#libria

[puppyyboyy]

about me!!!!!!!

my kin list

my myers briggs personality type is: INTP-T

taken!!! i love my boyfriend<333‼️💞💞💞💞

aries, pisces moon and libria rising

i have diagnosed BPD, DMDD, depression, anxiety, ADHD and autism

im pagan

EST timezone!!

i use tone tags sometimes

current hyperfixation is FNAF

special interest right now is BTD (boyfriend to death) and night in the woods

i love going for walks in the woods, drawing/painting, roller blading, writing poetry and hanging out with friends

might add more to this in the future :3

[henryknight]

meet elliot robinson henry knight

Does your character have a secret? a few years ago he had a kid, the other parent is unknown and since he's been living under a new name claiming the little one is his little sister. due to this he refuses to get close or be inmate with anyone or share much about his past prior to three years ago. focusing on work and caring for "his sister".

wanted connections | pinterest | musings blog | full bio -- the group threads - thread tracker - visuals - musings - aesthetics - likes

— BASICS ☆

full name:;  henry axel fletcher knight

nicknames:;  h, hen

gender:;  trans male (he won't tell you that)

pronouns:;  he/him

sexual preference:;  homosexual

relationship role:;  submissive but will dominate in foreplay

birthdate & age:; oct. 10th, 1995, aged twenty-eight years

zodiac sign:;  libria

occupation:;  bartender at soundwave, musician/actor

spouse / lover:;  none currently

— APPEARANCES ☆

face & voice claim:;  nicholas galitzine

height:;  6′0″

eyes:;  green

hair:;  naturally dirty blonde, sometimes dyes auburn, brown, black or a lighter blonde

body art:;  arm tattoos, one on his back and one on his chest. left ear piercing, septum piercing, lip piercings (spider bites), industrial bar in right ear

other distinguishing features:;  cut through left eyebrow, cut on right cheek under his eye and a few scars on his arms

— PERSONALITY ☆

traits:;  tough, clumsy, sassy, hard-working, confident, sassy, sarcastic, insecure, aggressive, self-destructive -- sweet, caring, funny, loveable

fears:;  loving again, his past coming out

hobbies:;  writing, photography, nature walks, reading, video games, playing guitar & piano, singing, bad dancing (sometimes), making drinks, cooking/baking

skills:;  singing, playing various instruments (guitar, piano), writing, making drinks, cooking/baking

quirks:;  zones out, "has two left feet", tends to lick or bite lips a lot when thinking or nervous

— FAMILY ☆

mother:;  mrs. robinson

father:;  mr. robinson

siblings:;  older sister (two years apart)

children:;  athena melody robinson knight (calls her his little sister for the time being)

pets:;  a cat named mr. midnight

— FAVOURITES ☆

ice cream flavour:;  blue moon

food:;  any pasta dishes

time of the day / night:;  twilight - also loves seeing the sunset and sunrise when he can

season:;  autumn/fall, spring

holiday:;  halloween, christmas, new years

animal:;  dogs, cats, foxes, wolves, horses, bunnies

colour:;  blue, black, red

scent:;  anything sweet

musician/band:;  david bowie, queen

— OTHER ☆

education:;  high school drop out, took classes in mixology

bad habits:;  drinking, smoking (cigarettes, vapes, weed)

a cherished item:;  luminous heartbeat rings (one he wears on his right ring finger, the other on his left middle finger (in red))

— BIOGRAPHY ☆

—- B A S I C S  —- // —-  B A C K G R O U N D  —-

brief about:; born as athena melody - growing up into a rather welcoming family with an older sibling and both parents still together and married. embracing everything they were by the age of 20, young elliot didn't mind life in london. all he knew was his love of music and dreaming to one day open up a karaoke bar. however, due to dropping out of high school all he had to learn was a book from his father and a drive to make something of themselves. at first his plan was music or acting and thus he made a youtube channel to show his work but it didn't last long and he ended up deleting the channel getting in his head about it all, not even having many subscribers/viewers.

from about 15 to 21, elliot had dated many different men and woman trying to find someone that would be by his side long term. meeting a guy he thought he found that but it turned to a summer romance and left elliot crushed. from 23 to 25 he got with an amazing guy. the two met through a dating app, connecting some first meeting but nothing happening as elliot recovered from his summer fling. this soon lead to him deleting the app, later remaking his account and meeting the guy again. they started hanging out, taking and became official by christmas. he couldn't be happier. a year in his boyfriend said he loved him and elliot lied saying it back but a week later realized he did, he loved this man. in which he explained to him and all was well.

all went wrong when a sexual experience lead to a kid and since elliot left his boyfriend and england finding a new hope in wilmington with his daughter. he never spoke of it to anyone back home, going through it all alone and closed off. doing his best to care for his daughter now, claiming her has his sister and using the name henry now to hide from everything he was and start a new in a new place. he lives in fear of anyone finding out the truth and thus doesn't share too much of his past, not even the people trying to live his new best life.

he ended up remaking his youtube account under his new name and pushing his music and acting skills again and not giving up until he was discovered and could make a name for himself. wanting to give the best to his "sister" he makes sure he's always working on something. making sure she's cared for and has everything she needs. he's a workaholic that way, working part time as a bartender for whenever he's not doing anything with music or acting, the two usually going together for him.

—- C U R R E N T L Y  —-

henry is living his best life raising his daughter and giving her the best life he can even if he's not the most open about his past or telling anyone she's his daughter. he lives in fear of his past coming back for him (even if he misses his ex-fiance or as he calls him, ex-husband). he bartends pretty often due to trying to still get his music/acting to take off. he's been in town for about three years, as long as his daughter's been alive.

[ will try to update as time goes on ]

[beautiful-basque-country]

There was no H in written Basque until the 20th century? :o

Kaixo anon!

Where did you read that? Because H was used in Basque before the 20th century - one example is Uskara Libria by Joanes Leizarraga published in 1814 where ekhi and other words with H appear.

What happened in the 70s of the 20th century was that the Basque standard was set. And the issue of H was a tricky one: in the southern part of EH H was practically unknown in written Euskara, but it was very usual in Iparralde; it was usual because it had (sometimes) an effect in pronunciation, while in Hegoalde it wasn't written simply because in southern dialects there's no sound that needs to be represented by H or any extra letter.

So Euskaltzaindia tried to unify this situation and right now in standard Basque H is very rare, mostly mute, it's just pronounced in some forms of verb joan (to go) as [x]

[covenawhite66]

When the survivors of WWIII emerge from the aftermath, the devastation is blamed on human emotion. So when a new city-state called Libria arises, its citizens are banned from exhibiting any emotion at all.

This means music, literature, art, games, decoration, and more are all banned. Libria’s citizens are also required to take a daily drug called Prozium to suppress their emotions.

Enforcing these rules are Libria’s deadly elite law enforcement officers, the Clerics. They are led by the city’s authoritarian figurehead, known only as “Father.”

[boldlymagnificentperson]

12esima: Marco Grando

Ecco i libri segnalati da Marco Grando LibriA. Gavron, La collina

[stardusterkins]

I drew the girls with eyes and i have to countryhuman oc asr and kayeko and is Japanese

[flagzworld]

Flag of Liberia

The national Flag of Liberia was officially adopted on July 26, 1847.The flag is modelled after the U.S Stars and Stripes.The flag of Liberia is rectangular in shape and contains eleven horizontal stripes that alternate between red and white.The flag’s canton features a square blue field with a white star. flagsworld,The flag was officially adopted on July 26, 1847, upon the nation's independence.The Liberian flag exhibits some resemblance to the flag of the United States, which is partly explained by the historical connection between the two countries. https://social.mactan.com.br/read-blog/65903_flag-of-liberia.html

[hellohaters]

stills from the Equilibrium movie (2002), directed by Kurt Wimmer

[nicolacastellanodesigner]

#nicolacastellanodesigner #studiodiprogettazione #showroom #designer #design #interiordesigner #interiordesign #desktop #book #moleskine #architettura #ma0 #magenta #libria #libro #lovemyjob #cool (presso Nicola Castellano Designer)

[elipsi]

sto letteralmente piangendo, stiamo scrivendo la documentazione del progetto di programmazione, e questo tipo è riuscito a scrivere "libreria" in tre modi diversi, tutti sbagliati

[achingster]

Libia: Entre Somalia y Afganistán

Libia: Entre Somalia y Afganistán

Escribe: Guadi Calvo            

09/03/2017

Todo falla en Libia, las estrategias occidentales (Unión Europea y Estados Unidos), a partir del martirio del Coronel Muhammad Gadafi, en octubre de 2011, no solo no funcionaron, si no cada vez se encajan más en un lodazal de sangre, petróleo y arena, que ellos han creado.

2017 encuentra a Libia congelada como una fotografía cada vez más borrosa.

Desde…

[shemoansabs]

#repost ##aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libria #scorpio #saggitarius #capricorn #Aquarius #Pisces #astrology #horoscopes #zodiac #zodiacsigns #Love

[sonjatwogreyhounds]

Viggo (Mester Veg dell'Attimo Fuggente) e Kayla (Kollaps Stream) in una fotografia scattata al Parco Sempione di Milano da Luca Morselli. 

Con questa immagine è iniziato il progetto www.twogreyhounds.com (The Sighthound Bulletin) divenendone il disegno di testata, e successivamente il carattere separatore del libro "I lunghi musi di Gabriele d'Annunzio".

Siamo molto affezionati a questa immagine, ed è possibile trovarla così come è a pagina 255 del volume citato.

[cinebration]

Confirmation (John Preston x Reader) [Request]

If you are taking requests for Christian Bale how about one with John Preston realizing he has feelings for you after he defeats the rulers of Libria, a totalitarian city-state wear feelings were prohibited and many people still don’t understand how to feel such is the case with the reader… he senses that he is drawn to her and her to him… he finally gets the nerve to approach you and see if you feel the same - Maybe a kiss but you know better…A total fluff piece, what do you think?—Requested by @christianbalefanatic​

Warnings: mention of blood

Gif Source: filmfanatic

Overlooking the conflagrations igniting across the city like flares marking beacons, John Preston felt something radiating out from his chest. He glanced down, suddenly afraid he had been hit by a stray bullet, though he had not felt any impact.

No blood seeped through his white coat, the material as pristine as ever despite the bloodbath he had left in his destructive wake.

What, then, was the curious sensation unfurling within him? He probed at it gently, struggling to understand the new feeling.

That’s what it was, though—a feeling. An emotion he couldn’t place, couldn’t understand with his stunted emotional faculties.

He gazed back over Libria, hearing the shouts and cries of revolution reverberating through the streets, bouncing off the brutalist architecture. Was it pride, perhaps? Or a deep-seated sense of satisfaction? He couldn’t be sure.

Yet as he stood above it all, having been arbiter of the new change unfolding through the concrete streets, he thought not about the liberation occurring at his feet but of a person, someone he hadn’t expected to think of in that moment. It wasn’t Mary and her stern eyes or his own wife being led to the chamber. It wasn’t Partridge with his understanding gaze and the Yeats poetry collection in his hands.

It was you.

Strange that he should think of you in a moment like this. You worked in the same building as him, at one of those desks in front of him with the same exact layout as everyone else’s. You didn’t wear Grammaton black but dusty gray, the material cut exactly to your figure but in such a way that nothing was overly emphasized. It was the same uniform all the women wore and the non-Grammaton Cleric men, albeit with slight adjustments.

You wore your hair pulled back in a sharp bun as all the other women with long hair did, one unrecognizable head among a sea of heads with little buns perched atop the skull. John found himself wondering if you ever experienced a headache, an even stranger thought than merely thinking of you. After all, the hair seemed to be pulled so tight from your skull, twisted so tightly into the bun, you had to experience something, no?

Experience something.

John turned away from the window and slowly made his way through the sweeping halls as rebels rushed through the building, sweeping past him with not so much a look in his direction, too concerned with their own paths of destruction and freedom to care that he had done his part and opened the way to them.

He descended the steps, carefully sidestepping the corpses of the helmeted guards, and crossed the large plaza, deaf to the shouts ringing off the concrete city and the crackling of flames spreading out from the Prozium distribution centers.

Experience something.

You would soon be off the emotion-suppressant, as would everyone else in the city with the distribution centers so thoroughly destroyed. You would be experiencing emotion, proper sensation, for the first time.

And John wanted to be there for it, to watch you come apart and rebuild yourself anew from the riot of feelings that would sweep back to their rightful place.

Why? Why did he want to witness it, what should be an intimate and private moment reserved for yourself alone? Why intrude on such a beautiful thing?

Because he had been alone when he had experienced it, and that moment in such quiet solitude had done more damage to him than the emotions themselves. Unable to cry out and turn to someone to express his confusion and terror, he had instead been isolated, forced to keep silent. Even his own children, whom had been free of Prozium for much longer than he, had had each other to hold up.

He had been alone.

John ascended the small flight of steps in your tenement building to your door. Each door looked the same, painted gray with black metal fastenings on the wood indicating apartment number. John stopped before the one marked 6G and rapped his knuckles firmly against it.

His heart thudded in his chest, his palms sweaty in his gloves. He tore them from his hands, stuffed them in a pocket. The collar felt too tight around his neck, constricting air and blood flow. Sweat prickled along his forehead.

He had been calmer fighting his fellow Clerics than he did waiting for you to answer your door.

It swung open a fraction, your face appearing in the gap between frame and door. You frowned at him, your gaze sweeping over his face and uniform before resettling on him.

“Cleric Preston?”

The sound of your voice made his heart trip against his ribs, his breath hitching. Swallowing thickly, John nodded and struggled to dredge up words past his throat. Now that he was standing before you, he realized he didn’t know what to say.

The ratta-tatta of gunfire sounded up the street, audible even from inside the building. You glanced down the hallway toward the window, mild concern flickering across your beautiful features. A faint crease appeared between your eyebrows, almost nonexistent.

John wanted to rub his thumb over it, feel the way your skin and muscles reacted to his touch.

His mouth went dry.

“It’s over,” he managed to say. The words emerged on a shaky exhale.

“What is?”

“The oppression.”

He expected you to ask him what he meant by oppression, but you nodded slowly instead and stepped aside, widening the door to allow him to pass through. He hesitated, then entered your apartment.

It looked exactly like his, down to the layout. It unnerved him to be in what felt like his own home, an eerie replica that sent out reverberations of sameness and otherness simultaneously. How would you change the apartment after Prozium wore off? How would he change his?

“You look like you have been through chaos,” you said, wandering in after him. You changed direction, headed into the kitchen to pour some water into glasses.

“I have,” he mumbled, unsure what to do now that he was inside your home.

You handed him a glass and took a seat on the stiff, gray couch. He followed suit, perching himself on the cushion’s edge, unable to relax. His leg jittered under his left elbow, the water in his glass no longer as placid as it had been in your hands.

“You’re hurt.”

His tongue darted out to the cut on his lip, a twinge of pain lancing through the sensitive flesh there. “I know.”

You shook your head and gestured to your own neck, indicating with a finger an inch-long slice. “You’ve bled on your collar a bit.”

“Oh.” He reached up, gingerly felt the wound. It no longer wept blood, but it hurt to the touch, raw.

“Why are you here, Cleric?”

John glanced up from the blood on his fingertips and met your unblinking gaze. The directness of it unnerved him, forced him to look away as he swallowed thickly again. He loosened his collar, trying to find more air, to feel less sticky and hot. He could understand now why Prozium had its merits, how he had never experienced such anxiety before in his life nor felt its effects ravage his body.

“I’ve known you for years,” he managed to say.

“Yes, in a manner of speaking.”

He glanced up in confusion.

“We haven’t spoken much, Cleric. You have your job, I have mine. Not much causes us to cross paths.”

But I have seen the back of your head for years, seen the way you sit at your desk and carry yourself. Not once have you gotten up from your desk and crossed the room that I didn’t watch you to catch a glimpse of your profile.

“I would expect the savior of the revolution to be elsewhere at this time,” you added, speaking into the glass as you sipped the water.

“The…” He stared at you, blinking slowly as he struggled to process the meaning of your statement.

“We all have our parts to play.”

Gaping at you, the pieces clicked into place so suddenly and sharply that he nearly flinched in surprise. “You stopped taking Prozium.”

“Like you did.”

“How long?”

“Long enough.” You set the glass down. “So I ask you again: Why are you here?”

He swallowed thickly again, gulped greedily at the glass to lubricate his dry mouth and scratchy throat. Staring down at his hands clutching the cup, he started, “I was thinking of you…”

“Thinking of me?”

He jerked his head in a nod. “I thought…that you would be reeling from the Prozium withdrawals.”

“And you wanted to what?”

“To…to help you through it.”

You nodded. “That was noble of you. But it seems I’m the one who has to help you through yours.”

“What?”

You reached out and swept your fingertips across his slick brow. They came away shiny with sweat, beads of it rolling down your fingers. John cringed at the sight of it, then wondered what exactly cringing meant.

“You’re here,” you murmured, “because you want to know if I have been thinking of you.”

His breath caught again, not least of all because you had entered his personal space.

Then your lips were on his, gently kissing him and sending a shock through his system. He almost couldn’t respond, paralyzed by the sparks that flew down his nerves.

You pulled back just as his mind began to make sense of it, a soft smile tugging at your mouth. “Muddies the brain, doesn’t it?”

He could only manage a jumpy nod.

“I have thought of you. I never could’ve imagined that all of this would happen.” You gestured vaguely at the window in your living room toward the commotion confined outdoors. “I thought I’d have to live with a dream of you rather than experience the real thing.” Your fingertips ghosted along his jaw.

“This isn’t a dream,” he whispered back. It was nearly a question, perhaps some reassurance for him rather than reassurance for you.

“Doesn’t that make you…happy?”

He couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his lips. “Yes, I think that’s it.”

You leaned forward, ghosting over his mouth with yours, and asked, “Let’s confirm it, shall we?”

[kirliancamera1]

Kirlian Camera’s Elena Alice Fossi live in Germany.

> Elena Alice Fossi’s brief bio <

Italian-American composer/singer Elena Alice Fossi officially joined Kirlian Camera on 1st January 2000, after some early performances with them as a live & studio collaborator. She was formerly trained by Lady Susanna Rigacci (Oscar-winner Ennio Morricone’s most famous singer). EAF joined controversial act Stalingrad Valkyrie in the same period and gave life to projects Siderartica, Spectra*paris (golden disc 2008) and Alice Neve Fox (live activity only). She also collaborates/collaborated in studio and on stage with several musicians all around the world: Covenant, Black Needle Noise (This Mortal Coil), John Fryer (prod. of Nine Inch Nails, Depeche Mode, Cocteau Twins, etc.), Seasurfer, Beauty In Chaos (incl. members of The Cure, Mission/Sisters Of Mercy, Cheap Trick, Van Halen, Offspring, Ministry, etc.), Jean-Marc Lederman (Jean-Marc Lederman Experience, The Weathermen, Front 242, Kraftwerk’s Karl Bartos, etc.), Patrick Leagas (Death In June, Sixth Comm), Jarboe (The Swans), Illuminate, Solitary Experiments, Ulrike Goldmann (Blutengel), Les Joyaux De La Princesse, Fakeba, Libria, DJ Ramirez, Cyberap Overlord, Quintessenza, etc.

She left the world of high fashion as a model after very few photohootings for various stylists and related magazines (Borbonese, Armani, Wolford, Glamor Magazine, Corriere della Sera/most popular Italian newspaper, Io Donna Magazine, etc.), saying she was disgusted, but above all she wanted to dedicate her activity solely to music composition, singing, and video/audio studies. EAF even attended the Faculty of Political Science at the University of Pisa, Italy, and still very young she started teaching singing techniques in two Tuscan prof. schools. She was the first electronic music artist ever to be invited to perform West Africa, where she appeared for the first time in 2016, and quite recently took part in 2 CSD Festivals (Gay Pride) with her bands Kirlian Camera and Spectra*paris. She has never made any secret of her "queer" sexuality. Her social and political views have often been taken as "controversial", but she has always refused to declare her political and religious faith. This has brought her attacks and negative stances by some mainstream and politically correct press and socials. Elena Alice was born in the district of Miami (USA) to a Tuscan working class family who returned a few months later to Italy, a Country that Elena Alice loves deeply. And we love this authentic and uncompromising artist of incredible talent 🖤

[boldlymagnificentperson]

12esima: Enrica Lieta

Ecco i libri segnalati da Enrica Lieta LibriA. De Cespedes, Prima e dopoA. Baricco, Mr. Gwyn