Writer vs Writing 2025
jealous of all my artist friends with their art vs artist posts so here's an attempt for words!
some of my favorite lines I've written this year! I decided to showcase lines from a single fic, from Through the Shadows of Shame
and well, words are... words and hard to put in visual format so the longer snippets are as follows:
1. Spinach haunting
"Once I die, I'm haunting you with spinach."
"W-what?! Noâ I was kiddingâ!"
"Every meal. Every stew. Spinach."
Bellaluna made a dying noise. Hans was dry heaving with laughter.
"Iâll leave it unseasoned, put it in your socks, and then Iâll steep it into your tea."
2. Thunder and lightning
He hadn't cast like that in a long time.
He kept his sleeves down and his gloves on. His spells were quiet, often just enough to teach, and even then, only the bare minimum.
Like he was trying not to take up space, or leave too much behind.
But latelyâŠ
Lately, Merylda felt the hum off his skin again.
Like static in the air. Like a storm on the horizon.
Like heâd remembered he used to be thunder and lightning and the silence right before the sky cracked open.
3. I'm going to kill him
But â she wasnât running anymore.
Not from herself. Not from him. Not from whatever they could be.
She would find him, and heavens help him if he tried to run again.
Because this time, she wouldnât let him go.
Erina stood a little straighter, her face still blotchy, but a small grin tugged at the corner of her lips as she wiped her monocle clean, ready to leave.
âWhere are you going?â Selina asked.
âIâm going to kill him,â Erina said immediately.
ââŠin a good way?â Selina asked, her voice was back to being bright and innocent, sweet as the fig in her hand.
A beat of silence.
âI-in a good way, right EriâŠ?â
Erina smirked.
âIâm going to kill him,â she said, crossing her arms, âwith patience. And snacks. And overwhelming emotional availability.â
Merylda burst out laughing.
âThatâs my girl.â
4. Coffee snob x instant coffee gremlin
âAgain,â he repeated, completely unmoved.
âYouââ
âAgain.â
Her patience was running out [after brewing his coffee over and over.]
âIâm going to poison your damn coffee!â
âThen make it well, so I donât taste it,â he replied immediately.
Erina chucked his lab coat at him.
He caught it with one hand without even looking.
5. Hands-on research
Erina Valoa firmly believed in hands-on research, but that did not, under any circumstances, include being hauled over someoneâs shoulder like a sack of soil.
Note: No extra context needed for this, she was literally being carried in the most unromantic way possible HAHAH (he was trying to get her to stop working)
6. On her unyielding spirit
Worst of all? Some of these things werenât even growing in pots.
Burgundy ivy climbed up the walls, its roots gripping onto the concrete, refusing to let go and covering the exposed brick and peeled-back wallpaper.
Tiny moonstone mushrooms sprouted between floorboards, daring you to defy it despite its size.
A fig tree grew at the very corner of the room, having no business being that tall and being that fruitful in an environment that was shady as hell. Literally and figuratively.
There was no logical reason for it, no spell to account for the lushness of the space. And yet, against all conditions set against them, they thrived.
Unyielding. Unreasonable. Unapologetic.
Much like their keeper.
7. Still can't believe I wrote ts omfg
Now she was in his office, in his outlines, in the doodles of page 3 in his lesson plan.
She was the warm breath across his neck, and the moonlight that spilled into his office at night. She lived in the quiet â the ink in his margins, the sentences he kept rereading, and the silence between his words.
8. The girl trio friendship>>>
âThen what do I do when Iâm not in hell anymore, but hell is still in me?â
Meryldaâs expression softened even further. She cupped Erinaâs face in both hands.
âYou remember,â she murmured, âthat hell is not who you are.â
âYou survived it. You left it behind.â
She tossed her fig in the air, caught it with both hands and turned to Erina.
âAnd when it comes clawing back in your head, you donât have to fight it alone anymore.â
BONUS LINES:
9. "I love you so much it makes me want to run, and for the first time, I donât want to anymore."
I love this cause it recognizes her fears, her trauma, but she's choosing to stay anyway (finally)
10. "Her ink. Her blood. It was the same thing."
Ink as a metaphor for her work, and for her blood, intertwining the two as a symbolism for her workaholic tendencies:
âCap your ink before it dries out,â he always reminded her. âOr worse, before it spills and messes up your work.â
It had been spilling, for a long, long time.
Her ink. Her blood. It was the same thing.
Because her worth had always been weighed by how much ink she bled.
And she let it spill.
Every drop of ink proved that she was useful, that she was trying, and that despite it all, she was still here somehow.
Because if she wasnât working, she wasnât earning it. If she wasnât earning it, she didnât deserve it. That was the deal.
That was the whole fucking point.
Shame never let her forget.
It never had.
---
So there's mine!! I'd love to see everyone else's favorite lines from what they wrote this year! đđ„










