn't want to regret what might come ou,t he gives you a nod and turns on his heels to the door. But before he leaves he stops for a second to look back and says “You don’t know much ‘bout me darlin’, not yet,” smiling again, he adds “I’ll think about that dinner,” and he’s gone.

//

Another week and Joe’s back again, showing up at the end of the day; just as you’re about to clock out. His hair is a little wild again, beard creeping back to chaos, clothes a mess—that rough handsomeness hitting you like a brick.

“I thought you’d be closed,” he says, rubbing his neck like hes almost embarrassed to be there. “Got a thing this weekend,” settling into your chair. “Make me extra pretty.” He jokes, actually jokes with you, how rare!

“I think most of us have ‘a thing’ this weekend, fourth of July n’ all,” you tease. “Hot date or what?” Sit down, handsome, ill make you into a real heartbreaker.

He grunts, settling in, body too big for the space, cape snapping as you drape it over him.

He snorts, eyes meeting yours in the mirror, dark and steady, maybe with a flicker of something in thiem. “No date, just a…thing. Don’t need Sarah to give me shit about lookin’ like a caveman.”

His tone is casual, but theres a dodge there, you let it slide, snipping away.

“Big, brooding, Joel Miller—so mysterious,” you say, hovering close, breath brushing his ear as you cut. “Thank god you’ve god me, huh?” you flash him a grin and he chuckles, warm, loosening up.

“Capes a little tight darlin’, you tryin to choke me?” he says, hooking a finger in the front of the cape. You undo the snaps and let out a low chuckle.

“Sorry honey, didn’t mean to, usually charge extra for that.” You say real low, giving him a wink.

“Ah, theres that comedian comin’ out again.” he says, voice dipping a bit, “Keepin’ me entertained.” His hand shifts under the cape, brushing your thigh—accidental, maybe? But he doesn't move it fast, and your heart jumps.

You tidy up the sides, cutting half an inch off the top.

“Okay let's go wash it, no fighting,” you say ripping the cape off. You bring him back to the sink and lean him back, scratching his nape with your fingernails a little rougher than last time, purposeful, just to see him shiver. You wash, fingers deep in his scalp, massaging watching his gruff expression melt away, noticing how the frown line between his brows softens.

He exhales a groan, and it makes you smirk, “Purrin’ again, huh? I got you hooked now.”

“Keep dreamin',’’ he mutters, weak—lazy, his hands unclench in his lap. You hum along to the radio, Led Zepplin, this time Ramble On low in the background.

You bring him back to the chair and style it, a little slicker this time, more pomade.

“There, now if you don't get too crazy tonight, this might stay lookin' good till tomorrow,” you say, “beard needs a bit of work still.” You clean up his neckline, and trim his mustache, leaning in extra close this time to get a good look—or maybe for him to get a good look—you wore a lowcut shirt today. You tilt his chin up and catch him swallowing—hard, adams apple bobbing, his dark eyes flicking up to you. You feel the heat of him under his stubble.

“Careful.” He warns, drawl low, but he doesn't pull away.

“Always am,” you murmur, cleaning up his neckline, and framing it up just right. You oggle again. He’s stupidly good looking, smile lines, plush lips, faint scars, coffee eyes—and you step back, smirking. “There, too pretty for your own damn good, owe me double again”

“You’re a magician,” he says, handing you forty bucks again with a flirty “worth it.’

“Damn straight,” you say, leaning against the counter, knee brushing his thigh, close, casual, but the air’s thick now. “So, this ‘thing’—gonna tell me, or keep me guessing?”

“You’ll figure it out, darlin’. You’re a smart girl,” his hand hovers near yours nearly touching it, then it drops. “See you around, be good.” and he leaves.

You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t sulk a little when he left, no mention of dinner, no ‘house call’ comment to be heard.

You’ll live, girl calm down.

You immediately text Kim again.

(7:03PM)

You: DILF strikes again, i need him biblically. 😩

You laugh at yourself as you flick off the open sign and head for the door, heart still racing from that damn smirk of his.

(7:07PM)

Kim: oh you’re down BAD bad huh? I need to see this guy 😂

You lock up, grinning like an idiot, wondering if Joel Miller’s worth all this trouble.

Spoiler: he probably is.

[withahappyrefrain]

Can you please do meet cute 45) A owns a flower shop and B just needs the courage to go inside and say hello. For Rhett Abbott?

THIS ONE SCREAMS RHETT!! I'm so glad someone requested it with him!

Rhett Abbott had never felt more ridiculous in his entire life. 

He was told they just needed a few things from the grocery store. Rhett hated going to the grocery store. It meant people and people judged and whispered things about him, regardless of if it was true (majority of the time it wasn’t). 

But the grocery store was on the same street as The Wild Rose, Wabang’s brand new flower shop. And inside was you, the owner. 

Rhett scoffed at the idea at first. There was no way Wabang had enough people to warrant a flower shop. Plus, folks had plenty of land, they could make their damn bouquets if they wanted. 

Apparently people were lazy. It also helped that you sold wine and little knick knacks in addition to floral arrangements. Jars of speciality honey from a local farm, the wine from a nearby vineyard. Dish towels with funny sayings and food related puns. 

It wasn’t a store Rhett would go into, nevertheless pay attention to. But Amy wanted to go and it wasn’t like Perry was going to take her. 

There was a decent sized crowd outside the store, listening to the mayor drone on about how great this was going to be for the town, not just for Wabang but also for the surrounding area. Out of all the places to be on the ‘precipice of an economic boom’, Wabang did not come to Rhett’s mind. 

Before he could roll his eyes anymore, the mayor introduced the owner of the shop, you. 

God, you were beautiful with your bright eyes and dazzling smile as you spoke about how welcoming Wabang had been to you and how helpful when it came to making your dream a reality. Rhett was instantly smittened. 

But he couldn’t just go up and talk to you. For one, you were busy cutting a red ribbon with stupidly giant scissors. 

Second, you were luminous, vivid. Everything he wasn't. 

Rhett knew he didn't offer much, if anything. His life was directionless; all he did was work on the ranch and ride bulls when he could (when his right shoulder wasn't acting up). He would just drag you down. So instead, he settled for the chances he could walk past your shop and peek into the window for a glimpse of you. 

It was fucking pathetic. His family would give him so much shit if they found out. And yet, it was the highlight of his day, seeing you arrange a case, talk to customers. Rhett especially loved it when he caught you giving the floral arrangements to clients. The corners of your eyes would crease and the bridge of your nose scrunched up when you revealed your creation. It also allowed him to linger by the store window, to bask in your warmth for a little bit longer. 

“Do you think they're pretty?” Amy asked one day while they were walking down the street. 

Rhett let out a confused hum, turning his attention from your store window to his niece. 

“The owner. You always look in their window when we pass by,” Amy explained with a giggle. 

“It's just an interesting store,” Rhett grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets as he began walking again. 

“Then you should go inside!” Amy called out as she ran after him. 

If only it was that easy. 

—----------

Several months later Rhett was now standing in front of your door, rather than your window. 

He should go in. He had zero reason to not go in. Rhett actually required your services. So it wasn't as if he was just going to stroll in there with no plan. Or worse, use Amy as a guise (God, he hated when Perry did that). 

It was just….the thought of being in your presence, speaking to you. Having a conversation. Rhett wasn't much of a talker, never had been. Why would he, when hardly anyone was interested in what he had to say? 

And the truth was, he didn't have to go in. He could figure this out on his own. 

But when would his next chance come along? 

It was the unclear answer that gave him the courage to turn the handle and open the door. 

Your shop felt warm and inviting. One wall was filled with shelves, dedicated to displaying various colorful vases. In the middle, a designated ‘flower bar’ where folks could create their own bouquets. Amongst the store were various house plants and knick knacks. 

“Hi! Can I help you?” A sweet voice caused Rhett to turn around, the air exiting his lungs upon seeing you. 

He could only nod, at a complete loss for words. 

You waited for him, to see if he would expand. When he didn’t, you simply smiled and asked, “What can I do for ya?”

With fumbling hands, Rhett got out the photo from his jacket, “Um…I need help identifying these flowers. They’re the wedding flowers she had and I wanna draw the bouquet as like a….like a gift. Figured it would last longer than getting a bouquet but I uh…I need help identifying them. I wanna look them up so I can get the details right.”

This was going horribly. He should have just bought a magnifying glass off of Amazon or find someone who could digitally restore photos. 

“Do you know where they got married?” You asked, extending your hand out for the photo. 

“Yeah, uh, here in Wabang,” Rhett answered, running a hand up and down the back of his neck, hoping his body was just warm and not turning a bright red. 

“Oh, well that makes it much easier!” Rhett gave you the photo and you motioned for him to follow you to the counter. You got out a book that had a beautiful embossed floral design on the cover.

“I’m glad you know where they got married. It makes it much easier to identify. Also, considering WaBang has hadn’t a floral shop until this year and the nearest one was over an hour away, I’m assuming these are flowers native to Wyoming,” you explained, flipping through the pages. 

You looked up through your lashes, “I can tell you what flowers they are and you can look them up. But am I safe to assume that as an artist, you’d rather have your references in person?”

“Oh uh, I’m not…I’m not an artist,” He mumbled, shaking his head as he shoved his hands into his pockets. A nervous habit he couldn’t seem to break. 

“You’re creating art. Last time I checked, that makes you an artist…..” your voice trailed off, waiting to hear a name. 

“Oh! I’m Rhett. Sorry.” How could he forget to introduce himself? “Yeah, having something I could look at and observe up close would be great.” 

“Well Rhett, I’m more than happy to recreate that bouquet for ya. But I don’t have some of these flowers in stock, so it’ll take some time to order them,” you explained, “Probably like a week or so? If I have your number, I can let you know when they arrive.”

Rhett looked up, eyes wide in disbelief, “You want my number?”

Your nose scrunched up as you nodded, “Yes. I would love to have your number Rhett. Would hate for you to come in and I don’t have what you need.”

Rhett would do it. In fact, he even tried to assure you so. 

“Well, I might need another photo just to ensure I’m accurate. How will I let you know?” You countered. Fuck, you had a great point. 

So Rhett fumbled with getting out his phone, hands shaking as he passed it off to you. 

“I’ll give you my number too if that’s alright. Just so you aren’t wondering who’s texting you.” Your giggle was so endearing, Rhett couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t help but feel his shoulders drop and relax. 

He nodded, a small, slightly lopsided and totally sweet smile, “Yeah, that’s fine.”

You handed Rhett back his phone, “I’ll let you know if I need more info! And when I get them in.”

Rhett nodded, secretly (and seriously) hoping he didn’t look like an idiot with how hard he was smiling. 

“I'll uh, see ya around?” He practically asked. You nodded eagerly, saying your goodbyes as he quickly got out of the store. 

Rhett felt like he could finally breathe again once he was out of your store. That went well, right? He had your number, though it was intended to give updates regarding a gift for his mom. But he also had another chance to see you. Granted, once he was done with this project, he wouldn't have a reason to go into your shop. Maybe for Amy’s birthday, he could get her flowers. 

The vibration of his phone broke Rhett out of his thoughts. It couldn't be….could it? 

His eyes widened when he saw your name attached to the text. He nearly dropped his phone when he read your message. 

I'm glad you finally came in! I've been wanting to meet you ever since the store opened :) 

[bapzap]

odile using a scissors craft and saying a pun as she does because she learned how to do it from siffrin without realizing it and just looking over to see siffrin making the biggest most shit eating grin directly at her in the middle of the fight right before he gets smacked over the head by a sadness because they were so enraptured by making odile say a bad pun they forgot the party was in a fight

[felikatze]

ISAT and Ludonarrative Harmony: Combat is a Storytelling Tool

Or: How Siffrin is stuck in the endgame grind, forever

Please Note: This is primarily aimed at an audience that already played In Stars and Time, because I am bad at explaining things, and it's good to already know what the fuck I'm talking about. I tend to only bring up game elements as I want to talk about them.

Spoilers for.... all of ISAT! Especially Act 5!

(image to show how i feel posting this and as an attention grabber over my wall of text)

To pull a definition of ludonarrative harmony out of a hat, game writer Lauryn Ash defines it as follows:

Ludonarrative harmony is when gameplay and story work together to create a meaningful and immersive experience. From a design implementation perspective, it is the synchronized interactions between in-game actions (mechanics) and in-world context (story).

It is, generally speaking, how well game mechanics work hand in hand with the story. I, personally, think ISAT is an absolute masterclass of it, so I want to take a look at how ISAT specifically uses its battle system to emphasize Siffrin's character arc and create organic story moments. I want you to keep this in mind when I talk here.

So, skills, right? If you've played any turn-based RPG, you know your Fire spells, your "BACKSLASH! AIRSLASH! BACKSLASH!" and the many ways to style those.

Well, what does casting "Fire" say about your character? Not all that much, does it? Perhaps you'll have typical divisions. The smart one is the mage, the big brawny one is your tank, the petite one's the healer. And that's the barebones of ISAT's main party, but it's much more than that.

Every character's style of combat tells you something about them. Odile, the Researcher, is the most well-travelled and knowledgable of the bunch. She's the one with the expertise to keep a cool head and analyze the enemy, yet also able to use all three of the Rock-Paper-Scissors craft types.

To reflect her analytical view of things, all her skill names are just descriptive, the closest to your most bog-standard RPG. "Slow IV" or "Paper III" serve well to describe their purpose. The high number of the skills gives the impression there were three other Slow skills beforehand - fitting, considering the party starts at level 45, about to head into the final dungeon. She's also the oldest, so she's the slowest of the bunch.

Isabea, the Fighter, has all his skills in exclamation points. "YOUR TURN!!!" "SO WEAK!!!" "SMASH!!!" they're straightforward, but excited. He's a purposefully cheerfull guy, so his skills revolve around cheering on his allies. He's absolutely pumped to be here, and you see that from his skill names alone.

Mirabelle, the Housemaiden, is an interesting case. She's by all means the true protagonist of this tale - She's the one "Chosen by the Change God," the only one who survived the King's first attack, the only one immune to his ability to freeze time, the only dual-craft type of the game - just a lot of things. And her skill names reflect that facade she puts on herself - she can do this, she can win! She has to believe it, or else she starts doubting. This is how you get "Jolly Round Rondo" and "Mega Sparkle Heal" or "Adorable Moving Cure." She's styled every bit a sailor scout shojo heroine, and her moveset replicates the naming conventions of "In the name of the moon, I'll punish you!"

Even Bonnie, the Kid, who can't be controlled in combat, has named craft skills. And they very much reflect that Bonnie is, well, a kid. "Wolf Speed Technique" or "Thousand Blows Technique" are very much the phrasings of a child who learned one complicated word and now wants to use it in everything to seem cooler than they are, which is none, because they're twelve.

Siffrin's skills are all puns.

You have an IMMEDIATE feel for personality here. Between "Knife to Meet You!" and "Too Cleaver by Half," you know Siffrin's the type to always crack a joke no matter the situation, slinging witticisms around to put Sonic the Hedgehog to shame. It's just such a clever way to establish character using a game mechanic as old as the entire history of RPGs.

This is only the baseline of the way the combat system feeds into the story, though.

The timeloop, of course, feeds into it. Siffrin is the only character who retains experience upon looping, whereas all other characters are reset to their base level and skills. And it sucks (affectionate).

You're extremely likely to battle more often the earlier in the game you are - after all, you need the experience (for now.) Every party member contributes, and Siffrin isn't all that strong on their own, since they focus on raw scissor type damage with the addition of one speed buff. (Of course it's a speed buff. They're a speedy fucker. Just look at him).

At first, the difference in level between Siffrin and the rest of the group is rather negligible. Just a level or two. Just a bit more speed and attack. And then Siffrin grows further and further apart. Siffrin keeps learning new skills. He gets a healing skill that doubles as an attack boost, taking away from both Mirabelle's and Isabeau's usefullness. He gets Craft skills of every type that even give you two jackpot points instead of one - thus obliterating Odile's niche. Siffrin turns into a one-person army capable of clearing most encounters all on their own.

Siffrin's combat progression is an exact mirror of story progression - as their experience inside the loops grows, they also grow further and further away from their party. The party seems... weaker, slower, clumsier. Always back at their starting point, just as all of their character arcs are reset each loop. Never advancing, always stagnant. And you have Siffrin as the comparison post right next to them.

I also want to point out here a change from Act 2 to Act 3 - Siffrin's battle portrait. He stops smiling.

Battles keep getting easier. This is true both for the reason that Siffrin keeps growing stronger even when all enemies stay the same, but also for the reason that you, the player, learn more about the battle system and the various encounters, until you've learned perfect boss clear strategies just from repetition. Have you ever watched a speedrunner play Pokemon? They've played this game so many times, they could do it blindfolded and sleeping. Your own knowledge and Siffrin's new strength work in tandem to trivialize the game's entire combat system as the game progresses.

(Is it still fun? Playing it over, and over, and over again? Is it?)

You and Siffrin are in sync, your experience making everything trivial.

As time goes on, Siffrin grows to care less and less about performing right for their party and more and more about going fast. A huge moment in his character is marked by the end of Act 3; because of story events I won't delve too deeply into, Siffrin has grown afraid of trying something new. And his options of escape are closing in. They need an answer, and they need it fast. He doesn't have the time or patience to dumb himself down, so you unlock one new skill.

It doesn't occur with level up, or with a quest, or anything at all. At the start of Act 4, it simply appears in Siffrin's Craft skills.

(Just attack.)

No pun. No joke. Just attack. Once you notice, the effect is immediate - here you have it, a clear sign of how jaded Siffrin has become, right at every encounter. And it's a damn good attack, too! The only available attack in the game that deals "massive" damage against all enemies. Because it doesn't add any jackpot points (at least, it's not supposed to), you set up a combo with everybody else, but Siffrin simply tears away at the enemy with wild abandon. Seperated from the rest of the party by the virtue of no longer needing to contribute to team attacks (most of the time. It's still useful if they do, though).

Once again, an aspect of the battle system enhances the degree of separation between Siffrin and the static characters of his play. You're incentivized to separate him, even.

Additionally, there are two more skills to learn. They're the only skills that replace previous skills. You only get them at extremely high levels, the latter of which I didn't even reach on both of my playthroughs.

The first, somewhere in the level 70 range, Rose Printed Glasses, a paper type craft skill, is replaced by Tear You Apart. It's still a pun about paper, but remarkedly more vicious.

The second is even more on the nose. At level 80, In A While, Rockodile!, a rock type craft skill, is replaced by the more powerful Rock Bottom.

I didn't get to level 80. If you do, you pretty much have to do it on purpose. You have to keep going much longer than necessary, as Siffrin is just done. And the last skill he learns is literally called Rock Bottom.

What do I even need to say, really.

Your party doesn't stay static forever, though.

By doing their hangout quests, side quests throughout the loops that result in Siffrin and the character having a heart to heart, all of them unlock what I'd call an "ultimate" skill. You know the type - the character achieved self-fulfillment, hit rank 10 on their confidant, maxed out their skill tree, and received a reward for their trouble.

These skills are massively useful. My favorite is Odile's - it makes one enemy weak to all Craft types for several turns, which basically allows you to invalidate the first and third boss, as well as just clown on the King, especially once Siffrin starts racking up damage.

But the thing is. In Act 3, when you first get them, yeah, they're useful. But... do you need them? After all, they're such a hassle to get. You need to do the whole character quest again, you can't loop forward in the House or you'll lose them. If you want to take these skills to the King, you need to commit. Go the full nine-yards and be nice to your friends and not die and not skip forward or skip back. Which is annoying, right?

Well, I sure did think so during Act 4. After all, a base level party can still defeat the King, just with a few more tricky pieces involved. Siffrin can oneshot almost all basic enemies by the time of Act 4. It's this exact evalutation that you, the player, go through everytime you return to Dormont. Do I want this skill, still? Would it not be faster to go on without it? I'm repeating myself, but that's the thing! That's what Siffrin is thinking, too!

I also want to take a quick moment to note, here - all skills gained from hangouts have art associated with them, which no other skills do. This feature, the nifty art, hammers home these as "special" skills, besides just how they're unlocked.

Siffrin also has one skill with associated art.

Yeah, you guessed it, it's (Just attack.)

At first, helping the characters is tied to a hefty in-game reward, but that reward loses its value, and in return devalues helping Siffrin's friends every loop. It's too tedious for a skill that'll make a boss go by one turn faster. You, the player, grow jaded with the battle system. Grinding experience isn't worth it, everybody's highest levels are already recorded. Fighting bosses isn't worth it, it's much faster to loop forward.

Isn't this what all endgame in video games looks like? You already beat the final boss, and now... what challenge is left? Is there a point to keep playing? Most games will have some post-game content. A superboss to test your skills against, but ISAT doesn't have any of that. You're forever left chasing to the post-game. That's the whole point - to escape the game.

As most games get more difficult as time passes, ISAT only gets easier. The game becomes disinterested in expanding its own mechanics just as I ran out of new things to fight after 100%-ing Kingdom Hearts 3. Every encounter becomes a simple game of "press button to win."

The final boss just takes that one up a notch.

Spoilers for Act 5 ahead boys!

In Act 5, Siffrin utterly loses it. His last possible hope for escape failed him, told him there's nothing she can do, and Siffrin is trapped for eternity. So of course, they go insane and run up the entire House without their party.

This just proves what you already knew - you dont need the party to proceed. Siffrin alone is strong enough. And here, Siffrin has entirely shed the facade of the jokester they used to be. Every single skill now follows the (Just attack.) naming conventions. Your skills are: (Paper.) (Rock.) (Scissors.) (Breathe.)

To the point. Not a moment wasted, because Siffrin can't take a moment longer of any of this. Additionally, his level is set to 99 and his equipment becomes fixed. You can't even pick up items anymore! Not that you needed them at this point anyway, right? Honestly, I never used any items besides the Salty Broth since Act 2, so I stopped picking items up a long time ago. Now you just literally can't.

Something I've not talked about until now - one of the main equipment types in this game are Memories, gained for completing subquests or specific interactions and events. They all by and large have little effects - make Odile's tonics heal more, or have Mirabelle cast a shield at the start of combat. For the hangout events, you also gain an associated memory that boosts the characters' stats by 30. It lets them keep up with Siffrin again! A fresh wind! Finally, your party members feel on par with you again!

...For a time. And just like that, they're irrelevant again, just as helping them gave Siffrin a brief moment of hope that the power of friendship could fix everything.

In Act 5, your memory is set to "Memory of Emptiness." It allows you to loop back in the middle of combat. You literally can't die anymore. Not that Siffrin could've died by this point in the first place, unless you forgot about the King's instant-kill attack. This one memory takes away the false pretense that combat ever had any stakes. Siffrin's level being set to 99 means even the scant exp you get is completely wasted on them. All stakes and benefits from combat have been removed. It has become utterly pointless.

Frustrating, right? It's an artistic frustration, though. It traps you right here in Siffrin's shoes, because he hates that all these blinding Sadnesses are still walking around just as much. It all inspires just a tiny fraction of that deep rolling anger Siffrin experiences here in the player.

And listen, it was cathartic, that one time Siffrin snapped and stabbed the tutorial Sadness, wasn't it? Because who enjoys sitting through the tutorial that often? Siffrin doesn't. I don't, either.

So, since combat is an useless obstacle now meant to inspire frustration, what do you do for a boss? You can't well make it a gameplay challenge now, no. The bosses of Act 5 are an emotional challenge: a painful wait.

First, Siffrin fights the King, alone. This is already nervewracking because of one factor - in every other run, you need Mirabelle's shield skill, or else you're scripted to die. You're actually forced to fight the King multiple times in Act 3, and have to do it at least once in Act 4, though you'll likely do it more. Point is: you know how this fight works.

You know Siffrin's fight is doomed from the outset, but all you can do is keep slinging attacks. Siffrin is enough of a powerhouse to take the King's HP down, what with the healing and buff skills they have now, not to even mention you can just go all in on damage and then loop back.

(And no matter which way you play it, whether you just loop or use strategically, it reflects on Siffrin, too. Has he grown callous enough not even death will stop their mission? Or does he still avoid pain, as much as he can?)

This fight still allows you the artifice of even that much choice, not that it matters. The other shoe drops eventually - Siffrin becomes slower, and slower. Unsettling, considering this game works on an Action Gauge system. You barely get turns anymore. The screen gets darker, and darker. Until Siffrin is frozen in time, just as you knew he had to be, because you know how this encounter works, know it can't be cleared without Mirabelle.

And, then, a void.

Siffrin awakens to nothingness. The only way to tell you've hit a wall is if Siffrin has no walking animation to match your button inputs. You walk, and walk, until you're approached by.... you. The next enemy encounter of the game, and Siffrin's absolute lowest point: Mal Du Pays.

Or, "Homesickness," in english. If you know the game, you know why it's named this, but that's not the point at the moment.

Thing is, where you could damage the King and are damaged in turn, giving you at least a proper combat experience, even if its doomed to fail, Mal Du Pays has no such thing.

You can attack. You can defend. But it is immune to all attacks. And in return, it does nothing. It's common, at least, for undefeatable enemies to be a "survive" challenge, but nope. The entire fight is "press button and wait." Except, remember the previous fight against the King? The entire time, you were waiting for the big instant death attack to drop. That feeling, at least for me, carried forward. I was incredibly on edge just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And, as is a pattern, Siffrin is, too. As Siffrin's attacks fail to connect, they start talking to Mal Du Pays.

But he gets no response, as you get no attacks to strategize around. The wait for anything to happen is utterly agonizing. You and Siffrin are both waiting for something to happen. This isn't a fight. It just pretends to be. It's an utter rugpull, because Siffrin was so undefeatable for most of Act 4 and all of Act 5 so far. It's kind of terrifying!

and it does. It finally does something. Ma Du Pays speaks, in the voice of Siffrin's friends, listing out their deepest fears. I think it's honestly fantastic. You're forced to just sit here and listen to Siffrin's deepest doubts, things you know the characters could not say because it references the timeloops they're all utterly unaware of. This is all Siffrin, talking to himself. And all you, all Siffrin, can do, is keep wailing away on the enemy to no effect whatsoever.

So of course this ends with Siffrin giving up. What else can you do?

And then Siffrin's friends show up and unfreeze them and it's all very cool yay. The pure narrative scenes aren't really the main focus but I want to point out here:

A) Mirabelle is in the first party slot here, referencing how she's the de facto protagonist, and Bonnie fills in the fourth slot left empty, which shows all characters uniting to save Siffrin

B) this is the only instance of the other party members having act specific battle icons: they're all smiling brightly, further pushed by the upbeat music

C) the reflecting shield Mirabelle uses to freeze the King uses a variation of her hangout skill cut in, marking it as her true "final" skill and giving the whole fight a more climatic feeling.

It's also a short gameplay sequence with Siffrin utterly uninvolved in the battle. You can't even see them onscreen. But... it feels warm, doesn't it? Everybody coming together. Siffrin doesn't have to fight anymore.

At last, the King is defeated. Siffrin and co. make for the Head Housemaiden, to have her look at Siffrin's sudden illness. Siffrin is utterly exhausted, famished, running a fever. And this isn't unexpected - after all, their skills in Act 5 had no cooldown. For context, instead of featuring any sort of MP system, all skills work on a cooldown basis, where a character can't use it for a certain number of turns. The lowest cooldown is actually Siffrin's Knife to Meet You, which has a cooldown of 1. In universe, this is reasoned as the characters needing a break from spamming craft in order to not exhaust themselves.

Siffrin's skills in Act 5 having no cooldown/being infinitely spammable isn't a sign of their strength - it's a sign that he refuses to let himself rest in order to rush through as fast as possible.

Moving on, Siffrin panics when seeing the Head Housemaiden, because seeing her means one thing: the end. Prior to this in the game, every single time you beat the King, the loop ends when you talk to the Head Housemaiden.

Reality breaks down, the whole shebang. It's here that Siffrin realizes - they don't want the loops to end, because the end of their journey means their family will leave, and he'll be alone again. The happiest time of his life will be over.

Siffrin goes totally ballistic, to say the least.

As it turns out (and was heavily foreshadowed narratively), Siffrin has been using Wish Craft to subconciously cause the timeloop because of their abandonment issues. It's rather predictable if you paid attention to literally anything, but it's extremely notable how heavily Siffrin is paralleled to the King, the antagonist they swore to kill by themself at the start of Act 5. The King wants to freeze Vaugarde in time because it is, in his mind, "perfect," for accepting him after he lost his home - a backstory he shares with Siffrin.

Siffrin has become the exact antagonist he swore to kill, and it's shown by how the next fight utterly flips everything on its head.

Siffrin is the final boss.

In a towering form made of stars, Siffrin looks down at their friends. His face is terrified, because of his internal conflict; he can't hurt his friends, but he can't let them go, either. The combat prompt is simply changed to "END IT!"

This fight is similar to the previous, in that you just need to wait a certain number of turns until its over. However, this time, it's not dreadful suspense. It's... confusion, and hesitance.

You have two options for combat: Attack your friends, or attack yourself.

And... you don't really want to do either, I think. I certainly don't. But what else can you do? It's Siffrin's desires clashing in full force. Attack your friends, and force them to stay? Or attack yourself, and let them go safely without you?

Worth noting, here - when you attack Siffrin's friends, you can't harm them. Isabeau will shield all attacks. And when you attack yourself, Mirabelle will heal you back to full. And the friends don't... do anything, either. How could they? Occasionally, Mirabelle heals you and Isabeau shouts words of motivation, but the main thing is...

(Your friends don't know what to do.)

None of them want to harm Siffrin. Both sides simply stare at each other, resolute in their conviction but unwilling to end it with violence. It's of note that this loop, the last one, is the only loop where the King isn't killed. Just frozen. And now here is Siffrin, clamoring for the same eternity the King was. Of course everything ends in a tearfilled conversation as Siffrin sees their friends won't leave him, even after the journey ends, but I still have to appreciate this moment.

Siffrin is directly put in the position with their friends as his enemies, forced to physically reckon that keeping them in this loop is an act of violence, against both their friends, and against himself.

It's a happy ending. But... what does it mean?

Of course, ISAT is obviously about the fear of change. Siffrin is afraid of the journey ending, and of being alone. However, ISAT is also a game about games. Siffrin is playing the same game, over and over, because it's comforting. It's familiar. It's nice, to know exactly what happens next. These characters might just be predictable lines of dialogue, but... they feel like friends. Have you ever played a game, loved it, put countless hours into it, but you never finished it? Because you just couldn't bear to see it end? For the characters to leave your life, for there to be a void in your heart where the game used to be?

After all, maybe it became part of your routine! You play the game every day, slowly chipping away at it for weeks at a time. For me, I beat ISAT in four days. It utterly consumed me during this time. I had 36 hours of playtime by the end. Yeah, in that week, I did not do much more than play ISAT.

And once i beat it, i beat it, again. I restarted the game to see the few scenes I missed, most specifically the secret boss I won't talk about here. I... couldn't let go of the game yet. I wanted to see every scrap I could. I still do. I'm writing this, in part because I still do. It's scary to let go.

Ever heard the joke term of "Postgame Depression?" It's when you just beat a game, and you're suddenly sad. Maybe because the ending affected you emotionally and you need to process the feelings it invoked, or you search for something that can now fill your time with it gone.

The game ends, for real this time, the last time you talk to the Head Housemaiden. But Siffrin gets... scared. What if everything loops back again? And so, his family offers to hold his hand. They face the end, together.

For all loops, including the ending, you never see what happens after. After they leave the loop for good. Because the loop is the game itself. It's asking you to trust that life goes on for these characters, and it holds your hand as it asks you to let go. There's a reason for Siffrin's theater metaphors. He is the actor, and the director, asking everyone to do it over one more time. He's a character within the game, and its player.

There's a reason I talked about endgame content. This, the way it all repeats, there's nothing new, difficulty and stakes bleed away as you snap the game over your knee - it's my copy of White 2 with two hundred hours in it. It's me playing Fire Emblem Awakening in under 3 hours while skipping every cutscene. Are you playing for the sake of play, for the sake of indulging in your memories, because you're afraid of the hole it'll leave when you stop?

Of note: the narrative never condemns Siffrin for unwittingly causing their own suffering. He's a victim of circumstance. It's seen as endearing, even, that Siffrin loves their friends to the point of rather seeing the world destroyed than them gone. But Siffrin is also told: we'll stay with you for now, but we'll part ways eventually. And one day, you'll have to be okay with it.

Stop draining the things you love of every ounce of enjoyment just because you're afraid of what happens next. I'm not saying to never play your favorite games again. Playing ISAT a second time, I still had a lot of fun! I saw so many new things I didn't before, and I enjoyed myself immensely, reading the same dialogue over and over. But... it makes me look at other games I love and still play, and makes me ask... is this still fun? Do I still need to play this game to enjoy it? Even writing this is an afterimage of my enjoyment, but it's a new way to interact with the game, to analyze it through this lens. Fuck, man, I write fanfiction. Look at me.

All of this, fanart, fanfic, analysis, is a way to prolong that enjoyment without making yourself suffer for it. Without just going through the motions of enjoyment without actually experiencing any. But one day, the thing you love won't be fun to talk and write and draw about. And it's okay. You'll have new things to love. I promise.

In the end.... I'm certain I'll replay ISAT one day. Between great writing, art, puzzles and unresolved mysteries, it's my shoe-in for game of the year.

But I won't replay it for quite some time. I've had enough, for now, so I let my love take other forms.

Siffrin is never condemned, because love is no evil. Be it love for another person, or for a game. And please, if you're overempathetic - it's still a game, at the end of the day. The great thing about games is that you can always boot them up again, no matter how long its been.

A circle within a circle indeed.

To summarize:

The repetitiveness of ISAT's combat, lack of new enemies, and Siffrin's ever increasing strength eventually allows you to snap the combat over your knee, rendering it irrelevant and boring. Though this may seem counterproductive at first, it perfectly mirrors how Siffrin has also grown bored with these repeated encounters and views them only as an obstacle to get past. The reflection of Siffrin's own tiredness with the player's annoyance increases the compassion the player has for Siffrin as a character.

Additionally, the endgame state of the combat system serves as commentary on the state of a favorite game played too often, much like how Siffrin has unwittingly trapped themself in the loop. Despite the game having no more challenge or content left to over, a player might return to their favorite game anyway, solely to try and recreate the early experience of actually having fun with it. This ties into ISAT's metanarrative about the fear of change and refusal to let go of comfort even when the object (here, your favorite video game) offering that comfort has become utterly bereft of any substance to actually engage with. Playing for the sake of playing, with no actual investment to keep going besides your own memories.

Later on, stripping away even the pretense of strategy for a "press button and wait" format of final bosses highlights the lack of options at Siffrin's disposal and truly forces the player into their shoes. Truly, the only way to win is to stop playing.

[bil-daddy]

I also scissors too when @uziraphale's in the right mood and configuration. Not sure if that's made the paper, though.

As a collective, I feel like we don’t talk enough about how badass these opening lines are in the Land of Uz minisode:

Like hellooo ??

God has abandoned you, the God who claims to love you, who demands your praise..

I remember I was SHOOK when I first watched this and was thinking “who is crowley talking to and what is happening?!” (And ofc laughing endearingly - with some confusion - when the subject was revealed lol)

(On a deeper level though those opening lines to The Land of Oz actually are insane and the parallels I could draw on how it applies to crowley’s own fall from grace?? INSANE)

Alas - BILDAD THE SHUHITE ROCKS‼️🔥🗣️

<3

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Rhetorical Devices

These devices, sometimes called “figures of speech," appear in all speech and writing (you can find them in advertising, political speeches, and newspapers, as well as in essays, letters, and poems).

EXAMPLES. It helps, if you wish to give a brief description of what a writer is doing at a given moment, to know some of these shorthand terms for frequent practices.

Alternative Ordering - "A man that looks on glass, / On it may stay his eye, / Or, if he pleaseth, through it pass, / And then the heaven espy."

Analogy (comparison of A and B) - "No more be grieved at that which thou hast done: / Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud."

Anaphora (repetition of opening word) - "All shuffle there, all cough in ink, / All wear the carpet with their shoes, / All think what other people think; / All know the man their neighbor knows."

Anticlimax - "In silk, in crepes, in Garters, and in rags."

Antithesis (opposition of A and B) - "For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, / Who are as dark as hell, as black as night."

Apposition (list of different formulations of the same thing) - "The Mind of Man, / My haunt, and the main region of my song."

Catalogue - "The leaden-eyed shark, the walrus, the turtle, the hairy sea-leopard."

Chiasmus (an X-like arrangement) - "By brooks too broad for leaping / The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lept girls are sleeping / In fields where roses fade." [books : boys :: girls : fields]

Hierarchical Ordering - "Such sweet neglect more taketh me / Than all th' adulteries of art."

Metaphor (comparison without "like" or "as") - "Church bells beyond the stars heard, the soul's blood, / The land of spices; something understood."

Metonymy (assemblage by parts) - "Four beating wings, two beaks, a swirling mass."

Onomatopoeia (imitative sound) - "And murmuring of innumerable bees."

Paradox (union of dissimilar qualities) - "There is in God, some say, / A deep but dazzling darkness."

Parallelism - "These are thy wonders, Lord of Power . . . / These are thy wonders, Lord of Love."

Periphrasis (circumlocution) - "The Peer now spreads the glittering forfex wide" [= opens scissors]

Personification (an abstraction made into a person) - "Love is swift of foot, / Love's a man of war."

Pun (a play on two meanings of one word) - "Therefore I lie with her, and she with me, / And in our faults by lies we flattered be."

Quotation - "My flesh began unto my soul in pain, / 'Sickness cleave my bones.'"

Simile (comparison with "like" or "as") - "Like as the waves make toward the pebbled shore, / So do our minutes hasten to their end."

Synecdoche (use of the part for the whole) - "Diadems — drop — and Doges — surrender."

Zeugma (two dissimilar objects of same verb) - "Or stain her honor, or her new brocade."

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[uovoc]

miscellaneous Scissor Seven stuff that got lost in translation:

Seven's Qi-Controlled Scissors (以气御剪 yǐqìyùjiǎn) is a pun on 以气御剑 yǐqìyùjiàn, the flying sword trope that's popular in xianxia

In season 1, the country of Stan, 斯坦国 Sītǎnguó, was a reference to Albert Einstein (斯坦 sītǎn is the "stein" half of Einstein's name, 爱因斯坦 Àiyīnsītǎn), which is why the Stannians walk around with Einstein decals on their chests. For reasons I have not been able to find, the country's name was changed to 斯特国 Sītèguó from season 2 onward.

Xuanwu (玄武国 Xuánwǔguó) is literally just Mysterious Martial Country

The Zan in Ouyang Zan (欧阳赞) is a reference to "liking" online content (点赞 diǎnzàn) via clicking the 👍 button. His school (赞拳 Zàn Quán) is the "Like" Fist. Hence the upbeat attitude and use of thumbs

The "Blue" (青) in Blue Phoenix (青凤) means, depending on context, green, blue, blue-green, green-black, pale, and/or vaguely natural... ish colors. Accordingly, a lot of his props and SFX are more of a turquoise green than strictly blue