#dying young

[k3t4min5]

more scared of getting old than dying young

[girlblogger222yara]

The feminine urge to die tragically young

[enemy-to-the-state]

Eerie Indiana’s “Heart on a Chain” and on losing a friend

[nevvaraven]

If anyone’s wondering what @otrtbs new fic is about, this pretty much sums it up

[mysteryofvampires]

The feminine urge to get burried with my favourite books after dying tragically at a young age due to a mysterious illness.

[izmet6]

I wanna die so much not because I'm sad or anything I just wanna die for the art of dieing I wanna feel what is like to die in every single way I wanna die every day death is beautiful

[readtherunes]

When I Say I Cannot Promise You Eternity

He thought I meant I didn't love him when I said I couldn't marry him. But to me, I was loving him the best way I could, by only making promises I was sure I could keep.

How many weddings had I stood at, watching two people cry while they promised each other eternal undying love -- when what they really meant was "I promise to love you as long as things stay the way they are now."

That's the thing with living. It just goes on and on no matter how many changes happen. Things you thought you'd never survive, you survive, but you walk out a completely different person than you were before. And all your old promises? You aren't the same body that made them.

I think this is where our obsession with the youthful dead comes from.

Marilyn smiles at us still, young as she was when our grandparents first laid eyes on her. Her eyes dropped, lips parted. Still 25 all these years later, as our lives change and change, and the person we swore we'd always be is slowly eaten away, like a boat covered in barnacles.

She smiles and smiles, and we think when we see the smile that life can't be that cruel. It was just us who missed the mark, made that one wrong turn in the road that led to it all going wrong.

This hurts, of course, but not as much as the realization that the control was never ours in the first place. The dealer stacked the cards against us from the beginning.

So I tell him I love him now, that in this moment I would give him anything. And that has to be enough, right?

[lost-ash-es]

I miss you mac

you stopped texting me back

or answering my calls

I just found out why

I just found out you died

I imagine a pastor reading some lines above your coffin

I imagine roses laying on it

before its lowered into the ground

and covered up with dirt

your body will decay into the earth

and bugs will eat the flesh

then all the blood will dry up

mushrooms will grow from your corpse

flowers will bloom and they'll smell like you

your fibers will soak into the soil, making it darker

is your spirit finally at ease?

travelling through the cosmos

does it remind you of the seas?

your bones will become one with the earth

as will your flesh with the bugs and the birds

your spirit will mix with the universe

but I can't say that I blame you

I can't say I'm not jealous

I know you wanted nothing more

than to fade away

I know I'll see you again anyway

-ash

[dzthenerd490]

Files: Dying Young

SCP#: AYJ

Code Name: Dying Young/ A Beautiful Death.

Object Class: Somnum

Special Containment Procedures: Due to the metaphysical nature of SCP-AYJ, it cannot be contained. Furthermore, it is believed that there is a possibility an event similar to SCP-AYJ will happen again in the future. As such efforts are focused on working toward countermeasures instead of containment should such an event occur again.

Description: SCP-AYJ is an event possibly a plague or even a curse that affected the young girls of [data expunged] in the country of Japan. The unfortunate truth is that the Foundation knows little to nothing about SCP-AYJ making its containment one of the greatest failures of our organization. The best working theory of the SCP-AYJ event is that it was a ploy caused by a [data expunged] but of course, given their nature, there's no way to confirm this. 

SCP-AYJ starts off by affecting a young girl, normally 14 to 18 years of age and one who is considered by those around them to be ugly. SCP-AYJ will begin by making them slowly turn into the societal standard of beauty, which is to be thin, have long hair, a acne free face, light skin, and no flaws on the skin what-so-ever. After about one month their transformation will be complete, and they will be perceived by all those around them as unbelievable beautiful. However, after 2-3 months of effect they will grow increasingly skinny and weak while simultaneously growing "more beautiful" as well. This will continue until their bodies become so weak that their organs will fail, and they will die. It is theorized that it also spread like a plague since sever girls were seen getting affected after coming into contact with someone who was already under SCP-AYJ's influence. However, "patient zero" and the girl who supposedly spread SCP-AYJ the most, had minimal contact even before "patient zero's" death. Furthermore, there was a girl who had contact with both "patient zero" and the girl who "spread" SCP-AYJ yet never came under its effects. So, in the end the Foundation still knows nothing of how SCP-AYJ spreads. 

SCP-AYJ was discovered in 1991 when a sudden increase of deaths was reported in the town of [data expunged]. Since the event was occurring in Japan Mobile Task Force Poseidon-3 "Otaku Heart" was quick to investigate and saw the entirety of SCP-AYJ's effects. Surprisingly it was only after the year ended that SCP-AYJ stopped entirely, and all of its affected individuals died. Once the event ended it was confirmed that containment was impossible, so MTF Poseidon-3 pulled back and instead Mobile Task Force Gamma-5 "Red Herrings" was deployed. Those that were not affected or who had witnessed the even were located by MTF Gamma-5 and given Class G Amnestics making with the cover story that it was a rare disease that spread and killed all the young girls. 

"At times like this we're remined of how weak we truly are, the Foundation may be humanities best hope of surviving the impossible but that doesn't mean we can achieve the impossible. This is why we take every opportunity to take any form of power we can, because to do otherwise is to allow humanity to inch closer to destruction. This is why I'll never understand those morons like Zeek or those weaklings like Corvio that dare say the Foundation needs to be regulated! You say we have too much power? I say we don't have nearly enough." -Dr. Egao

.

SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub

[girlblogger222yara]

The worst thing that could happen to me right now is to fall in love again

[duranduratulsa]

90's Fest Actress of the day: Julia Roberts #juliaroberts #prettywoman #steelmagnolias #thepelicanbrief #dyingyoung #mybestfriendswedding #sleepingwiththeenemy #hook #Flatliners #90s #90sfest #durandurantulsas3rdannual90sfest

[fatecanberewritten]

One only consolation have we: his friends mourn and weep, but he is at rest. The pang is over, his sufferings are at an end forever. A sod covers his gentle form, and he knows no pain. He can no longer be a subject for pity; we must reserve that for his miserable survivors.

Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

[flowerparts]

𖨆♡𖨆 i am wasting my days as I've wasted my nights and I've wasted my youth

[meduthenitediaries]

Alvimiya - III

Dear Diary,

It’s hard to believe more than a year has passed since I first met Megan at Hal’s graveside. It had been almost three years since I lost him, and I was visiting his final resting place, lost in memories of the life we built together. The day was heavy with grief, the air thick with unspoken sorrow.

I used to believe that Sundappled Grove would be my forever home. Hal and I built it together, board by board, stone by stone. There was the pond with its lazy comfort and the grove of oak and chestnut trees where the light filtered through just right. Hal always loved that time of day when the sun made everything glow gold.

I can still hear the sounds of the ranch: pigs snuffling in the barn, cows lowing in the pasture, chickens scratching at the dirt, and cicadas that sang at night. Back then, everything was alive, buzzing with purpose. Even the garden, my sanctuary. A place where I could retreat from the world, reconnect with the magic in the land, and practice the spells that kept everything thriving. I enchanted our residence and the barn with spells to keep rot and rust from creeping it. However, I did allow the colors to fade naturally to minimize suspicion, well, before I revealed to him about my faeness. When Hal passed way too soon, far too early. it felt like the heart of Sundappled Grove left with him.

was only in his fifties when he was taken by heatstroke in the middle of an August drought. Stricken by grief, I devised a plan that I do not completely regret. When he passed, I created a changeling of him, gathering his favorite shirt, his work gloves, his pocket knife, and the bandana I hand-stitched for him. I tied them together with a rope bridal knot and extracted a few random memories from his slumbering form, weaving them into the bundle until it shifted into a shape that bore Hal's resemblance.

Before giving it life, I spelled it with permanency so that when it ultimately died, it would retain his form rather than disintegrate back into the collection of objects it was made from. Upon awakening döppel-Hal, I immediately struck it down, stripping it of the false life force that momentarily stirred within it. The poor thing had the briefest of existences.

I did this so his family would have someone to bury, a tangible presence to mourn. He was laid to rest in a casket made from the oaks of our ranch, surrounded by a bed of hyacinths and mums from my garden - his favorite flowers.

But I secretly had his real body cremated and his cremains blown into a glass orb that depicts the night sky on the day we first met. I altered the glass so when you looked at it with the right amount of lighting from the correct angle, you’d see an image of us in an internal embrace frosted into the side. It stays with me at home in my private collection.

We were supposed to have more time.

Every moment we shared on that land, every future I imagined was stolen, just like that. One day he was there, the solid and strong foundation beneath my feet. The next, he was gone and the earth shifted. I wasn’t ready. I don’t think I ever could’ve been. I replay the day it happened in my mind, haunted by the small details. The way he had smiled at me as he left to work the fields, the sound of his boots crunching on the gravel drive, awhile the sun best down so mercilessly.

He loved that ranch with everything he had. Without him, it’s just an empty shell now.

At first, I tried to keep it up. I upkept the enchantments for a time being but eventually I decided it was not worth my energy. It was too much. Not without Hal. I watched as the place slowly decayed, grief seeping into every board and every stone. The paint faded, the house sagged, and the garden grew wild. The animals are long gone, the pigs and cows sold, the chickens let loose into the woods.

Each time I visit, I hope to see someone else living there. I don’t even know how these things work. I assumed the town or the bank might take it, sell it to a new family, or just take it for themselves. Hopefully a new family can move in and love it the way we did.

But it's still there. Empty. Waiting.

That day at the cemetery, I was so lost in my grief that I barely noticed the little girl who wandered up to me. “Are you okay?” she asked. I looked up and saw a child with sad but curious eyes. And before I knew it, I was telling her everything: about Hal, about how he died too young. I didn’t stop to think about how much weight those words carried for someone so young. I just opened my heart. Even at such a young age, she had the tender heart of a person beyond her years, soaking in every word I said.

Fast forward to now, and for the past two weeks, I’ve been watching her three afternoons a week. We spend our time going over her schoolwork, sharing stories about Hal, and talking about her friends and the little things that fill her days. There seems to be a sadness she doesn’t yet have the words to express. I can sense it, the distance between her and her mother. She doesn’t say it outright, but it’s there, a quiet ache.

Megan is a bright, strong little soul, but something about her tugs at me in ways I can’t ignore.

And now, I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to take her. It’s the only way to help her - to help both her and her mother.

Sincerely,

Ava