#writing as a coping mechanism | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

celtic-crossbow · 8 months

Text

Some Things, Only God Can Forgive

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Implied/mention of teen pregnancy, mentions of premature birth, implied/mentions of CSA, mentions of domestic violence

Summary: You’re hurting and have to share something about your past in order for Daryl to understand.

A/N: I’ve allowed parts of my life to wiggle their way into my writing before but this may be the most personal thing I’ve ever used my writing to vent about. I implore you to read the warnings and not venture further if any of those will trigger you. Also, the decision the reader made in her past may be controversial. Please, just… be gentle with me on this one. I needed the outlet badly.

Gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

He found you sitting on the grass near the graves of the loved ones Alexandria had lost. You didn’t seem to be looking at the makeshift crosses, instead staring up at the sky, all orange and purple as the sun bid you goodnight. He approached you carefully, having seen you struggling throughout the day; tears you had tried to hide during your chores and the way you were so easily frustrated with yourself and would storm off to god knows where before returning like nothing had happened.

“Hey.” Daryl said quietly. His knees cracked as he lowered to sit next to you. He mimicked your pose, stretching tired legs out in front of him but chose not to move when you drew your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around them. The position made you look so small.

“Hi.” You answered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Y’okay?” The archer tried to keep his gaze on the darkening sky but found his eyes sliding over to watch you when you sighed.

“No.” You whispered. He started to ask what he could do, what you needed but you didn’t give him a chance. “I need to tell you something.”

That wasn’t reassuring. “Ya can tell me anythin’.” And you could, he hoped you knew that. His temper had calmed over the last year and a half. He found himself to be more thoughtful, his need to be quick to anger diminishing, though not completely absent.

“Before the world fell,” you started, but your lip began to quiver. He watched you struggle for a moment but you seemed to settle. “Before the world fell, I was a mom.”

Daryl tried not to let the surprise show. Out of all the things you could have told him, this was not on his bingo card for the year. You had both spoken of your lives before the turn. He knew you had never had it easy, but a kid? Not trusting his voice, he hummed his acknowledgment and nodded for you to continue. You still weren’t looking at him but you must have seen because you did.

“I was still a kid myself when he came along. I had no idea what I was doing.” You laughed but it was humorless and somehow made his heart ache. “Still, he was perfect. He was so small because he came early, but fuck, he was a fighter.” When the tears started to flow, the archer went against his better judgment and wrapped an arm loosely around your shoulders. You didn’t object. In fact, he wasn’t sure you even realized he had done it.

“He was my world. Kept me going between the beatings and the other shit life would throw at me even after I ditched his asshole father.” You drew in a deep breath and the small smile you had managed to find faded. “He grew up. He was 18 a couple of years before the first walker turned.”

You remained silent for a while. Daryl wasn’t sure if you wanted to share anything more but he remained where he was and waited. Finally, you looked at him, tears in your eyes and an expression that would haunt him for the rest of his days.

“That little girl didn’t deserve what he did to her, Daryl.” The bowman’s heart all but stopped. What were you saying? You turned away again, this time staring at the ground in front of your feet. “And he did it over and over for years. He wasn’t even a teenager when it started.”

Jesus.

His arm around you tightened. He couldn’t help it.

You sniffed and rubbed at your eyes and nose a little harder than necessary. “I found out just before his 19th birthday. I kicked him out of my house and turned him in, but the legal system did what it does best. Failed. I don’t even know what happened to him. We never spoke again.” Your face screwed up again, more tears cascading over your cheeks. “She was just a little girl.” Your face disappeared against your knees, hard sobs wracking your small frame.

Daryl did the only thing he could think of and pulled you toward him, finding you willing to bury your face against his chest and cry while he held you. What could he say that would make even the tiniest bit of that raw pain you were carrying any better? His lips pressed against the top of your head, his hand rubbing circles across your back. The sky was black and littered with stars when you finally calmed down enough to pull away from him.

“I’m sorry.” You offered, seeing the dark spot on his button-up shirt.

“Ya ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for.” He made sure to be extra gentle when he thumbed away the remaining wetness below your eyes. You offered him a small smile when he leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead, much like Carol had done for him only a few months prior.

“I should have told you before now.”

“Don’t make a bit’a diff’rence.” The corner of his mouth lifted into a little half-smile when you met his eyes questioningly.

“It doesn’t?” Your voice broke on the last syllable. “You still love me?”

“Course I do. Ya did right by that girl even when it meant ya had to lose someone ya loved. Weren’t no easy thing to do.” Daryl allowed his knuckles to whisper down your jaw. “The hell ya think that’d make me—oomph!” He nearly toppled over when you launched yourself into his chest, your arms winding around his neck in a hold tight enough to restrict his ability to breathe properly.

“Thank you.” Your hold loosened but didn’t fall away.

“For what?” The archer asked, managing to climb to his feet with you still thoroughly attached. His hands came to rest softly on your waist.

“For being everything I thought I’d never see of love.”

Daryl felt a familiar sting in his own eyes, fighting back the urge with a hard sniff. The two of you stayed that way for a while longer when you suddenly pulled back and grabbed his hand, yanking him toward the cluster of houses. He stumbled comically before righting himself with a grumbled ‘the hell, woman’ but soon fell in step beside you, listening to you list off the food items the two of you had at home and ponder over things to make for a late dinner.

Of course, he still loved you. The archer was certain there was nothing you could tell him that would ever change that.

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x female reader #writing as a coping mechanism #writing as therapy #Spotify

204 notes · View notes

notalostcausejustyet · 5 months

Text

More poetry. Cause I’m working through shit and it’s good for me.

Kintsugi

Graceful degradation

The beautiful usefulness of all the broken parts of me

Shards as sharp as knives

Shattered and glittering

Broken like these hands

This heart, this body, this soul

The malunion of what was created and what I have become

Catastrophic functionality

The incorporeal and mangled teeth of magnanimity

Viscous like blood

Warm and sharp as iron

A tacky, tattered tapestry

It spills from the cavity that once held the heart of me

#poetsandwriters #poetry #spilled poetry #words words words #religious trauma #relationships #relationship trauma #witers on tumblr #writing as therapy #writing as a coping mechanism #come along with me as I work through 40 years of bullshit abuse and expectations #buckle up buttercups it’s time to start healing

11 notes · View notes

animastellans · 2 months

Text

she wrote. she had entire notebooks filled page by page with many short stories, poems, drabbles, so on and so forth. she never shared them. those were works inspired by her pain, by her experiences, her thoughts, by what she felt. those were more than notebooks, those were pieces of herself.

#writing #self expression #dark academia #notebooks #literature #writing as a coping mechanism #coping mechanism

4 notes · View notes

queer-whatchamacallit · 29 days

Text

So y’know when I said I was going to write the first anniversary of Mike’s death? Well you might be interested in a not yet published chapter of this fic:

#the bear #the bear fx #fanfic #michael berzatto #death anniversary #writing as a coping mechanism #carmy berzatto #dealing with grief #writing

2 notes · View notes

so-pretty-in-my-pain · 2 years

Text

I woke up from a dream that opened up old wounds-

I spent the day stitching them up with poetry

#plus size #plusandproud #btgg #big tiddy goth girl #married #rbf #filter fun #septum #tattoo #brown eyes #writing as a coping mechanism

22 notes · View notes

011414m · 1 year

Text

reading through some old feelings….

#writing #women writers #feelings #hurtcore #journal #messy art #old art #writing as a coping mechanism #writing as a career

11 notes · View notes

alynnl · 1 year

Text

I’m coping with my chronic illness by writing more of my Ace Attorney fanfic. It is slow going but I am distracted from my pain writing a soft Miles Edgeworth. I see almost no downsides. Imagine if I was this focused when I’m well. I’d have this thing stamped, sealed and delivered, y’all.

#Lynn speaks #life with chronic illness #live with chronic pain #IBS woes #Lynn's writing #writing as a coping mechanism #Soft Miles Edgeworth as a coping mechanism #you mean it's a way to grin and bear it through life?#yes always has been

5 notes · View notes

zeewhatiwrote · 1 year

Text

If there was one thing I could make everyone truly see about anxiety and depression, it would be how lonely and isolating explaining it can be.

How hope sinks it's claws in your chest everytime someone lends a ear and a helping hand, promising to understand

How your heartbreaks everytime they don't

How the dread settles in your stomach as you desperately grasp for words that fail you, everytime someone asks you for reasons for your anxiety indused behaviour

How the ground disappears from beneath your feet when your feelings are dismissed as "not a big deal" and reminders are shoved down your throat about how these aren't real problems and that other people have it worse

How your mind shuts down when they tell you to try to look at the brighter side, to be "more positive" as if you haven't been trying your hardest for years to be just that

How your brain screams "Your hardest can get better and yet your best will never be enough" over and over until it drowns out all the the other thoughts

How the anger and guilt intertwine and settle over your skin, squeezing the breath from your lungs

How you spend the whole night curled up in your own self-hatred, when they turn their back on you saying they've had enough

The helplessness is a companion you can't seem to leave behind now

When your mind is your worst enemy, loneliness makes a home out of your bones.

#a random thought #anxiety disorder #depression #4 am ramblings #words spilled #spilled thoughts #ink spilled #spilled poetry #free verse #prose #tell me how to remove my brain #writers of tumblr #original poetry #writing as a coping mechanism #writblr #excerpts from a book i'll never write #writing

16 notes · View notes

pattricias · 11 months

Text

this is the list of things i can't eat

coconut oil. overpriced almond milk in shitty coffee. shitty coffee in general. instant noodles in the same pot they're cooked in. instant noodles in the same bowl they're microwaved in. ethyl alcohol. boiling water. whiskey. baked sushi. cold isaw. fresh printed-on paper. my thesis. room temperature beer. red horse beer. my own vomit. cotton-candy flavored. toothpaste. someone else's spit.…

View On WordPress

#love #love poem #love poetry #musings #my beloved #personal #poem #poetry #scratched love letters #thoughts #writing #writing as a coping mechanism #writing as exploration

3 notes · View notes

diorjeonghan · 1 year

Text

Me: *imagines fanfiction in my head about the characters in my book that I didn‘t even start instead of starting my book so I can make the fanfictions actually happen*

Me: yes

#writing #writerslife #fanfic writer #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writer problems #writing a book #writing as a coping mechanism #writing a novel #ao3 link #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3

4 notes · View notes

ehmjey · 1 year

Text

generational rage

I don't have generational trauma, I have generational rage.

i have generational rage inside me for all the women before me, for all the women who had less rights, who had the world against them and and fought regardless. who rose up to face off against all the odds, against all the obstacles built in their way. because they had to. because they didn't have to but still did. for us. for me.

i have generation rage inside me for all the women who still have to fight today.

#feminism #support women #generational rage #writing as a coping mechanism

3 notes · View notes

ascatteredmuseforming · 2 years

Text

Spinning

Falling

The downward spiral isn't so bad.

It's the sudden stop at the end that hurts.

--

I used to think

Hitting rock bottom was the worst

But when you start building back up

Make sure you're not just adding stressors on top of stressors

That mountain gets awfully heavy

Crushing weight of expectations

Makes it hard to breathe.

#own writing #depression #writing as a coping mechanism

2 notes · View notes

ourburningbridges · 2 years

Text

Puppy Love

- dedicated to my lost childhood friend.

- the new puppy may be a good girl, but she will never be as great as you.

A beautiful girl lays her head in my lap.

Her kisses soft to the touch while she takes a nap.

“I’m a monster.” I sigh,

“This girl is not mine.”

Her voice is too high and her hair is too fine.

“I promise I’m yours.” I whisper in my head.

But not to this girl.

But to the one that is dead.

- 🪷

#creative writing #poetry #writing #my poem #poems on life #young poets #young author #emotional poetry #lost dog #dogs #vent poetry #vent poem #glimpse of us #sad poems #dog poem #writing about feelings #writing as a coping mechanism

6 notes · View notes

theodoravanyar · 7 days

Text

Of Bitterness and Bulgogi

14,178 Days Alive $19.98 for 3.75 Lbs of Grapes!!! 4 of 354 Squares Made on Mac’s Mega Blanket 3 Bowls of Ground Beef Bulgogi Served For Dinner 1 Mild Headache Well. I’ve hit my one year anniversary at my job as of last week. I’m hoping my annual review comes with a raise, no matter how insufficient it may be in comparison to the cost of living. Continue reading Of Bitterness and Bulgogi

View On WordPress

0 notes

literiry · 5 months

Text

Writing is an essential part of my being. Those who tell me to do something else, that writting cannot be my career, I feel so lost. Because I don't know, and I swear to god, I really don't know what else is there that I can really do.

Pen, paper and words are my only hope. My last resort. I don't know if there's anything else I can do. I can't even imagine anything else, nothing comes to my mind.

#writerslife #writing #writers and poets #writing as a coping mechanism

0 notes

brownsugarchailatte · 5 months

Text

birds.

there are birds singing right now.

i'm not sure how many,

but i know it's enough to drown out the cicadas every so often.

you resembled a bird to me.

not in physical features, at least not to any extreme.

your face had sharp angles

and your voice was high pitched.

maybe their songs just remind me of a piccolo.

you reminded me of a bird.

you'd flit around, never able

or maybe not willing

to stay in one place.

always moving

and talking

and chirping.

your excitement woke me up.

i swear you could fly.

sometimes it was like

watching a bird and a glass window.

you'd fly right in to it,

but you always got back up.

you hatched,

you begged for nurturing,

you learned to fly,

and then you were gone.

you'd come back every so often,

but i knew your nest was somewhere else.

so i let you go.

i wish i hadn't.

i can't fly.

i never could.

but i loved to watch you.

i love the sound of your voice

and your somewhat brash nature.

a robin or a bluebird,

flitting along the fence line

perching on the Japanese Maples.

birdsong has never been so calming,

and yet so heartbreaking.

i hear you in the birds.

do you fly with them now too?

#is this poetry?#vent poetry #dealing with grief #birds #writing as a coping mechanism

0 notes