#ivan smith

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

Name: Ivan Smith

Nicknames: Ivy (Aya), Van, Van-Man, Van with the Plan (all by Jac), Dog (Janet), Spot, Emo-Boy, Mama's-Boy (outsiders), Puppy (Estella)

Birthday: January 25th

Age: 18

Height: 5'6

Appearance: Ivan is a pale boy with vitiligo and lots of freckles with black hair usually short cut and groomed well with one half of his hair bleached white or red depending on the occasion for him, big round soft very light brown eyes, black finger nails, rings on his fingers, and thee piercings on his ears

Clothing: His wardrobe is usually always in fashion and somewhat "Gothic" if you well, red and blacks being the main color scheme with some white thrown in if he wants. But his primary outfit is black button up shirt with a red sweater vest and a old black leather jacket, a pair of black cuffed ripped jeans with fishnet leggings underneath, white socks and black doc-martens with a worn out black dog collar to match the the look

Personality: Very brash and tough acting, bluntly honest without a care if it hurts your feelings, and overall sarcastic and sassy though loyal beyond compare and nice once you get to know him, his act of toughness comes from his fear of abandonment. In other words he's Tao from Heartstopper

Schooling: 1st Year of college studying fashion and art

Likes: Jazz music, Hot Topic, Alternative music, fashion, pasta, spa trips, summer, Autumn trends, playing his instruments, Paramore, Panic! At he Disco, teas, art museums, walks in the forests, Elvis Presley, reading, thrift stores, old French films, World War movie documentaries, smoking weed, chocolate shakes, beef tacos, meatball subs, Mnt Dew, Lattes, Starbucks, Halloween

Dislikes: Being picked on by his vitiligo, being called emo-boy, getting lusted after cause he's Goth, someone lusting after his friends when it's clear they aren't comfortable, sexism, really bad fashion trends, horizontal strip patterns on shirts, really cold winter or fall, losing or breaking his vinyl records, cheaters, art thieves, copy-cats, cats, racism, when someone interrupts a movie night, being left our or not able to do something, really crazy theorize, being hit on the back that isn't a friendly or familial back pat/rub, werewolves

Abilities: Cooks, sewing, drawing, outfit/costume making, makeup (really good at eyeliner), fast runner, can lift heavy things

Story: Ivan was a small boy from a very poor family in Croatia and during one trip to England when he was 6 he was abandoned by his parents at a park in London where he was then found and taken in by police who sent him to an orphanage. The orphanage staff and kids weren't too nice ti him, often picking on him and the staff putting him on timeout whenever they think he did something bad even if it's proven he didn't, he dealt with some rude people not adopting him by his appearance and the fact he struggled with English and had a stutter.

Then, he met Estella Smith, a well known fashion designer and animal activist who was visiting her home town on tour and happened to see Ivan sitting alone. The next day she came back and adopted him saying he has inspired her with his rare and unique beauty. By then he was in that orphanage from 6 to 9 years of age.

She then took him back to her home in America and helped taught him English with her childhood best friends and later on Ivan's uncle figures' help, fed him, bathe him, and treated him well. Though he still suffered with the trauma of being abandoned and abused at such a young age he needed to see a psychiatrist from the age of 10 which Estella paid for and he was diagnosed with anxiety and PTSD which made him feel terrible and began to draw out his feelings. Estella found a piece of art and after getting permission to borrow it she made Ivan a special suit based and inspired by his art.

After that he began to learn the world of fashion and art with Estella's help and began to help work in her shop and even began to learn how to make clothes and costumes himself. During this time he met Jac and the two have never once separated from each other's sides though their guardians can feel the chaos oozing from their hangouts or when they lock eyes across the room. Currently he's in school studying to help Estella's fashion business more and work part-time at a cafe near campus

Name Meanings: Ivan - Slavic for "God is gracious" Smith - Old English for "to hit" or "to strike"

[tiredart247]

Finally after 30 1/2 hours with breaks, it's done. My son is done. 2nd Arc aka Corruption. Lovely intersex child of mine. Ivan Smith my Russian child.

[lanphobic]

I have a feeling some of these have already been made but ehhhhh

[wonderlands-ass]

I think I'm funny pt3

(This is all your fault for boosting my ego)

[legendarytragedynacho]

Ivan Kral and Patti Smith by Gary Green

[vivanightcity]

[trish-jenner-fan]

Créditos al creador del comic @lidensword

Mini cómic de una noche en el museo 2 con Loquendo

[plathski]

medea killing her children - pelagio pelagi / susan smith - wych elm / saturn devouring his son - francisco goya / ivan the terrible and his son ivan - ilya resin

[flight-to-mars]

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

May please ask how did ocs react to Valerie?

Ehehehehehehehehheheheheheheheh

Their first meeting was all with Valerie being a lovely host for dinner and were amazed

She's so pretty and strong and takes care of seven kids mainly by herself so they were impressed

Though sadly there was a slight issue. . .

When Valeria is welcoming everyone, a little force habit of being very welcoming since they seem like her actual children, Charles flinched around her. He tries to smile and laugh it off as he walked it but it was obvious. He was abused by his mother and only knew that and the gentle touch of the nurses when he was being treated for his injuries. He wasn't really allowed to touch his new guardian due to her own injuries so most times he hugs his friends or his pillows

Aya was the most eager to meet her, there was just something about these two meeting was strong

Sia, though she had fun, was a bit thick walled at first. She found it hard to trust her as a mom at first until she started seeing it first hand in not just her own kids but her treating them, her guests, as if they were her kids as well and often praising each of them so much

Joseph was kind of a mix of Sia and Charles with him not having a real mom vibe for a real long time and was distance with her at first, that fixed fast

Maria was flustered cause Valerie was actually treating her like how parental people should

I'll put what I put in their dinner reblog here:

"Oh, I have some baby pictures of my kids, wanna see them?" "MOM!" "YES!"

Heads turn and look at Janice who's eyes shimmer with herself nearly out the table. She LOVES kids and baby pictures are a must to see

Between pictures being passed and conversations being made, pretty much everyone began to feel comfortable around Valerie in her home, especially the ones who lack a mother in their lives

At one point in the night Joseph's phone goes off hinting someone's trying to call in which he asked Valerie if it's okay to answer on speaker, she agrees and hit's answer to hear his step-mother instantly bickering in the phone which he kept calm and silent as he let her go off about how the place isn't cleaned and how she was out shopping all day and his dad is mad and blah blah blah

After she was done he hung up and stated "And this is why I get high."

He stops and looks at Valerie before stammering, "In high I mean, high in my grades. Like, wow, my grades are through the roof..heh... Wow..wow.. this uh...this chicken taste amazing Mrs Kemonohito.." While Jac tries to not laugh

Suddenly Sha thought of something

"Oh yeah, Nadia, your brothers mentioned a boyfriend you had. What he do?"

The table thought long in hard how to explain Mozenrath without informing the whole he's an immortal demisexual sorcerer who has a floating talking eel as his only friend

"...He does trades. Travels a lot."

Later in the night when desert was about to be present Marie looked at her phone and began to gather her things, "Sorry everyone. I have to go help father at the church tonight."

Janice sighs, "You help every night, I'm sure Mr Stick-Up-The-Butt can let you have fun just this once."

Maria chews her lip and shuffled on her feet, "Yeah.. But me and Hugo got this awesome new booking cleaning set. Like it cleans faster than my old feather duster and plus the statues aren't going to wash themselves." She said with a semi forced smile

Janice playfully pouts before standing and going to Maria, "Want me to want you home princess?" Maria blushes, "Oh no no no, I..I can walk just fine Jan, thanks for the offer."

Janice looks behind Maria to the table who just watches them in silence with Jac silently going to kissing motion with Jack staring at him confused and Wilhelm mouthing "Tell her, tell her"

Janice breaths in, "We'll see you tomorrow then."

Maria nods and walks out after thanking for the stay and Janice sits back in her chair where all her friends voice an array of disappointment

Wilhelm puts his head in his hands "I've known you both for years and that was hard to watch..." He mumbled

"Come on guys, it wasn't the right time-"

"You two could easily be in Paris fucking France, dancing in the moon light with roses everywhere while the Lady and the Tramp Italian dudes are singing that song where the spaghetti kiss happened and you'd STILL say it wasn't the right time!" Whined Aya as she slumped in her chair

"She could be straight-" She stopped when Sia stared at her like "don't even joke that idea"

Wilhelm finds her very fun

Janice is being her overly charming self as always

Ivan kept looking at his place not of embarrassment but cause Valerie kept filling it

Sha giggles as Valerie praises her

Jac was. . . really trying not to be his usual self

[p-c-ba-dcforever]

December's marks 80 years of the first Lady of the All-Star Squadron, Liberty Belle! Let's celebrate her with a bunch of DC greats!

[atomic-chronoscaph]

Randotti Skulls (1960s-1970s)

[wonderlands-ass]

idk dudes

Plus images separate under cut ;)

[mywifeleftme]

365: Patti Smith // Horses

Horses Patti Smith 1975, Arista

There’s a man named Nicky Drumbolis who lives up in Thunder Bay, Ontario, in an apartment that doubles as perhaps Canada’s greatest bookstore almost no one has ever seen. The septuagenarian Drumbolis is short and nearly deaf, a master printmaker and eccentric autodidact linguist. For years he ran a second-hand shop on Toronto’s Queen St. called Letters, until push (the size of his collection) came to shove (skyrocketing rent) and he went north, where he could afford a sufficiently large space to spread out. Unfortunately, Thunder Bay has little market for antiquarian books and micro press ephemera, and his shop is located on one of the most crime-ridden streets in the country. And so, the transplanted Letters has no storefront—in fact, the building looks derelict, its windows boarded up and covered with what at first glance seems to be graffiti but on closer inspection resembles a detail from the cave paintings at Lascaux. Letters’ patronage is limited to the online traffic in rare first editions that brings him a small income, and the occasional by-appointment adventurer willing to make the long, long 1,400 km drive from Toronto or further abroad.

When you enter, you find yourself in what appears to be a well-kept single room used bookstore, the kind there used to be dozens of in every major city. Books of every type and topic line the shelves, neatly arranged by category, and a long glass display features more delicate items, nineteenth century broadside newspapers and the like, some so fragile they seem on the verge of crumbling into dust. But this is not, Drumbolis warns you as soon as you attempt to take a book off of the shelf, a bookstore: this room is a facsimile, a tribute exhibit to as he calls it, “the fetish object formerly known as The Book.” The real bookstore lies in the chambers beyond this front room, the full catalogues of bygone presses, the one-of-one personal editions he’s assembled over decades of following his personal obsessions, the stacks which crowd his own modest sleeping quarters.

To Drumbolis, the original utility of the book as a container and mediator of information is now effectively passed; virtually every popular book in existence has been digitized, their contents instantly available in formats that are better-indexed, more easily parsed, and more readily transferrable than the humble physical book ever allowed. To desire a book is to desire possession of the thing rather than its contents, this edition, this printing, perhaps this particular copy that once passed through the hands of someone significant. He can show you the copy of John Stuart Mills’ On Liberty that was owned by Canada’s founding father John A. MacDonald, and argue convincingly that this object helped set the course of a nation’s history; or a set of Shakespeare’s complete works bearing Charles Dickens’ ex libris, which sets off a long anecdote about how Dickens liked to troll his houseguests with a collection of fake bookshelves. Drumbolis’s collection is threaded through his life like an old wizard in a fantasy novel whose flesh has fused with the roots of a tree: he eats with his books and he sleeps with them; collecting fuels his arcane research and dictates where and when he travels; 25 years ago he uprooted his life when his collection bade him, and though he’s starved for company in the frozen city it chose for him, he abides.

My own case of collectivitis is not so advanced, though Lord only knows what I’ll be like when I’m Old (I’m currently 47). And despite the conceit of this blog, I’ve seldom spent much time in these reviews dwelling on the physical properties of my records, evaluating the relative merit of pressings and the like (or even mentioning which one I’ve got). But as I sit here listening to my copy of Patti Smith’s Horses for the first time, I feel a small but definite sense of wonderment. It’s an early ‘80s Canadian pressing, so near-mint I might’ve stepped back in time and bought it new, still with what I take to be the original inner-sleeve, pale azure (to match the Arista disc label) with a texture almost like crepe paper.

It’s a delightful, surprising contrast to the iconic black and white cover portrait of Smith by her former paramour Robert Mapplethorpe. Generations of fans have stared at this image as they listened, not simply because Smith is hot (though this is undeniably true) but because the music’s visionary qualities demand an embodied locus. That a record, unlike a book, can speak aloud, has always primitively fascinated me; that this one contains what I can only describe as rituals makes it magical, this physical copy that is unique because it’s this one that is speaking to me in this moment. 

 Smith writes on the back of the sleeve:

“…it’s me my shape burnt in the sky its me the memoire of me racing through the eye of the mer thru the eye of the sea thru the arm of the needle merging and jacking new filaments new risks etched forever in a cold system of wax…horses groping for a sign for a breath…”

“charms, sweet angels,” she concludes. “you have made me no longer afraid of death.” The record becomes an extension of Smith’s body as it existed in that time—I think here of the physicality of the moment in “Break it Up” where you can faintly hear her striking her own chest with the flat of her palm to make her voice quaver. It makes me wonder how anyone could sell this thing once they have it: not because it is particularly rare or difficult to acquire, but because it’s hard for me to imagine the experience of slipping the lustrous black disc from its dressing and setting the needle down upon it as anything but a personal one. It is poetry and waves; the subliming of the idea of a rave-up; Tom Verlaine shedding his earthly mantle in an explosion of birds; John Cale; Kaye, Král, Daugherty, and Sohl; one of my boys from Blue Öyster Cult; the pounding of hooves and the Mashed Potato.

I suppose what I’m describing is a fetish, my pleasure in acquiring these things and writing these reviews the hard and strange work of finding life’s joy in its dusty corners. This year has run through my fingers like water, as it seems they all do now. But on my good days, all these words behind me and the records in front of me seem like a document of abundance.

365/365

[pensfan4lfe2]

VEGAS GOLDEN KNIGHTS || 2023 STANLEY CUP CHAMPIONS!

[nofatclips]

25th Floor and High on Rebellion by Patti Smith Group from the album Easter