the-buried-life-book

“Joaquin, there is great danger coming, we need to prepare the others!”

“…Manolo?

i still like the au idea that manolo came back to life in his original body

with a few side effects, of course

“When we started Buried Life we all got inspired by different things that made us believe we could do anything. We gave ourself permission to go after our biggest dreams. We want this book to give that feeling to anyone who reads it,” says coauthor Nemtin, who has been collecting materials for the book over the last five years.

The group tells Us they were especially inspired by stories like Jonnie Penn’s interaction with a woman whose life goal was to travel across the Atlantic Ocean in a rowboat, or that of Jamie Tworkowski, who founded the charity To Write Love on Her Arms.

“The weird thing about the question ‘What do you want to do before you die?’ is you get answers you honestly can’t believe because they’re heartbreaking, offensive, funny or so ambitious,” Jonnie Penn tells Us. “Each dream [included] is a glimpse into some extraordinary person’s life.”

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“Uh! What was that? Are you guys okay? My book… Now I have to read Hunger Games!”

This is Seregil, a lovely, shady individual from the amazing Nightrunner Series. If you haven’t read it, you should give it a try: it’s a brilliant fantasy story, beautifully written, with the LGBT characters the world deserves. I can’t put the books down, send help.


[I’m still alive! Still clinging to a semi-human life, still buried under loads of history, archaeology and philology books. I hope I’ll be able to draw more in the future, tho.]

You and I, we’re something.
Dynamic.
Contrasting.
Enigmatic.
You’re tall and I’m short.
You’re tanned and my skin is white as milk.
You’re athletic and I’m nerdy.
You’ve got captivating brown eyes and I hide mine behind a pair of thick black glasses.
You listen to rock and heavy metal and I like jazz.
You can handle your alcohol and I prefer coffee over anything.
You can digest horror movies and I cry over one I’ve seen three times before.
You always have headphones on where ever you go, and my head is always buried in a book.
You’re the life of the party, and I’m laughing at you in the background.


Yet,
We connect as soon as our eyes meet.
My senses seem to heighten when you’re around.
Every touch feels like ecstasy.  
I can feel myself gravitate towards you.
We both stay up all night listening to country and drinking tea.
You don’t give me your jacket when I’m cold,
Instead you wrap me up in the warmth of your arms.
The cadence of your beating heart keeps me grounded.
We can’t sing for shit,
But we still jam to our favorite songs together.
Our fingertips are rubbed raw from the hard strings of our guitars.
Your humming is my favorite lullaby.
My scrambled eggs is your comfort food.
We dance in our underwear at 3 am in the moonlight streaming from the window.
I’ve memorized every scar on your body,
One strand of my hair is always curled around your finger.
I steal your clothes,
And you pout and narrow your eyes.
We have pages after pages filled with bad poetry.
I fall asleep while we watch TV together,
And you crank up the volume just to spite me.
The bed is overflowing with mismatched cushions,
But the walls are bare.

You and I.
You and I, we’re something else together.

—  this is us.

The Hufflepuff who blasts Fidlar and Waaves on a smuggled muggle iPod that they’ve charmed to work inside the castle while they work their ass off on potions homework and only wears the standard black robes “just because I’m loyal and hard working doesn’t mean I have to go around looking like a gaudy ray of sunshine.”

The Ravenclaw who spends all their time painting and playing instruments and prefers exploring the castle after curfew and learning from their own life experiences to burying their nose in a book because they are autistic and prefer to do their own thing and know that there’s more than one type of intelligence.

That one Gryffindor who doesn’t go around looking to brazenly break the rules and doesn’t go off into foolish acts of self sacrifice but who makes themselves known when one of their housemates dares to simplify the complexities of the war. “HOW DARE YOU! IT ISN’T BLACK AND WHITE OR GOOD VERSUS EVIL! MY GRANDPARENTS WERE DEATH EATERS, AND DO YOU KNOW WHY? BECAUSE VOLDEMORT WAS GOING TO KILL MY FAMILY UNLESS THEY FUCKING JOINED! BECAUSE THEY KIDNAPPED MY MOTHER AS BLACKMAIL! AND I PROMISE YOU