skin staples

Beautiful Frankenstein

Warnings: A bit of swearing

Request: Can yoy do my requesting of a Jerome imagine where the reader puts Jerome’s face back on with needle and thread, lightly chastising him for using staples, to which he replies that the metal gave him an edge but she tells him that sowing it will make it heal faster.

Originally posted by twofacedharveydent

You never thought that you’d ever have to sew anything ever again after girl scouts. Especially not skin. But, of course Jerome never ceased to stay away from sharp objects or dangerous objects. So here you were peeling off your gorgeously handsome boyfriend’s face. The skin was hanging off his face with only  few staples left, that he put on on the way to your house. Meeting a staple you took some teasers and pulled it out.

“Why did you have to use staples?” You quietly asked him. “Its gross.”

You stuck your tongue out and gagged at Jerome. He cackled at you, and slapped his knee.

“Hold still J!”

“I’m sorry gorgeous you’re very amusing.” He said it both jokingly and sarcastically.

You rolled your eyes and pulled the last staple out. Putting them into a now  ruined little glass bowl.  You pulled a little bit harshly and he winced. Then proceeded to fakely hiss loudly.

“Yeah, yeah.” You murmured.

Cringing back you took the skin and held it up between your pointer finger and your thumb. Gently you laid it down on the table beside the small bowl of staples. Taking the needle you put the thread through it, getting it ready to sew Jerome’s face on.

“Why did you use staples?” You chastised more.

“Because it looked badass.” He whined, as he noticed you were chastising him.

“You looked like Frankenstein.”

He scoffed offended and slammed his hand on his heart. You giggled.

“Okay you have to hold still.”

“Do you really have to sew it?” He gave you a pouty lip.

“Well yeah.” You said confused.

“Why can’t I staple it?” He asked like a child. “It gave me an edge.”

Huffing you put your needle and thread down on the table. Then you proceeded to squat down meeting this level at which he was sitting.

“Jerome you have two choices. One, you can look like your old self and let me sew it so that you can heal. Or you can continue to tear up your skin and put staples in your face like Frankenstein.”

“Fine, fine, fine stitch me up princess.”

He sat up straight and closed his eyes. Slowly you lined the skin up with his face. Although it was gross you held it still without shaking. 

“Okay, handsome this is gonna sting.”

He chuckled and smiled, his face muscles pulled causing some blood to fall. You started sewing at the top of his head going slow. You looked down and saw Jerome’s hand clench the edge of the chair. Wincing you continued to stitch up his face. His skin was smooth and his muscles continued to bleed. You kept a wet towel for when the blood got onto the skin.  After around a careful hour of going very slow, his face was complete. 

“There you go sweetheart!”

“Fuck that wasn’t pleasant. But, then it was.”

You rolled your eyes and giggled as he pulled you into his lap. He kissed your cheek and spun you around to look at his new and improved face. You looked at your wonderful new piece of work.

“Jerome you better not fuck my masterpiece up,” You waved your hand from the top of his hand to the bottom of his chin. 

“Give it up gorgeous, i’m always beautiful.”

Filipina-British-American Immigrant

Hey everyone! I’ve been following this tumblr for a while and I love it. Not only has it addressed problematic representations of Asian people in the past, I have also learned a lot on portraying other non-Asian people of colour. I’m currently working on an alternate universe-dystopian novel where the Cold War turned “hot” but with people of colour as the main characters. I have come across novels that portray this, but it’s often from a white person’s perspective.

While I am fully Filipina by blood, I identify as a Fil-Brit-Am: born in the Philippines, lived in England for 12 years and currently live in America. Below is what I have experienced and/or observed.

Beauty Standards

Just like what some people have said on here, whiter = more attractive. In the Philippines, walk into any beauty store and you’ll instantly see tons of skin-whitening products. With women, pale skin was a beauty staple; with men, being handsome meant being “tall and dark”, but not “too dark”. In England, it was such a double standard. I went to a mainly white secondary/high school where for white girls, it was attractive to have tanned skin (the more tan = more attractive) while girls of colour were seen as the opposite. In America, you were “exotic” (my situation) or shamed.

Daily Struggles/Culture

Oh man. Balancing conservative Filipino values with those of the less conservative English was a struggle, especially going through puberty. While it was normal for my friends to hang out in the park after school everyday, date who they wanted and just get home before it was dark, my parents gave me a strict curfew (always way earlier than when my friends would go home) and pressured me to not date until finishing college. Back then, I resented my parents for what I saw as my lack of freedom. Looking back now, I understand why. We lived in a neighbourhood where crime was relatively high and during the time, it was also where a surge of immigrants from East Asia flowed into the UK. As you can imagine, our presence wasn’t welcomed. My parents were simply trying to protect me.

Dating and Relationships

For a lot of immigrants, education was THE way to progress to a more secure future. During my teenage years, my parents emphasized this with the whole “no dating until you finish college and have at least some form of a stable job”. They mellowed out after some time. In some talks with my mother, she said that my dad and her would prefer me to marry a Filipino because they would have a better understanding of our culture. However, if he is a good man, loving etc, the race wouldn’t matter. 


In England, I discovered staples such as the “English breakfast”, cake with custard, scones, fish and chips, Indian curry while keeping to Filipino dishes at home (adobo, pancit anyone?). Even though I had the option to bring lunch to school, I decided to have meals from the cafeteria. Whether that was from a moment of other children thinking my lunch food was weird or I feared of being seen as different, I can’t remember. In America (with more diverse communities anyway), they’re more open to food of other cultures.

History Repeating in the Workplace

Philippines - you’ve guessed it: colonialism. From beauty standards to power, whiteness is seen as the best. Just like another poster has said, it makes me sad that Filipino culture has been eradicated through the ages and that I never got to experience it.

England and America - Having benefited from colonialism, there is a lot of colonial mentality (though subtle). From stories I’ve been told from my parents and their generation, this is common in workplaces. White people are fine working with people of colour until they hear that a person of colour is applying to be their manager. Then they suddenly have a problem (with the whole mentality of “people of colour can’t be leaders” crap). 

Identity Issues

With three cultures part of my identity, I never really knew what my identity was or even how to identify myself. I always had the feeling of “belonging everywhere and nowhere” at the same time. it was only until last year that I discovered a term for it: third culture kid (or fourth for me I guess). Third culture kids are people who have developed multiple cultures from having lived in multiple places: one from their parents’ culture, one they grew up in and the third being a combination of the two. It has helped me with my depression, as it stemmed from the fact that I had no label to call myself while everybody else seemed to. If you are like me, I would suggest the book Third Culture Kids: Growing Up Among Worlds by Ruth E. Van Reken and David C. Pollock. It helped me a lot.


In England, discrimination was more towards the Asian community (in particular, the Muslim community despite living there for a long time). In secondary school (high school), I had the typical comments of “chink” and talking to me in a mocking Chinese accent. I remember one time when a guy asked me where I was from - I answered “Philippines” and he immediately said, “so basically Japan?” *rolls eyes* 

As I was raised Catholic, the family went to church every Sunday. After some time, due to some pressure from my mother, I became an altar server. We became pretty close to the church community. What I didn’t remember is when we first attended mass, (as my parents told me later) they had openly looked at us with disgust. This shocked me as I couldn’t imagine the church goers being so mean. Talk about “loving your neighbour”. Makes me wonder what would have happened if I didn’t become an altar server…

Things I’d like to see less of

- Asian women being portrayed as submissive, shy, petite or as the Dragon Lady

- Asian women only being seen as scientists (with the whole smart, nerdy Asian trope). What about writers? Mechanics? Musicians? Leaders even?! One of my characters is an Asian woman who is an investigative journalist.

Thing’s I’d like to see more of 

- Asian people being friends with or at least, being respectful towards non-Asian people of colour (in particular, black people). It’s my hope that my generation and the ones after ours will bridge that gap.

- That writers of colour get more representation. 

I look forward to learning more from y'all!!

Read more POC Profiles here or submit your own.

Hallucinations: His Return

This is Part 2 to my original imagine Hallucinations! I suggest if you haven’t already read part 1 go do so! Warnings - a few choice words, innuendos, and a brief sensual scene Also, thank you everyone who reads and comments and likes and reposts! It absolutely means the world to me! I love all 3,000+ of you! :3 now enjoy! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


“Miss me, doll face?” The ginger smirked at you, his smile a little off putting. You took a few steps back, his presence and reality causing you to lose your breath.

The events from last night were playing through your mind. Everything else around you was blurry and tuned out. You saw him die and now 8 months later here he was, alive and well. Well maybe not “well”, but well.

You were now standing on a roof of the building. Jerome was looking through binoculars at the damaged he caused at an abandoned warehouse. He knew you were still in awe and maybe even confusion. You didn’t say one word to him the last five days. You couldn’t bring yourself to.

“I know. You’re speechless, how could you be here, I can’t believe my eyes! I’ve heard it all before. So…how you been? If you ask me, I’ve had a not so great few days. Woke up, some dude steals my face, you know I had to go through all this work to find you.”


“You don’t have to stand there and say nothing.”


“Almost a week and not one word. That just chomps at my dick, but I guess that’s fair, considering the face, the voice, and all heh. But how about kiss?” He walked towards you already expecting you’d just plant one right on him. However, that’s not how you were feeling tonight. You were planting something on him alright, it just wasn’t what he’d thought it would be.

Anger, finally eating up the fear inside you, you gave the undead psychopath a giant fist to his “face”.

“I honestly just stapled that into place!” He whined. “You sure do pack a punch though, hot stuff.”

You stumbled back once more after seeing a piece of his skin bend over his eye.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t you hear? Stapling your skin back together is the new style! Apparently so is coming back to life.”

“What’s wrong with you?” You blurted out, your now bloodied hand in a fist.

“Lots of things. You’re gonna have to be more specific.” He closed one eye as he stapled his skin.

“You come back and think everything would be fine again? That you could sit here and make jokes? That I would just kiss you because your back? Well I’m not laughing, Jerome. Especially since this was all your fault! You don’t know what it was like, seeing you dead. To be living without you. I told you NOT to go to that show that night and you didn’t take what I said into consideration at all. I suffered pain, depression. I cried every night realizing you weren’t by my side anymore. But for some reason I felt like it was all my fault. And you made me feel like it was my fault.”

Jerome stifled a laugh. “Class acting, baby. You want an award?”

“Screw you.” You pushed past him, walking down the stairway.

“Please do. I have a major boner from seeing you this angry.”

“Please just take me back home. I’d rather not see you ever again.”

“Whoa, whoa don’t be like that.” Jerome smirked, grabbing your waist and trapping you on each side with his arms. “You mean to tell me you don’t miss me? All the things I said to you…all the things I did to you. Remind me, dollface. Where’s that sweet spot of yours again? Somewhere down here?”

You bit your lip as Jerome’s hand found it’s way into your pants. Your eyes fluttered closed and the memories then began to float back like a calm river. You used to tell Jerome all about your dirty thoughts and he’d satisfy them, leaving you out of breath and seeing stars for days. His lips met yours and then made their way down your neck. It gelt like those old times again. You almost forgot what was actually going on.

You let out a quiet moan and arched your back against the wall. Jerome then proceeded to make his way down to your breasts.

A deep chuckle came from the back of his voice, vibrating through his chest. It snapped you out of your thoughts and you pulled away from him. Now you were even more angry than you were before. You couldn’t believe you almost let him put his fingers in your-

“Pussy.” He laughed at you. “You used to give in to your needs.”

“They’re not wants nor needs, Valeska! And I told you…I don’t like that word.”

“I on the other hand love the word and I for a fact love how it tas-” You kicked him down the stairs and all you saw was a ginger tumbleweed rolling down three flights. An audible “ow!” during each step he rolled down.

As he finally made it to the last step, he winced. “That hurt more than I thought it would.”

You hopped off the very last step with grace and ease, giving a little bow to taunt. “I actually do kind of miss you. This is kind of actually the most fun I’ve had in a while.”

“Then how about it some more fun?” Jerome wheezed, holding his now hunched over back. “In fact! I have a plan! And yes, you’re involved.” He pulled out a gun pointing it at you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You backed away from him, eyes on the weapon in his head.

“Turns out there’s a few loonies out there who worship me, heheh. Mm we get them and we find Bruce Wayne and kill him! I have been meaning to for awhile now. Just couldn’t point my mind in the right place.”

“Why do you need me then?”

“Because you cupcake, are the hostage.”


“Mmphmmmmpgh!” Jerome tied you up so you wouldn’t scream or give away anything to Bruce. “Mmmmphhgghhh!”

“I love you too.” Jerome smiled, leaving a kiss on your forehead. The Wayne Manor was a wreck by now. Bruce and Alfred standing right in front of you. His eyes furrowed deciding on what he should do.

“Bruuuuccccieee. I’m not going to ask again. The girl or the Butler. I mean I’m still going to kill you afterwards, but I want you to choose here, buddy!”

One of the loonies, pushed you forward so you fell on to the floor.

Bruce’s eyes immediately met yours, worry and fear playing on his features. He couldn’t let you die, but he couldn’t let Alfred die either.

After the thug placed the gun to your head, Bruce finally spoke up. Trading his life for the both of yours. Jerome snuck a wink at you, to assure no harm was ever going to come to you.

Take her to the car.“

It had been at least ten minutes, and the manor lamps glowed from within, not a shadow or sign of movement in sight.

"AHAH! GREAT NEWS!” Jerome screamed startling everyone in the car! “Looks like Bruce will be joining us for the carnival!”

Carnival? What carnival?“ Lennie asked.

"It looks more like a circus!” Gregory butted in.

“Shut up you two! You’ll see when we get there.” Jerome groaned. He then turned to you and smiled at you. “Sorry, I forgot.” He shrugged, pulling the tape off your mouth.

“Ow!” You screamed headbutting his nose.

He only laughed in response. “I would take you right here and now but this might not be suitable for all ages.” He motioned to Bruce.

“Over my dead body, Valeska.” You rolled your eyes as he began to run his fingers up your thigh.

“Preferably IN your dead body.”

You leaned forward so Bruce could see you. “Next time, I suggest you pick me.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lights and rides and games surrounded all of you. The air was filled with screams and death. Dried and fresh blood on parts of the ground. These were innocent people. You and Bruce shared a glance.

Jerome took a deep breath and nodded. “Perfect.” You admit it was little things like those that turned you on and he knew it to. You could see he truly wanted things to go back to the way they were. A part of you wanted the same. But that quickly left your mind when you saw a knife perfectly thrown into someone’s skull.

“Oh fu-”

@ohbeeone said: rebelcap 11 or 15! :)
[“don’t touch me” or “is that- blood?” from this list]

These prompts made so much sense for the MSF AU that I couldn’t resist fitting them into that universe. And I managed to work both of them in, too…

Jyn slams into Cassian’s room in her usual whirlwind fashion and drops her drone case on the floor with a bang. “I’m starving,” she announces. “Please tell me you have some food stashed in here.”

Cassian doesn’t look up from his datapad. It’s been a long day, and he’s got to submit these records soon or tomorrow will be even longer. He can’t allow Jyn to distract him now. “Let me finish dictating these notes, then I’ll see if Melshi left anything in the kitchen.”

He can hear Jyn throw herself on his bed with a groan. The bedding rustles as she stretches her arms over her head and burrows into his lumpy pillow. He resists the temptation to look and keeps murmuring into the pad, straining to recall the details of a particular patient file.

“Where’s the murderbot?” Her voice is indistinct, muffled by fabric, but Cassian can just make out the words.

“I loaned K-2 to the search and rescue crews. They could use the droid power.”

Jyn doesn’t respond. Cassian wonders if she’s alright; she was filming the digging, and it must have been brutal. The aftermath of these mudslides is one of the worst things he’s seen in a long time—and MSF is only dealing with the survivors who are pulled out in a condition to be treated. He glances over, but her face is buried in the pillow and all he can see is the back of her head. There’s a dark smear running down her neck.

“Is that blood?” His voice is louder and sharper than he intended.

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Gryffindor Cosmetic/Skincare Moodboard: Being the house associated with the sun Gryffindors are commonly prone to dry skin so they focus on skincare centered around moisturizing and calming elixirs. Gryffindors are very take-it-or-leave-it with cosmetics, those who like cosmetics tend to go for bold eyes and striking nails. Glitter and black eyeliner are often seen on Gryffindors. Tranquil baths with tea leaves added to soothe warm and burned skin is a recurrent staple in a Gryffindors bath. 

[ Gryffindor | Hufflepuff | Ravenclaw | Slytherin ]

anonymous asked:

May I request a scenario on how Dabi and his s/o started dating? Maybe he stalked her or something. I'm not good at giving descriptions haha.

Sure beans! Actually, I’m planning a full out multi-chapter fic on Dabi/(Fem)Reader that’ll be released soon <3 look out for it! This is completely different from that fic tho LOL… 2nd pov!

When you came to, the first thing you noticed was the dull ache on your cheek, throbbing and burning. The second thing you notice was that you were being carried on broad shoulders down an alleyway.

“…Dabi..?” You ask, and he answers in a groan.

“You’re finally awake. Why do you always get in these situations?” He prods, glancing up at you from his peripheral. “I have stuff to do, you know.”

“But you still came to help,” You poke his cheek with your left hand and he jerks his head away. The rest of the way back to your apartment is filled with comfortable silence, except your cheek was far from comfy whatsoever.


“Stay still, dumbass, unless you want the bruising to get worse,” Dabi clicks his tongue at you, smashing the ziplock bag full of fridge ice against your cheek again. You yelp, and grapple at his arms, trying to get him away. Dabi’s much stronger though, and keeps the pack pressed against your cheek. 

“I mean, I don’t, but you don’t have to literally punch my cheek with that pack?” You reply, wiping a stray tear from your eye. He just chuckles.

“It’s punishment for making me have to save your rebellious ass.”

“Me? Rebellious?? I’m sorry Dabi, but you’re in the Villain Alliance and I work at an arcade.” You press a finger to his chest. “At least I pay my taxes.”

“Taxes are for suckers, live on the edge.” he grabs your wrist, pushing it back from his chest. His hands are warm, and surprisingly soft despite the tattered skin and “staples”. You find yourself getting lost in his striking blue eyes. he stares back with his usual poker face before leaning in to kiss you. It’s not a soft kiss, it’s rough with lots of teeth clacking and passion and adrenaline. When you both part, you smile up at him.

“Ok, I’ll be your girlfriend, Dabi.”

And somehow, you both dating actually came to be, without Dabi or yourself really noticing. 

  • Fuyumi: you stapled your skin back together? That's so unsanitary, you could risk some serious illness!
  • Dabi: yeah
  • Fuyumi: why?
  • Dabi: it seemed like a cool idea at the time
  • Fuyumi: are you even alive?
  • Dabi: I have NO idea I'm pretty sure pure spite is the only thing keeping me on my feet right now
My top 10 tips for clear skin

I’ve been asked about what I do to keep my skin as clear as possible so I thought I’d make a list of the top 10 most important tips to keep in mind (in no particular order of importance)

1. Drink LOTS of water. Your skin needs a lot of water to keep properly hydrated throughout the day. A good way to know how much water you should be drinking is to devise you weight by half, and drink that number in ounces of water each day.

2. Cut out the dairy. I’m not saying to dismiss it all together, but cutting down on it when possible will help your skin feel lighter an breathe easier.

3. Use a foaming cleanser. If you want to use a spot treatment or toner or any other addons is up to you, but I highly recommend a foaming cleanser as your staple skin cleaner. The foaming technology helps to remove excess makeup and oils better than normal cleaners.

4. Moisturize. For some, this seems like a step to skip because if their skin type, but I can promise you, if you do the former step, which you should, you need to moisturize. Cleansers dry out your skin, and it can cause even people with the oiliest skin to break out. Lotions can even counter your skins natural oils and help to eliminate oily skin.

5. Sweat it out. Exercise seems to be the answer to everything these days, and it holds true into your skin care routine. Sweating helps to clear out your pores clogged from a hard day at work or school and can really reduce future breakouts. Try to avoid exercising with makeup on to really reap the benefits.

6. Sleep 8-10 hours each night. I know this is really difficult to do when we factor in responsibilities, but sleep is a crucial time for the skin to breathe and repair itsself. The more time you give your body to rest, the better it will look and feel.

7. Don’’t touch your blemishes. Picking and popping it or merely just putting your hands on your face can enflame any blemishes, or cause more to happen. Constant attention can result in permanent scars and marks as well. Cleanse, moisturize, and let your face heal itself.

8. Salt water. If you live in a place where you have easy access to the ocean suitable for swimming in, take advantage of it, your skin will love you for it. If not, heat sea salt slightly in a bowl of fresh water and use a bath towel to coat your face with it. The heat will open your pores and the salt will help to clear them. If you use this step, moisturize when you’re done.

9. Change your pillow cases at least once a week. If we lay our face on the same surface time and time again, we will recycle bacteria back onto our skin. Keeping a clean bed can help your skin stay fresh and healthy.

10. Be Frank. My last tip is to use a scrub called FrankBod if possible. It’s packed with awesome stuff that helps to clear scars and marks and prevent future breakouts. You can order it from any where in the world for 14.95 at

I hope these tips are useful to you and help you achieve your best skin x

Phalloplasty | 11 days post op images

as with all posts on this blog I ask for these to be used as information purposes only. If I find these being shared or talked about in any inflammatory way I will remove the posts. I am a human, this is my body, please be kind.

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I will spend the better part
of this dance
loving you the wrong way.
Building cathedrals
on your shoulders,
making porcelain of your jawline.
Idolatry is my way of saying
that the angels are still proud
of the tricks they pulled
to sculpt you. You have
dying lungs
and in the morning,
you smell like soil,
and you have taught me
how to stomach addiction
like it is just a promise,
just a diamond rimmed habit.
I will spend the better part
of this dance not realizing
I am better than worship,
not realizing I would like to learn
how first to sew chapels
and monuments into my own skin,
staple stainglass windows to my peripheral
as reminders to love myself
and let myself keep myself,
before you.
—  May I Have This Dance, May I Forget it Afterwards? | Ramna Safeer