#broken bra

[phenomenally-skilled]

Source

[christinered]

Wondering what you're looking at?

I am being attacked once again by my underwire demi bra!

You boys have no idea what pain is ...and I really honestly and truly wish you did.

Ladies I know you understand.

Stabbed in the arm pit. Screaming out in pain. Look like a crazy person.

Lucky me.

~Red

[ddagent]

You should not have done that. Well, what's done is done. No, what's done is now undone. You're fired, Molly.

[oozeandgoo-art]

Kat and Kit - socially-inept Martian jack-of-all-trades hireable hands

Kat: not a stern and cold no-nonsense type nor particularly mean, just enamored with responding monosyllabicly and enthusiastic about safety gear

Kit: not actually a femme fatale, truthfully a blood knight battle fiend who has learned that Martian!TSA won't check the lining of her bra if she flirts with them and is confident this technique will also work elsewhere

[noelle-v]

God forgive me for I've sinned 🛐🫦

His jawline, his eyes, his lips, they're all so tempting 🫦 I'm not to blame, I just couldn't resist 😏

[t4tails]

the problem with arkham poison ivy isnt even that her outfits revealing its that its fucking ugly

[agp]

forreal tme and tma is kinda dumb. thats like the terfs saying amab and afab as misogyny exempt and misogyny affected. exactly like them! why do we do identity politics so lazily?

[phenomenally-skilled]

Source

[rabbitsinwonderland]

going to a concert tonight and I kinda but also don't know what I wanna wear and I also don't wanna ruin the clothes that I Do know I wanna wear. so I'm walking around the house in a sports bra, shitty denim shorts I've worn all week, lesbian kandi bracelet on my arm, and stupidly large earrings in my ears. gonna have chicken noodle soup

[yeliuxi]

On the list of things I got excited about today: Found the exact brand and type of bra online that I was dumb and didn't look at before throwing out when getting rid of my old one

[dammitkat1e]

Holy shit my tiddies are HEAVY, i didnt think they were big enough to cause back pain but lifting them immediately fixes it super hard. Ive been trying to fix my posture to help my back but its been hard and i didnt realise that was because i was hulking around these fucking milk tanks around. I need to get some better bras.

[ceruleansol]

Inspired by that post of someone putting their tea bag on a piece of paper as a form of divination and it made a bear

I asked what illusion needs to be made known to me and it’s literally just time

[goldemas1244]

Do you think Zhask died of a broken heart?

Inside of you there is a darkness. The darkness bears young, two indiscriminate youths: The Abyss, and The Emptiness.

The Abyss is a thing that grows. It's a blooming wildflower in the midst of a desert. It feeds on the fear and longing, the passion and perfection. It disgusts, it brings sorrow, it kills.

But The Abyss stares back. And sometimes it answers.

The Emptiness is a void. It's a black hole twisting shapes into protons and plasma yet splitting atoms into pieces. No light may enter, yet no light can exist. It's a paradox, it's a sentiment, it's a blind man's sight.

The Emptiness is a hole in the heart. It tears the strings and leaves you breathless.

A man may acknowledge The Emptiness only when The Abyss has fled. Every canyon is filled with water once, every chasm can be filled.

To pine and want and love and reciprocate... those are blessings brought on by The Abyss. But what if The Abyss is filled? The Emptiness takes over.

But The Emptiness?

No man survives that wasteland.

---

How can I answer this question? To be fair, I've never lost a love before. I've lost friendships, I've been discouraged, but no, not really.

But I have yearned.

When it all ends, with a kiss and a ring, does he still kneel? Does he sit back, lean against a wall, breathless? Do tears stream from his eyes as his teeth clench? Does he twirl the gold in his hands, aching for a world where he and his love were together? Where he was perfect?

Does he curl up? Does he beg?

A poor man with want of looks, losing to one much better than him, yet much worse than him. And no matter his prayers he can never change, despite all that is required of him. Everyone else is Dr. Jekyll. He is Mr. Hyde. A twisted sack of flesh in a lab nobody dares enter. A fool. A monster.

I've felt that. It's a rib-shattering feeling. You think you've gotten a footing but then you slip and fall yet again. And when it happens I kneel and I yearn. I yearn for a life different from one I've led. I yearn for what I've lost, what I've gained. I yearn for another chance.

But I don't yearn for long. The hours pass and I am never alone. The room is filled and I have to push the heart aside to make room for the mask. I calm down. My heart doesn't break. I HAVE to live.

But the Phantom? He is alone. He isn't like me, with daily calls to my mother, or a favourite person to look forward to, even if there is still a glimmer of hope Christine will return to him. He isn't like me, with so many tasks to do I give up on them. He isn't like me at all.

He's alone. With nobody to latch onto anymore. An outcast, with no connections. While the Opera has much to offer, there is nothing he can live for. No new singer can replace the burning of his unrequited passion. No new event, nor manager, nor chance at life.

And so he pines. He pines and pines away until at last his heartstrings can never bear the pressure. The loss of a love is a harsh one. Science can back it up. Too much pressure and a heartstring will snap. Oxygenated and deoxygenated blood will mix. You will drown in your own blood.

A man of the stage is mad. Mad in love as in grief. A man of the stage knows how to act.

But how far will it go? Before the mask breaks and the true, raw horror commences?

He has nothing to live for.

If he doesn't hang or slit himself, then his heart will do it for him.

The point of no return is a one-way ticket. All he has to do is board the train.

---

But I wouldn't be surprised if he lived.

Remember The Emptiness. It kills us all.

Yet it also helps us forget. And we often do not weep for the past if we forget, now do we?

He stands up. He dusts himself off. It's Yve's choice, not his own. A woman is not a toy, she has feelings. And if her feelings desire another, then so be it.

He walks over to his mirror and takes off his mask. He takes a good look at himself.

If this be his destiny then so be it. If Yve returns then so be it. If he lives or dies so be it.

There's no use grieving what you never could have.

---

And my answer is, "He's a phantom. By definition he should already be fuckin' dead."

But no really, yes, he dies heartbroken. And he will reunite with Christine in her grief, always singing from the heavens above, a true angel now. He will be the one to invite her into the light, no matter how long it takes to wait.

And in the meantime, whenever she thinks of him, he'll sing for her. At least if he can't in body, then he may in spirit. Truly her Angel of Music, forevermore.

[dio-the-thot-exterminator]

Ooo uhhh trying to design my quickstrike, what should his hair look like?

[just-broken-thoughts]

The moment I decide a piece of clothing is my favourite, I discover there's a hole in it.

[starswallowingsea]

They need to invent a bra clasp that doesn't get twisted in the dryer