this makes me so sad nobody gives dark yellow a chance
i love you dark yellow
i still stand by this
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@theboringfangirl
this makes me so sad nobody gives dark yellow a chance
i love you dark yellow
i still stand by this

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Would love to see a version of The Phantom of The Opera where Erik is a bass and Christine actually sings opera
"Kill them with kindness" WRONG. drop the opera house chandelier on them.
Was kiwi named after kiwi or was kiwi named after kiwi?
the fruit and the bird are both named after the location where they were found.
Wait that's actually so much better than what I thought. Thanks for the answer
Let’s talk about Christine’s singing technique
Opera in the 19th century was different from today, mostly because the singing technique was different. If you wanted to be an opera singer back then, you would be trained in the bel canto technique, which means no placement or in-the-mask singing. This technique is on the opposite side of the spectrum from the technique used by opera singers nowadays. You have to develop not only your head voice but also your chest voice - the combination of the two is crucial, not just for your low notes but throughout your whole range.
In Gaston Leroux’s novel, Christine told Raoul on the rooftop what exactly had changed in her voice:
I’m not very strong physically and that to begin with my voice had very little character. My low notes were naturally under-developed, the high notes were frankly quite harsh and my middle register cloudy. It was these deficiencies that papa had striven to correct and he had succeeded up to a point. But it was the Voice which finally overcame them. Gradually, I was able to increase the volume of my whole range to an extent I could never have hoped to achieve given that it was never strong to start with. I learned to deepen my breathing but crucially the Voice taught me the secret of developing the chest notes of the soprano voice.
It means that Christine had a problem with an undeveloped chest voice. Because of that, she had weak low notes (which are naturally more chesty), a cloudy middle register (you must have a well-developed chest voice to sing in your middle with ease), and harsh high notes (it’s hard to sing high without having a core in your voice). Once Christine finally developed her chest voice, her voice became more mature and more colourful, which helped her make the transition to singing Marguerite - a part that requires a more dramatic sound than Siebel (which at that time was a role for a soprano who still hadn’t fully developed her voice).
(By the way this quote shows that Leroux knew something about singing technique. Wow!)
Also, as we all know, the character of Christine was based on a real opera singer, Christine Nilsson (1843 - 1921). Unfortunately, there is no recording of Nilsson’s voice, but we can be sure that she sang with a bel canto technique. It was the one and only proper technique in the 19th century, and you couldn’t be an opera star without learning it.
So yeah, Christine’s voice wasn’t a miracle - it was a well-developed chest voice and a proper bel canto technique. It doesn’t mean her singing wasn’t splendid, because undoubtedly it was! Otherwise, she wouldn’t have knocked the Paris audience’s socks off! I just wanted to say that proper technique is the most important thing, and if you learn it, you can be a brilliant opera singer.

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I love being bisexual so much
Childhood crushes (Or Well played, Puberty Fairy, well played)
Tonight, talking with a friend, I become nostalgic, and I remembered that, when I was like 10 or 11, I was totally in love with this cute little boy:
Adorable, isn’t he?
His name is Dino and he is Croatian. Like many other little girls, he got me with this song.
It was ten years ago, okay? Do not judge me, I was innocent and impressionable back then.
The thing is, tonight I thought about that time, I remembered him and I did a little research. I found he is my age, so I searched him in Google Images to know how he looks like nowadays. And I found this:
I don’t know about you, but he is totally my type.
Well played, Puberty Fairy, damn well played.
To update you guys, Dino is a metal legend now. He both looks and sounds amazing. This is what he looks like right now:
And go listen to his music, it's better than everything you've heard before in metal.
seeing straight men be disgusted by booktok smut recommenders has actually radicalized me to the side of booktok smut recommenders. girls your taste may be atrocious but i will never disparage you for exposing mainstream discourse to the concept of soaking through your underwear. spent my whole life listening to men talk about penises it’s about time they get jumpscared by women talking about pussy in crude detail on social media. go forth and goon my warriors
I work at a bookstore and hearing one of my male coworkers call smutty romantasy "the downfall of society" because it's "literally just porn" radicalized me
Men have an entire industry. Entire industries dedicated to their sexualities. Let women have fantasy sex. there's not even a camera crew involved.
Left this in the notes
theo van gogh was the one who suggested that his older brother vincent start seriously painting. as soon as theo was gainfully employed he gave vincent around 15% of his own yearly salary for art supplies, lodging, and food. about 2/3rds of vincent's surviving letters were to theo (including vincent's earliest and last letters), all of which were found stored in theo's desk. theo's child, vincent willem, was born on january 31st, 1890, and vincent was so delighted by his nephew that he painted almond blossoms for him. vincent shot himself half a year later on july 29th, 1890. theo's distress at his brother's death worsened his syphilis symptoms and he died half a year after his brother on january 25th, 1891 (four days before vincent willem's first birthday). theo was reburied next to vincent in auvers-sur-oise at the request of theo's wife johanna.
Almond Blossoms, 1890, Vincent van Gogh
And that love lived on Theo's wife, Johanna, who was the one who pushed for the preservation of Vincent's paintings. Johanna who made sure that her husband's beloved brother would not be forgotten. Johanna who fought tooth and nail so that Theo and Vincent would never be forgotten. Johanna who carried the family legacy, who made sure that the works of Vincent would be kept in her possession. And then Vincent Willem, named for a uncle so loved, carried this legacy and founded the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam.
The van Gogh family history is deeply interwoven with love. It was the love of a brother that gave a young man the courage to paint and the resources to do so. It was the love of a woman for her husband and her husband's beloved brother that made that story known. And it was the love of a nephew, who was so deeply loved even if for such a short time, that made it possible for the world to know Vincent van Gogh.
I came
I saw
I farted
I left

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People underestimate how much it fucks you up to be subtly excluded as a kid. I would try to talk to my classmates and be met with disinterest or annoyance. The one friend I had, who I clung to and nodded along to his every word, had other friends he liked just as much or more. And his other friends didn’t care for me at all.
I look back at pictures from the time and see how separated I was from them. I remember knowing I was different. I remember posing questions about the world to the girls playing next to me and realizing that they had never asked the same ones to themselves. That the ways we thought couldn’t be more different.
I kept myself amused with my own fanatical stories and musings in my head. I would wander the playground on a circular path, imagining a friend and being sorely disappointed when it didn’t feel as real as I’d hoped.
There was a bubble separating me from everyone else, thin, and nearly invisible, but with a pearly sheen you could catch under the right conditions. I knew it was there, they knew it was there, and it changed me
Thank you for sharing.
When I was a kid, I used to walk in lines or circles (I think this was a form of stimming) and just talk to myself. Whenever I saw a mirror, I pretended the reflection to be my very best friend, one who understood me, accepted me and really really liked me. I had very long chats with this “other me”.
At the time, I didn't have a best friend. (I'm not sure if I have one now, as much as I love all my friends.) Now that I think of it, I barely had any friends at all – a playmate or two at most. I had to fill that role for myself.
“There was a bubble separating me from everyone else...” – I call it a glass wall. It's still there. Sometimes perfectly translucent, you could forget it exists. Sometimes though it becomes so solid; it distorts the view and muffles the sounds from the other side.
I'm sorry but this is just too funny not to put here (not my screenshot)
This is epic
Was kiwi named after kiwi or was kiwi named after kiwi?
Well well well if it isn't a lyrical soprano who would sell her soul to become dramatic baritone
Alexi Laiho & Tuomas Holopainen in 2008
I love these guys so fucking much

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You know that thing when you ask someone what their favourite something is and their favourite something is also your favourite something and then they ask you what's your favourite something and you panic and you have to say something else so it doesn't look like you're trying to impress them.
Like imagine this:
A: What's your favourite song?
B: My favorite song is Chop Suey by System Of A Down, what's your favourite song?
A: (Chop Suey is also their favourite but they think that if they say that, person B will think they are lying to impress them, so they say something different)
A: My favorite song is The Devil in I by Slipknot.
So anyway, is it my autism just doing shit to my brain or is someone else experiencing this too?
what? oh sweetheart no, you're not weirding me out at all. you're weirding me in. keep talking, freak