music departments


IM FUKCING DEAD i finished it.

nooks and naps

ExcerptJeongguk had fallen asleep with his head on your lap while you were studying for the final. And his rabbit ears had sprung from the top of his head minutes later. 

Genre: Drabble, fluffy fluff, sweet bunny love

Length: 1.1k

A/N: a small drabble after tell me your secrets (I’m all ears). ;)

Music as Discourse: Semiotic Adventures in Romantic Music. Analyzing Atonal Music: Pitch-class Set Theory and its Context. Explaining Tonality: Schenkerian Theory and Beyond

You stared at the shelves of books opposite you, mindlessly reading the titles and ignoring the dawning exhilaration creeping up on you, rioting in a wave of goosebumps down your back. It felt like an out-of-body experience, as though you were floating above the stacks in the music department library and staring down with some pity at the seniors desperately cramming three months of theory into one cheat sheet, but the warm, heavy weight resting on your thighs tied you unwaveringly to the ground. You’d lost feeling in your legs somewhere between reviewing vocabulary flash cards - he kept mixing up accelerando with con moto - and now the tingling numbness as subsided into the pins-and-needles sensation of a genuine disruption of blood flow. 

You should be concerned. You should probably shove him off and roll around on the itchy old carpet in agony until the feeling came back and you could stand without your knees buckling. At the very least, you should take your hand away from the plushy softness at the top of his head while he was sleeping. That was maybe a bit creepy.

You did none of those things. 

Jeongguk had fallen asleep with his head on your lap while you were studying for the final. And his rabbit ears had sprung from the top of his head minutes later. 

You bit your lip and glanced around the shelves again, but the small, abandoned area of theory you’d found to study in remained quiet and undisturbed, the faintest traces of life only to be found in the quiet, barely audible snores that slipped past Jeongguk’s parted lips. 

He’d been working hard these past few weeks, juggling his vocal lessons with dancing and composition, spending time with Taheyung and Jimin and with you. This little furrow between his eyebrows had formed last week that you wanted to smooth away with your finger, maybe kiss the spot or nuzzle your nose against his neck in comfort. The bags under his eyes told you he’d not been getting enough sleep, although the coffee smell lingering on his close and breath every time you saw him had hinted at that all the same. He needed the rest, even for just a half an hour or so. However long he managed to sleep on this unforgiving, crusty sponge of a carpet that probably hadn’t been refurbished since the eighties. 

But the ears….

In the seven months since you’d met him (four of which you’d been dating), Jeongguk had only ever half-shifted in front of you once. When you’d gone to his apartment that day after he’d missed the meeting at the library and he’d been so shocked to see you there, he’d half-shifted out of reflex. You’d wanted to ask him about it recently, about why he never shifted form when you were together or if he was waiting for you to do it first. You’d danced around the topic a little bit but hadn’t managed to work up the nerve to be upfront about it. His friend Taehyung had no problems popping tail and fur whenever he felt like it–on the couch watching k-dramas, hungover and eating cereal in the kitchen, running through the halls when he was late for class. His roommate Jimin used his ears and nose all the time to get his boyfriend Mint Yoongi (as you had begun to call him, even though his hair was now cotton candy pink) to buy him coffee and snacks from the convenience store.

But not Jeongguk. Even when doors slammed nearby, surprising even you enough that your ears popped instinctively, or when he got extremely excited about the latest BigBang comeback and practically hopped around the room with joy. No ears. No nose. No tail. 

You were starting to suspect he was uncomfortable shifting around you, and you’re not sure how to react to that.

You glanced down at the shifted parts in question, the tips of your fingers lightly stroking up the long, velvety soft curve of his right ear. It twitched under the touch and a hitch interrupted Jeongguk’s snores, his head rolling slightly on your thighs until his face was angled toward you. His eyes were firmly shut, lips parted, still dead to the world. So you dipped your hand inward slightly and brush the pitch black fur in the shell of his ear, something melting in your chest when Jeongguk sighed. 

This was wrong. An invasion of his privacy. If Jeongguk wanted to shift with you, he would in his own time, and you shouldn’t be taking advantage of the fact that he’d unknowingly shifted while taking a nap in your presence. But his ears were so soft. He looked so soft and cute, curled up on his side and sleeping like he hasn’t in days, his hands balled into little fists and those tiny snores, and the fact that he trusted you enough to let his guard down– he couldn’t have pressed more of your buttons if he’d tried. 

Jeongguk was so shy about his rabbit form, even with you. You’d figured he thought he needed to put up a ‘manly’ front with you, that you’d fallen for the muscles and the black t-shirts and the smirk he tossed out when he caught you staring at him for longer than appropriate. And those were nice (read: hot as hell), but… more than that, the awkward, soft-hearted Ironman and G-Dragon fanboy that complained about his best friend’s neediness but still walked ten blocks to pick up his favorite soup when he was sick, that brought you a banana nut muffin to class when he knew you’d woken up late and hadn’t had time to eat. The guy that gave you his sweatshirt on cold days and pretended he wasn’t charmed by how big it looked on you, the guy that gave you bunny kisses on your cheek when he thought you’d fallen asleep on movie nights. 

You liked leather-jacket Jeongguk, but the boy with the sweet smile behind him…. You were maybe close to falling in love with that guy. Closer than you could admit for now. 

So you bent over and pressed a kiss to his temple as lightly as you could to avoid waking him and you sat in between those shelves, gently petting his ears as he slept.  And thirty minutes later, when he started to wake up and his ears disappeared beneath the dark chocolate bedhead, you didn’t mention it. You just laughed quietly when he apologized sheepishly, brushed the hair stuck to his cheeks behind his human ear, and smiled. 

You could wait until he was ready to share that part of himself with you. 

Originally posted by shitjeon

Artist Laura Wheeler Waring (1887-1948)

“Laura Wheeler of this city made several contributions to the exhibition of paintings and sculpture at the Dunbar High School, Washington, DC. Her exhibits showed considerable merit and charm.” – The New York Age, Apr. 19, 1919.

Laura Wheeler Waring was an African-American teacher and artist who became known for her portraits; the subjects she painted include W.E.B. Du Bois and Marian Anderson. Wheeler headed the art and music department at the Cheyney Training School for Teachers (now known as Cheyney University).

quicklime-girl  asked:

Did you ever see that one cartoon that was like, the Phantom, Flash Gordon, Mandrake the magician, and some other guy being super heroes with their sons and daughters? It reeked of rather desperate "shit, we own some superhero-esque characters, let's do a cartoon!" It had a BADASS intro though, props to the music department there.

Defenders of the Earth! It had an opening musical number that was over the top even by the standards of 1980s action cartoons, selling every character as the world’s greatest asskicker, and it has to be seen to be believed. It’s very “Tenacious D.” 

Lothar was promoted from Mandrake the Magician’s sidekick into a hero in his own right. It reminds me of when Steve Englehart put Hawkwoman into the Justice League as a member: long overdue. 

However…he’s both the team’s black strong man, biggest sleeveless vest enthusiast, AND the mechanic/tech genius who keeps up the team’s vehicle…do you see where I’m going with this? Lothar is Mr. T.! Hey, it was the eighties!

Here’s a fun nerd detail I remember: as the show was set in the futuristic year 2015, the Phantom in the series was the 27th Phantom (making him the son of the “modern” Kit Walker - does that mean his son will grow up to be Phantom 2040?), and the Mandrake we saw was the son of the first Mandrake. However….Flash Gordon was the original, true blue, real Flash Gordon, since that comic strip was always supposed to have been set in the future.

Hey, isn’t it weird that Flash Gordon’s son Rick is a redhead? Gee, I wonder who his parents were.  

I remember a lot of female fans thinking that Rick Gordon was the hottest fella on television.

back in college the music department had these great soundproof rooms where you could go to practice your singing as loud and bad as you wanted without anybody being able to hear and sometimes i daydream about starting a business that is nothing but a row of those stalls where people can pay by the 10-minute interval to come scream

First email received from Dance Academy: the Movie! 

‘’ This week we celebrate a major post-production milestone: completing the picture edit. Post-production encompasses every task from wrapping the shoot to screening the premiere, and includes editing together the actual sequence of shots (picture edit), seamlessly weaving cheeky visual transitions (visual effects), and packing a punch in the sound department (music composition). That’s just the start of it!’’  Joanna Werner, Producer

So excited!

music department
  • <p> <b>middle school band kids:</b> yo yo mama haha<p/><b>me:</b> yea can you just exit to hell immediately??? you're all so immature and how dare you? when will you ever learn??<p/><b>also me:</b> baethoven haha<p/></p>

In case anyone is wondering how you end up taking a more advanced CS class out of order and without prerequisites, my spouse’s experience proves that all it takes is an inattentive advisor who assumes the student knows what courses they need to take better than the advisor does. (Spouse did not pass this course without prereqs, unlike Tango, and had to retake it.)

Given that Tango hasn’t declared yet, he likely has a first year advisor who knows nothing about the CS curriculum. My own first year advisor was actually the main pianist in the music department and had hair that looked like a forest of exclamation points, making him appear slightly surprised and befuddled at all times. (Accurate.) In my mind, this is who I have assigned to Tango.