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yelenasbraid · 2 months ago

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take a breather — joe burrow

summary — its a few days after the loss to the chiefs and you and joe decide to go out for dinner. unfortunately, there’s kc fans everywhere

warnings — fem!reader, established relationship, reader gets defensive and starts gets in a fight, fluff, some suggestive comments, mean comments, implied smut

note — not every chiefs fan is like the one in this fic, i know that, but for the sake of this fic the reader interacts with a pretty mean one. also this is SO long y’all oops

THE LOSS TO THE CHIEFS was as shocking as it was devastating. for a while, you thought they were safe. you believed that the bengals would win against the chiefs, their longstanding rivalry. joe talked about how excited he was, he talked about how he was ready to take them on after the grueling practice they had.

so, when the chiefs won by one point, everyone’s heart dropped. anger and frustration swirled around in your head, the cold feeling of sadness making it a sour cocktail. it was a good game, filled with many good highlights and great plays, but you knew that joe was already beating himself up about it.

you tried your best to be there for him, reassure him and help build his confidence back up. the night after the game was the hardest, especially since you both were battling intense emotions.

flashback

the silence that fell between you was thick. you tried your best to remain neutral, to be a grounding force for joe. being home didn’t change that.

he didn’t bother speaking to you as he walked in, making a beeline for the stairs. you stopped in your tracks, trying your hardest not to cry.

“please talk to me,” you begged him softly. you knew that joe took things at his own pace, which normally meant alone. you’ve had to help him realize that he’s not alone, and that you could help share the burden.

“i’m not in the mood for talking, y/n,” he informed you, barely looking at you. you bit your lip and flicked your eyes up to the ceiling to stop the oncoming tears.

“do you want anything to eat?” you asked him, walking into the kitchen.

“no, i don’t.” he answered shortly. you nodded, and as he went to go up the stairs, you went to follow him.

“i want to be alone, just leave me alone, y/n,” he snapped, turning his eyes to you, eyes that were iced over. as much as you hated to do it, leaving him to his head, you inhaled and exhaled slowly.

“ok, i’ll be down here if you need me,” you told him, barely evoking a response out of him. so, that was that.

flashback end

joe did apologize for his behavior, swearing he was going to try his best to keep you with him. ever since that night, he’s done just that. he’s confided in you about more than he ever has, and you were proud of him for being vulnerable.

ever since that night, he’s also been clingy. he never wants you to feel the way you felt that night, the way he made you feel.

“we’re going on a date tonight,” joe announced as he walked in the door from practice. you looked up at him from your spot on the couch, raising an eyebrow.

“what?”

“we’re going on a date tonight, you know, the thing normal couples do,” he playfully reminded you. you smirked, putting a bookmark in the book you were reading and closed it. it was refreshing to see his eyes lit up, to see how he glowed with a renewed sense of hope.

“alright, where are we going, ya know, as a totally normal couple?” you played along with the joke, standing up from the couch and walking over to him.

“there’s a nice place downtown, the one we always say we want to go to but never do because of how busy we are,” he excitedly told you. seeing his smile again after the two losses was refreshing, but it also just made you fall even more in love with him.

“oh yeah, the place that apparently has really good burgers,” you smiled up at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “you asking me on a date, burrow?”

“why yes i am,” joe chirped. he was chipper, and you knew that he was taking the losses hard, but you also knew that he couldn’t feel down for long. joe knew his job for the next game, and he was going to finish it.

“then i accept,” you smirked, and in response joe leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips.

“good. i’m gonna get a shower, then the bathroom is all yours. we’ll leave around 6,” he told you as he made his way towards the stairs. his timeframe gave you about 2 hours to get ready, which was plenty of time.

“sounds good,” you replied, feeling butterflies build in your gut. despite having dated since your time at lsu, you still got butterflies whenever you and joe would go on a date. you guessed that feeling never goes away.

—

about an hour and half later, joe is dressed and ready sitting on the edge of the bed. you, on the other hand, are putting final touches on your outfit for the evening. it was something breathable, but cute. you put your earrings in and fluffed your hair. once you were happy with your look, you applied your perfume and put on your shoes.

“damn mamas,” joe commented as he watched you emerge from the bathroom. a blush crept up on your cheeks as you walked towards him.

“hope that’s a good thing,” you hummed as he stood up. he was dressed in a black button up, jeans, and platform van-type shoes.

“oh it definitely is,” he mused, leaning down and pressing a soft and quick kiss to your lips. he knew he’s been clingy, but he also knew you didn’t mind. ever since he got snappy with you, he’s never wanted to sound like that ever again. be knew there’d be losses, especially tough ones, but he needed to work on how he processed through it. he couldn’t drag you through the mud too.

“mmm good,” you hummed. it was in that moment you realized that you could stay with him all night, in that bedroom, on that bed and not go on a date. but, dates were rare during the season, and plus dates were fun. you and joey always had fun on your dates.

“we should get going, huh?” joe asked, almost sounding disappointed.

“i’m hungry, so yeah,” you chuckled, making joe crack that beautiful smile of his. you both walked out to the car, joe opening your door of course, and he got in the driver’s seat. he pulled out of the driveway and headed towards the restaurant.

—

the restaurant wasn’t packed, but it had a decent amount of people in it. the hum of conversations drew you in, but what pulled you in further was the sweet smell of food.

you two were quickly seated and ordered your drinks. you looked at the menu, browsing the different options.

“this all looks amazing,” you commented as your eyes saw a pasta section of the menu.

“if i were like, infinitely hungry, i’d get the whole menu,” joe agreed, and you snorted.

“ok, joey,” you laughed, shaking your head.

“what? think about it, if you never got full and have an infinite amount of space in your stomach, you could realistically have several meals in a sitting,” his eyes grew wide with this theory, and you loved whenever he got like this. it was the cutest — and hottest — thing ever, well, for the most part.

“ok, but what about your intestines? they’d be begging for mercy,” you replied as your drinks were settled in front of you. you ordered your choices of meals, gave the waitress your menus, and continued talking.

“ok well in a perfect world they wouldn’t be,” he replied, sass evident in his tone. you laughed, shaking your head as you took a sip of your water.

“i need to pee, i’ll be back,” you informed him, standing up from the booth.

“speaking of intestines,” he commented, earning a glare.

“that’s your bladder,” you whispered as you walked off. joe only rolled his eyes as he sipped his water. he watched as you disappeared into the bathroom, and patiently waited upon your return.

a few minutes later, he caught movement in his peripheral and he flicked his eyes over, hoping to see you. he did, but with a very different expression on your face.

“excuse me?” you seethed, your eyes wide with anger. the girl you were standing in front of had the audacity to speak ill of joe in front of you, but also to speak ill of you. in front of you.

“you heard me the first time, i said your boyfriend would have played better if he’d been getting taken care of at home,” the girl replied. it only enraged you further, especially since she had no right to be involved in yours and joe’s private life.

“and what does your boyfriend do? sit at home and criticize the guys he’ll never be?” your words were just as venomous, your adrenaline driving you even further.

“for all i care, i hope he tears a ligament again. all this hype around joe burrow needs to stop, or maybe he just needs to retire already,” she kept going, and you’ve never seen red before until that moment. this girl had no idea the rehab joe went through, the mental blocks he had to overcome just to get to this point.

words weren’t enough to voice your anger, the rage that fueled you. you laughed, allowing some of that tension to release, but also because you thought it was hilarious some random woman was criticizing joe burrow.

you took a step towards her, your hands curling into fists. you saw what joe went through, you knew of the dark place he went to after his injury. she didn’t, and it pissed you off that she wanted him to go back there again.

“i hope he has another season ending injury, so for once, other teams can have a chance and stop listening to bengals fans’ whining,” she continued on, and the more she did, the more her words added fuel to the fire. it was the final thread in a rubber band, and you snapped.

you shoved her away from you, your eyes hard and angry. you went for another, your muscles tensing to make sure this one hurt, but strong arms pulled you back. you knew it was joe because of his scent wafting over you, but you didn’t much care.

“don’t you dare,” you growled, fighting against the hold joe had on you. your hands tried to pry joe’s arms off of you, but your attempts were futile. what distracted you for just a moment was the feeling of his muscles rippling under his skin as you went to shove him off.

“i bet you got scared when that helmet came off, huh? well, i wasn’t,” she kept mouthing off, and you knew she was doing it on purpose. she wanted to see how far you’d go.

“it’s nice to say that when your team gets paid by the refs to win games!” you hissed, body tensing with every word. neither of you were going to back down, and joe could see that. he’s never seen you this angry, he’s never seen you go after someone like that.

“walk away, love,” he calmly told you, whispering in your ear. he moved to stand beside you, using one arm to hold you place instead of two. you strained against him, anger radiating from every pore. your straining made him eventually wrap his other arm around you again.

“y/n,” he looked down at you, and even though you weren’t trying to plow through him, you weren’t exactly backing down. it was admirable, really, how you went to war for him. you didn’t have to, but you did. you would defend him until your dying breath, even though he never asked for that. he just didn’t want you to get hurt.

“listen to your boyfriend y/n, this is a fight you’d lose anyway,”

“you’re not helping,” joe snapped, turning his eyes towards the girl. she didn’t seem to get the memo, not entirely caring that joe was addressing her. you, however, did notice. the way his jaw was clenched, the way his muscles were contracted, it was hot.

“why’s that?” you retaliated, anger still coursing through your veins. joe was trying to keep you from getting away from him. it wasn’t helping that the other girl kept moving towards you.

“because, unlike your boyfriend, you’re too pussy to fight anyone,” she was so confident it killed you. you managed to slip out of joe’s grasp, lunging for this girl, but joe caught you by the bicep. he drew you back, pressed a firm hand to your chest and walked you back.

“that’s enough,” he sternly told you, thankful you were walking with him. your eyes flicked to meet his, just for a moment, and in that moment you were the most turned on you’d been that whole day. feeling his hand firmly but gently guide you back, hearing the sternness in his words, it made that all too familiar ache begin to take hold in your stomach.

that feeling didn’t last long though. your irritation and anger came back the second you made eye contact with the girl again, wearing that obnoxious red jersey. you wanted to say something back to the girl, but no words were coming to your mind. your emotions were all over the place as joe walked you back. you watched the girl as her own group walked her away. they should’ve done that earlier.

you two left the restaurant, and once you were alone, you slipped away from joe’s grip.

“what the hell was that?” joe asked, now facing you, “i have never seen you that angry,”

“you heard what she said! she-she was saying all of these things about you, about how she wished you snapped your ligament again and retired! i couldn’t just let that slide!” you argued back, your adrenaline still on a high.

“you could have! people say stupid shit!”

“i saw what you went through! i’ve seen you rise above it, i’ve seen you grow and to have her laugh in the face of that is disgusting!” you defended, tears now pooling in your eyes. you watched as he processed, and you felt a tear drip down your cheek. there was a beat of silence. joe sighed, walked up to you and wiped the escaped tear with the pad of his thumb.

“you didn’t have to defend me, but, thank you for doing so. as much as i appreciate it, and don’t mind at all seeing you get fired up, i just don’t want you to get hurt,” he hummed, cupping your cheek with his hand. you sniffled, feeling your body crash from the adrenaline rush.

“i know,” you exhaled, “but next time we play the chiefs, we need to pummel them into the ground,” you sniffled, and joe just chuckled, bringing you into his arms.

“we will,” he promised, kissing the top of your head, “were you really scared when my helmet came off?” he asked, and you looked up at him in disbelief.

“yes, i was terrified,” you admitted, burying your head in his chest. you knew the likely hood of a concussion increased just because he played football, but you knew how scary they were. you’ve heard of too many players who’s seasons ended because of a concussion, or even worse, their lives ended.

“i’m ok, i promise,” he assured you. as he held you, his remembered the look you gave him earlier in the restaurant.

“what was that look for earlier?” he asked.

“what look?” you mumbled against his chest.

“that look, the look you give whenever you’re feeling a certain way,” he answered, causing you to part from him. he didn’t miss it, how could he? he’s seen that look several times before, but he’s never seen it in this context.

“oh…”

“oh what?” he chuckled, watching as your cheeks flushed.

“it’s nothing, just pure emotion,” you lied. you were feeling a number of things, and arousal was just one of them.

“you liked that, huh?” joe gave you a cocky smirk, the kind that could get you into trouble. his tone didn’t help either.

“oh leave me alone,” you playfully shoved him, walking towards the car. he wrapped his arm around your waist, kissing the side of your head.

“i would be lying if i said i wasn’t also turned on,” he hummed in your ear, breaking the hard exterior you had on.

“is that so?” you mused, casting a look up at him, “remember how it feels to not be sore, love, because after tonight you will be,” you hummed, your eyes darkening with desire. your tone sent him into overdrive, not to mention your confidence. he wasn’t sure if he was going to make it home or not. he wouldn’t be necessarily complaining if he didn’t.

he was in for a long night.

YOWZERS this is long. not sure how i feel about it BUT it’s probably the longest one i’ve written, so c’est la vie. but what inspired this was joe holding back ja’marr at the game on sunday and i went crazy with it. enjoy!

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagines #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine

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upsidedowngrass · 2 years ago

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fun fact qbt me is that i like to make sure i rewatch hfjone eps frequently. i have sooooo much memorized. but i cannot allow my character interpretations, my narrative analysis, etc, to become innacurate

#anyway also hitting my brain w a bat #cus i need to finish some pieces SO bad #like the request i got and that one i said i think would evoke a response #the issue is that im not actually 100% happy w how the julien request came out #i think the shading style could use some adjustments . its a little stiff too #but also i wanna have fun and not worry too much abt it #idk man!!!!!#maybe i should post more unpolished art #bc i def see that get a lot of love bc polished pieces are harder to retain like.#the emotion and movement n stuff in #rough versions just have that tone to them yknow #but too rough and it just looks unfinished!!!!!!! a troubling delemma #anyway. good morning

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esouliie · 3 months ago

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… you should stay in my good graces⋆𐙚₊

(actress!wanda x fem!reader)

tags | romantic asf, a little hurt/comfort, wanda maximoff needs a hug, reader is a reassuring simp, together? they’re both gross horny freaks :3 (18+)

It’s late, around 9 PM, and the room is dimly lit, casting long shadows that dance along the walls. You’re lounging on the couch of the hotel suite, feeling the gentle buzz of the wine you’ve been sipping. She’s there with you, still dressed in her suit for her upcoming movie’s press junket. Her hair, now a shade of molten chocolate, falls loosely around her face, with random pieces tucked behind her ears. She’s wearing minimal makeup, despite her lips being coated in a subtle reddish oil, and her eyes shimmer gold with every bat of her lashes.

The evening has been easygoing since arriving back, a perfect blend of quiet conversation and shared silences as your girlfriend winds down from being social. You watch her as she took another sip of her wine, her eyes glinting in the soft light. Suddenly, she sets her glass down and rises from the couch with a playful glint in her eye. "I want to play a song for you," she announces with a smile.

You watch as she heads for the old record player tucked in the corner, a vintage piece that had caught her eye the moment you checked in last night. The suite modern charm was evident in every detail, from the heated floors to the spacious kitchen, but the record player, with its polished wood and brass accents, seemed to be the centerpiece of the room. Wanda had been drawn to it immediately, her fingers tracing the smooth surface, a look of nostalgia softening her features.

She flips through the small collection of vinyl records stacked beside it, her brow furrowing in concentration as she searches for the perfect track. After a moment, she lets out a triumphant little sound, pulling out a record with an old, faded cover. The worn label reveals the artist: Sam Cooke. She handles it with reverence, lowering it onto the turntable with a practiced hand. There's a small, satisfied hum as she brings the needle down, and the soft crackle that follows fills the room like the first breath of life. For a moment, everything is still, suspended in the quiet, until the first sweet, soulful notes of "Cupid" drift into the air.

The melody is timeless, a rich cascade of sound that wraps around you like an old, familiar blanket. You recognise the tune, though it's been years since you last heard it. The notes are tender and full of emotion, evoking memories of a time long past yet strangely present in this moment. The room, bathed in the warm glow of the lamps adorned around the space, seems to swell with the sound, the music curling around the furniture, the walls, and finally, the two of you, as if drawing you closer together.

Wanda turns back to you, her eyes bright with anticipation, waiting for your reaction. She knows you love this song, and she loves it too, perhaps even more.

“I love this song.” She reaches out a hand, gesturing for you to join her. You stand, taking it without hesitation, feeling the warmth of her fingers intertwining with yours. The music flows between you like a current, and Wanda begins to sway, drawing you into the rhythm. Her voice, soft and unguarded, rises to meet the melody as she sings along with Cooke:

“Cupid, draw back your bow...”

With her eyes locked on yours, the world around you fades into the background. The record spins, the music lilting through the room as you both begin to dance, a slow, easy movement that feels as natural as breathing.

You follow her lead, letting the song guide your steps. Wanda’s voice, sweet and slightly off-key, weaves through the music, adding her own touch to the tune. There's something so intimate, so pure in the way she sings to you, for you, her voice a quiet confession wrapped in melody.

“You know," she murmurs, her voice a soft whisper against the instruments, "I've never felt like this with anyone before."

"I feel the same, Wands. Every time I'm with you, it's like the world finally makes sense."

She tilts her head down slightly, her eyes searching yours. "Do you ever wonder if this is too good to be true? Like, maybe we're dreaming, and one day we'll wake up, and it’ll all be gone?"

You stop swaying for a moment, cupping her face gently in your hands. "No, Wanda. This is real. We’re real." You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, feeling her relax into your touch, “You’re never getting rid of me, baby.”

Her hands move to your back, pulling you closer, as if she needs to feel you, to confirm that you’re really here. "Promise me," she whispers, her voice trembling just slightly.

You press your lips to hers again, a gentle, lingering kiss that holds all the promises you can’t yet put into words. “I promise,” you whisper against her, “let me show you.”

Her worries melt away, replaced by a deepening trust as your hands run through her hair, pulling her impossibly closer. The pressure of your lips increases, growing bolder as you feel her responding to you, her own lips parting slightly, inviting you to explore further. A soft sigh escapes her, and it echoes in the stillness around you, a sound that sends a shiver of warmth through your entire body.

The kiss grows, building from that initial, tender connection into something more passionate, more urgent. You can feel the tension in your chest, a yearning that rises and swells with every heartbeat, driving you to close any remaining distance between you. Your other hand slides to the small of her back, pulling her closer. Unable to feel the heat of her body through the thick suit jacket, your hands trail inside the material, mapping the thin waist of the taller woman.

She’s wearing nothing underneath.

You deepen the kiss further, your tongue brushing against her lower lip, seeking entrance, a silent request that she grants as her lips part further, allowing you in. Her hands find their way to your shoulders, gripping lightly as she leans in. The kiss is no longer just gentle; it’s filled with a fervent need, an unspoken desire that’s been building between you since the beginning of the night. Since you first saw her in this outfit. She’s kissing you back with equal intensity, every movements matching yours, the both of you lost in this moment, hands groping all and everything you can.

“I want these off,” Wanda husks, pupils blown entirely, as she hurriedly pulls at the zip of your jeans, “… now.”

You don’t bother helping the older woman, as you fling your arms around her to pull the jacket off her toned shoulders, a swift competition to see who can undress who first. You managed to discard the jacket before she can shove her hand down your pants, your fingers already groping at her chest. Your lips making their way down from her neck down to her breasts, lapping at the pebbled nipples before you.

With her hand finally between your legs, stroking ever so languidly, she guides you back towards the couch. You’re too distracted to notice the change until you’re on your back and she’s on top of you. Her tongue forces its way into your mouth before you could protest, hips doing most of the work appeasing you, as she thrusts ever so slowly. Giving up, your legs fall open, calves wrapping around the brunette as if to keep her flush against you.

The kiss comes to an end, much to your dismay, with a singular strand of saliva hanging between you both.

“You’re such a brat. You joke, hands smoothing over her ass, pulling forward.

“Says the one who was racing to undress me first.” She immediately retorts, and you push your luck, retaliating by smacking her ass. She gasps before cutting you a sharp look. Grinding harder against you, her head bends to kiss along your pulse. Her canines sink into the soft skin, a sharp sting following closely before her warm tongue laps along the bruised skin.

“Do that again and I won’t fuck you.”

Your mouth opens a few times, but you weren't sure what to say. You only managed a please, which felt pathetic even to your own ears. The laughing quirk of her lips revealed how little Wanda takes you seriously, and why would she? You were already trembling, unable to form a single thought.

So easy.

Turning your head so she could press her lips against yours, she was licking into your mouth, just separating enough so you didn't suffocate, and even then, it did nothing to help the threads of spit remaining between you both.

But it didn't appear that she was going to stop anytime soon, as her fingers trail up your thigh until she reaches your underwear. Her lips twist into a smile at the feeling of the damp fabric, molding to you. Lithe digits sneak inside, spreading your lips, grazing just under your clit and then down low. “This all for me, baby?”

The feeling so overwhelming, you’re unable to reply. Wanda merely laughs before pressing into you, revelling in how easily you swallowed her fingers, hips moving in time with her. The rooms fills with sounds of breathless moans and her fingers fucking you, her other hand snaked under your top to pinch at your nipples.

“Feels so good.” You manage to stutter out, and bring her down to your lips. Once again, locked in another fervent kiss, moans spilling into her mouth.

A knock on the door jolts you out of your reverie, lips smacking as you pull away, eyes drawn towards the source. Panic surges in your chest as you remember earlier Wanda had invited some of her cast mates to your suite for a games night. Helplessly, you attempt to get your girlfriend to stop, your hand curling around her wrist pumping into you, but she didn’t. Instead, she speeds up, fingers now sliding in at a bruising pace in comparison to her earlier slower one. Your knees were trembling, cunt pulsing around her rigid knuckles, as her thumb circles your clit desperately.

“Gotta be quick, baby,” She huffs, energy depleting with each thrust, whispering terms of endearment as you convulsed, muffling your sounds of pleasure into her neck. Her chest heaves, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on her skin as she hovers over you.

You couldn't help the way your body shudders, so sensitive, every nerve ending screaming for her to stop and yet for her to continue. Trembling a little less now, her fingers slip out of you cautiously, soothing along your flushed skin despite being coated in you. She studies the room accessing the damage before turning back towards you, noticing you’re already looking up at her, the buzz of your orgasm fading away slightly.

To be honest, you didn’t want games night to happen.

You wanted to spend the rest of your night wrapped up in your girlfriend’s arms, listening to her steady heartbeat as she held you close. But you knew Wanda was shy, and in this industry, she struggled to make friends. It was a hard world to navigate, full of people who wanted something from her or who couldn’t look past her fame to see the wonderful person she was beneath it all. You didn’t want to get in the way of that, all because you were feeling needy and wanting her sole attention. It was her night. Wanda deserved to have friends, people she could laugh with, people who would remind her that not everyone wanted something from her. So, despite the ache in your chest, you pushed your feelings aside, biting down on your lip, trying to suppress the soft whimper that threatens to escape, but she notices.

She always notices.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she coos, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, and then your cheek, and then your nose. Her lips were warm, comforting, grounding you back to the present. “You did so well, sweetheart.” She leans down placing one last kiss – this time upon your lips, “You know I love you, right?”

You nod, a shy smile curling at the corner of your mouth. “I love you too.”

“Good,” she hums softly, her voice carrying a note of finality. “Now, come on,” her hand behind your back guiding you to your feet, “help me tidy up?”

You groan playfully, your muscles protesting as you try to follow her lead. You wobble when you stand, a reminder of just how thoroughly she’d loved you, and she chuckles, steadying you with a hand on your waist

“Easy there.” She teases, holding tight to your waist. You feel her breath tickle the top of your head, and then, with a gentleness that contrasts the intensity of earlier, she places a chaste kiss upon your tousled hair, before collecting her jacket and buttoning it up around herself like before.

"Oh, Tony’s gonna have a field day when he sees you," she murmurs, the amusement in her voice impossible to miss. You can almost picture it now—Tony’s raised eyebrows, the sly grin that would stretch across his face when he spots the two of you looking disheveled as ever, and the sex joke already bursting free from his smart ass mouth.

“Whatever, Maximoff.” You push her away and in the direction of the door, “go let them in.”

#my fics! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x y/n

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markrosewater · 6 months ago

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Elegance

Here’s my original article for Elegance.

This is a topic I’ve wanted to write about for a long time. Ironically, the words needed to explain the concept kept the column from being elegant. So I did what all artists do. I found a way to say a lot in a little space.

Enjoy,

Mark Rosewater

[NOTE: EACH OF THE ABOVE FIFTY WORDS IS HYPERLINKED. BELOW IS THE FIFTY HYPER LINKS. THE HEADERS SHOULDN’T BE ON THE LINKED PAGE. I’M JUST INCLUDING THEM SO YOU KNOW WHAT EACH LINK IS.]

ELEGANCE

Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary has five definitions for elegance:

• refined grace or dignified propriety

• tasteful richness of design or ornamentation

• dignified, gracefulness or restrained beauty of style

• scientific precision, neatness and simplicity

• something that is elegant

The common elements appear to be dignity, simplicity, and taste.

THIS

Elegance requires thinking, but it also requires feeling. Elegant prose is judged by how it makes the reader feel. It needs to generate a sense of calm that puts the reader at ease. Everything in your writing should feel as if it was carefully positioned to create the proper effect.

Pound for pound, the writer’s greatest writing tool is the verb. Nouns add substance and adjectives add flourish, but it’s the verb that drives the sentence. Choose a strong, descriptive verb and the sentence has flair and purpose. Choose a weak one and the sentence lacks any sense of drama.

Here’s a little game to test an elegance relevant skill (based on an old game called Inklings). Randomly choose a noun. Try to convey that noun to the other players using the least number of letters possible. You’ll be surprised how much you can communicate in just a few letters.

TOPIC

One of the greatest stumbling blocks to elegance is the inability to choose a single focus. Elegance requires simplicity. Simplicity requires a single purpose of thought. This means that elegance starts before you write a single word. A good sculptor must know his image before he picks up his chisel.

I’VE

One of the common misconceptions of elegance is that it requires a writer to be fancy. Elegance though is more about familiarity than formality. You shouldn’t be afraid of friendlier language such as slang or contractions, assuming that such language adds an element of ease rather than one of laziness.

WANTED

An important element of elegance is a sense of passion. Brevity does not mean pulling away emotionally from words, but rather the opposite. When you find yourself limited to fewer words, you must pack each individual word with extra emotional punch. You are not reducing your message, simply your messenger.

A good tool in understanding elegance is studying poetry. Poetry is the most concise of all written art forms. It strives to maximize impact while minimizing expression. Each word carries the burden of evoking some essence of the poet’s message. If it cannot carry its own weight, it is excised.

WRITE

To be an elegant writer, you have to become a student of prose. You have to study the mechanics of language to understand how it can be shaped. Once you have learned how to transfer the feeling in your head into meaningful words, you are on the path to elegance.

ABOUT

Be careful not to fall in love with ambiguity. While intoxicating in its beauty, it is the enemy of elegance. Remember, the goal is not to make the reader struggle for comprehension. Rather it is to lead them to the obvious conclusion. Elegance should be used to illuminate, not confuse.

FOR

Elegant prose requires connecting with your reader. To do this, you have to understand who that reader is. Nothing should come before this task. It needs to be done before writing can begin. I like to compare this to planning a trip. Maps are useless until you know your destination.

Another major key to elegance is the understanding of the importance of the tiniest detail. Just as a chain is only as strong as its weakest link, a piece of prose is only as tight as its messiest detail. A good writer doesn’t stop at the nouns, verbs and adjectives.

LONG

Don’t confuse elegance with brevity. Elegant things are short not because they have to be but because the difficulty to craft an elegant piece of prose combined with the limitations of time forces writers to be brief. Elegant novels, for example, do exist, but they are few and far between.

TIME

To quote Roman orator (and letter writer) Marcus T. Cicero, “If I had more time, I would have written a shorter letter.”

Simplicity takes more time not less. Anyone can get a point across with ten thousand words. But a true artist can do it in ten (or possibly fifty).

IRONICALLY

Irony is a potent tool for commentary. Its genius lies in the fact that it comments not on what is, but rather on what isn’t. Like all good humor, irony makes you laugh. But like the best type of humor, it also makes you think. It’s both funny and funny.

THE

Elegance in writing is about more than words. Equally important is how the words are woven together. Tempo, pacing, rhythm – these are the tools that set the mood for the piece. Try reading aloud your text. The natural beat of language is more suited for the ear than the eye.

WORDS

To realize the power of words, you must first understand how they work. Art is expressive; words are connotative. That is, words draw their power from their ability to extract different ideas from different people. A circle is a circle, but the concept of “scary” varies from person to person.

NEEDED

Elegance is not the result of any one attribute. It is the combination of numerous factors coming together in harmony. This is why it’s such a hard skill to master. Most people can pat their head or rub their tummy. But put them together and it’s not quite so easy.

An elegant piece of prose needs to hit the reader at a gut level. Often they won’t know exactly why they like it, but they will recognize that something about the piece moves them. There are many types of writing where subtlety is lost. Elegant writing isn’t one of them.

EXPLAIN

There are many ways for you to explain an idea. The most elegant one though is not through definition but by example. By connecting your idea to one already known by the reader, you’re leaving the work of teaching to someone in the past. Education is hard. Comparison is easy.

THE

If writing is like building a house, the structure is like the foundation. Its design will dictate how the house is built. If it’s faulty, no amount of fancy brickwork will undo the damage. So take the time to ensure your structure is building the kind of prose you want.

CONCEPT

Never underestimate the power of a concept. An important part of elegance is condensing big ideas into little words. This is far from an easy task. It often takes a genius an entire lifetime to create a truly innovative concept. So take advantage of all their hard work and inspiration.

KEPT

A common barrier to elegance is the belief that only one way will work. Often a writer is unable to abandon a beloved piece of prose even when evidence demonstrates otherwise. If something doesn’t add to the larger sense of the piece, you have to learn to let it go.

THE

Readers notice things at a minute level far beyond their mind’s ability to interpret. This means that although they may not consciously notice many of your tiny details, they will do so unconsciously. Aesthetics teach us that it’s this unconscious structure that will determine whether or not it feels “right”.

COLUMN

All communicators, whether through speaking or print, need to find a voice. A voice provides familiarity and it teaches the listener or reader how to more quickly absorb the information. Elegance is all about the conservation of ideas. Having a pre-learned voice to guide you is a very valuable tool.

FROM

I’ve spent some time talking about understanding your reader. But there is one more person who is even more important to understand – yourself. Writing is about sharing your ideas with others. If you haven’t spent the time to figure out what you think, how can you possibly communicate it?

BEING

“A picture is worth a thousand words.”

Or so the saying goes. What the cliché forgets to mention is how many words a single word is worth. For example, take the word “being”. To capture the essence of what “being” represents is tens of thousands of words if not more.

ELEGANT

What is the value of being elegant? Why should you care? Elegance adds aesthetics. It evokes poetry. It grants beauty. Elegant prose draws the reader closer because it gives them something to not just learn but to admire. Good prose stimulates the head, but elegant prose resonates in the heart.

Who, what, where, when, how - all important questions. But for a writer they pale next to why. If you don’t understand the reasoning beneath the surface, the other details are irrelevant. The act of elegance is cementing the why. It’s taking the purpose and engraining it into the piece.

Elegance is a very personal thing. If something doesn’t resonate with you, there’s no way for it to resonate with your reader. Writing is an art, not a science. There is no rulebook for how things must be done. If your instincts are telling you that something isn’t working, listen.

DID

An important tool in your toolbox is time. Elegance cannot be rushed. Mental ruts only get deeper the harder you focus on them. Make sure to work time into your schedule so you are able to walk away from your writing. An hour next week is worth a day today.

WHAT

Don’t let attention to detail pull you away from having a larger sense of what you’re writing. Take this column as an example. While I spent a lot of time fine tuning each entry I never lost sight of the effect they created when all the entries were put together.

ALL

Elegance requires taking a holistic view of writing. Every word, every sentence, every paragraph is a piece in a larger puzzle. It’s not enough to understand the impact of a single element. You must understand how any two elements interact if you want to understand the potency of your text.

ARTISTS

Elegance and art are very intertwined. Both seek to achieve a similar goal: to illuminate and inspire with a conservation of expression. If you’re trying to be elegant, I think it helps to think of yourself as an artist. The instinct for the latter mirrors the needs of the former.

An important part of any writing is understanding the feeling you’re trying to evoke. And then realizing what mechanic tools you have available to evoke that feeling. Diction, verb tense, sentence length, alliteration, word flow, phonetic juxtaposition – each of these will control the mood and tone of your piece.

A writer’s life is the ultimate fodder. Don’t be ashamed to plumb your own experiences. You understand them deeper and more personally than anyone else. No painter would refuse to use his finest paints. And, as a bonus, by using your own experiences, you will become better educated about yourself.

FOUND

Don’t forget that the act of revealing is also an act of exploration. Don’t be afraid if you learn more than the reader you’re trying to educate. Writing is not an exact science. (Or even an exact art.) Often you will find that the road to salvation has a fork.

Your future is paved with your past. If you want to learn how to grow as a writer, you need to look back at what you’ve written. With time and a detached eye, your will find your mistakes become clearer. Remember that it’s failure, not success, that bests drives education.

WAY

The problem with looking for a single solution is that you’ll never find more than one. And the first one isn’t always the best. But if you’re open to the possibility that every problem has an infinite number of answers, you’ll have the freedom of choosing the solution you want.

Sentences are filled with freeloaders. Because writers seem to love overwriting. (I include myself in this camp.) Make sure to create time for the editor side of you to prune unnecessary words. If a word can be excised without any harm to the sentence, it has no right being there.

SAY

I’m spending my time today talking about elegance in prose, but most of what I’m saying is applicable in speech. The key difference is that prose has less defining attributes like appearance or tone. The key to elegant speech is making people focus on the words rather than everything else.

It’s ironic that something designed to be so simple can be so complex. But that, my faithful readers, is the joy (and mystery) of elegance. Like an onion, elegance has numerous layers that reveal themselves as you slowly peel them away. Oh yeah, and it can sometimes make you cry.

LOT

An interesting exercise is to look at each word you’re using and think about how much content is loaded in that word. Then explore what other words exist that fulfill the same role but with added content. Once you’ve found the word you can’t best, move onto the next word.

A good way to get better at understanding elegance is to look for it in every day life. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised where and how often you find it. Study each example carefully and try to see if you can put your finger on what makes it work.

Writing is a shared endeavor. No one owns the words. If someone uses a technique that works, there’s no shame in borrowing it. Like science, writing creates technology that’s brought back to the group to spur further advancements. Elegance is hard enough to accomplish without refusing to use the toolbox.

LITTLE

How big should a piece of text be if you want it to be elegant? The answer is as big as it needs to be – and not a word more. Just think of it as playing the game Jenga. Keep pulling words out of your prose until it collapses.

SPACE

One of the most important lessons in art is learning the value of negative space, the idea that the eyes are equally drawn to what isn’t there. Prose has a very similar quality. When writing pay careful attention to what you aren’t saying. Often it will speak the loudest volume.

ENJOY

For some reason people tend to equate dignity with seriousness. And as such they come to the false conclusion that elegance has no room for humor. Ironic as humor is one of the most elegant of styles. A good joke is no longer than is necessary to do its job.

MARK

As is always true when I head off the beaten path, I am curious to hear your feedback. What did you think of this article? Was it entertaining? Was it educational? Did you actually read all fifty links? And if not, why not?

Tell me. Inquiring mind wants to know.

ROSEWATER

I couldn’t end this week’s column without my trademark closing. I mean, how inelegant would that be?

Join me next week when I go from being a letter man to a Letterman.

Until then, may you learn to appreciate now just the “what” but the “how” and “why”.

Mark Rosewater

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anim-ttrpgs · 1 month ago

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Reading the book, and I'm already loving it. I agree with a lot of the things y'all say in it (players control the characters, not the narrator, etc.), but I was surprised at the strong insistence on 3rd person play.

Personally I like 1st person play because it helps me with immersion. If I play in 3rd person then my mental camera goes 3rd person, which feels more like playing a video game and removes that thrill of embodying someone else and living in a new world.

Usually I see people either take a strong pro 1st person stance, or a noncommittal stance, but this is the first time I've come across a game that insists on the 3rd person. I'm curious about the reasoning behind it. Was it just a philosophical decision, or did it bear out in playtesting that 3rd person was the better method? In the book y'all acknowledge that 3rd person play doesn't eliminate the threat of griefing from bad faith players.

Y'all clearly put a lot of thought into the game, so that really interested me. Could be a good learning opportunity!

I passed this on to one of our team and this is what she had to say:

In addition to our own home table just preferring to play in 3rd person, we believe that perspective is an important element of TTRPGs that doesn't get explored very often in the modern landscape. The games we play are composed of language - not just the words on the page, but the words we say at the table. Changing the verbiage will create a different emotional space, and a different experience. That zoomed out mental camera you describe is part of the point! In any TTRPG, players are always two things: participant, and audience. The narration we employ at the table affects the game world, yes, but we are also the only people there to see it play out. Eureka strongly emphasizes the "audience" side of that equation, and wants to frame the "participant" side as an act of authorship and discovery rather than one of inhabiting the world.

Just on a fundamental level, perspective is a defining part of any media - the camera angle in a movie or video game, the person of a book's prose, who tells the story, and who they tell it for. The way we frame a story changes the response it evokes. As you say, you've seen either strong pro-1st-person stances or neutral ones, but not a strong pro-3rd-person stance. I don't think that's because 1st person is inherently better for this sort of game, I think its because there is a tendency in the hobby right now - for a variety of reasons - to treat TTRPGs like a form of improv theater. That's not a problem in isolation per se, but I think it's one that limits what the medium can be or do. TTRPGs can be improv theater, but is that all they can be?

On a final note, we have also seen the insistence on 1st-person play and the approach of "embodying" a character occasionally cause real harm when the people involved have trouble separating player and character. That's also part of the reason we're so insistent about these being two separate people, because investigators tend to do some pretty messed up things (this being a horror focused game, after all), and we don't want people equivocating their friends with the characters they play when that level of emotional intensity is involved. Many people who play in 1st person are able to engage with that in a healthy way and understand the difference, of course, but I think it's hard to deny that the language makes that equivocation easier.

- @ashweather (person from out team who doesn't normally run this blog)

Adding on myself, another thing that I always like to bring up in this discussion is that first-person verbiage did not used to be so universal! Playing in the hobby even 4 or 5 years ago, you'd see (or at least I would see) a mix of third and first person verbiage at tables, and even people who used both interchangably. It's only in the past few years that third-person verbiage for TTRPGs has gone practically extinct, and i think most of the blame lies at the feet of big-budget "actual play" shows like Critical Role being many people's only reference for how a TTRPG can be played. Critical Role uses first-person, so therefor that's how TTRPGs are played.

I've even had people tell me on multiple separate occassions "that's wrong" when I'm trying to use third-person verbiage for TTRPGs, when playing with rulebooks which explicitly say in their text early on "you can use 1st or 3rd person to describe your character's actions"! (most, if not all, D&D edition rulebooks say this!)

In closing, yeah, if Eureka were a video game, it would be in third-person. Eureka doesn't want you in its world, it wants a character.

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