#but i'll certainly grab a curl statue before july ends!!

[loopikal]

curly ears, curly fur, and last but not least, curly whiskers !!

（Φ ω Φ）

[sunshineoptimismandangels]

If I Fall For You, I'll Never Recover

Pairing: Klaine Status: Complete Author: Sunshineoptimismandangels Word count: 2,717 Summary: Kurt has the best friend in the world. Blaine is smart and talented and everyone loves him - including Kurt. Now if he could just work up the courage to say something about it. Notes: Another little one-shot that was quickly written for a Tumblr prompt. This was meant to be shorter but it got away from me. :) I hope you enjoy it!  

FF.net | AO3 There he was, the cutest boy in all of NYADA – Blaine Anderson. He was heading towards Kurt with a spring in his step, wearing a ridiculously bright yellow cardigan, and looking like a walking ray of sunshine. He caught sight of Kurt and sent him a dazzling smile, a smile that was just for him. Kurt's heart somersaulted in his chest. Someone should find a way to bottle Blaine's smiles to cure cancer or spread world peace.

Kurt sat up straighter eager for Blaine to join him, but Blaine's gaze was averted as two sophomores ran up to him stopping Blaine in his tracks. They practically drooled over him as they chattered animatedly. Kurt wouldn't have been surprised if they whipped autograph books from their bags and asked him to sign.

Kurt's mood soured. Blaine was incredibly popular. Winning the Harold Prince Award for Excellence back in his freshman year, a feat previously accomplished by only two other NAYADA students in the history of the school. He then went on to land a leading role in the school's big end of the year musical while only a sophomore. Now Blaine was a junior and everyone at NYADA knew he was going to be a big star someday – he had students, male and female, fawning after him at all times.

If Blaine wasn't so sweet, humble, and truly, honestly grateful for all opportunities he was given Kurt might resent him a little bit. As it was, Blaine was one of the most sincere and generous people Kurt had ever met. And beautiful. And smart. And funny. And… Kurt was in deep. He'd been in love with his best friend for nearly two years and it was the worst.

Blaine finally peeled himself away from his admirers and hurried over to join Kurt, sitting down across from him and folding his arms on the table, giving Kurt another one of those heart-melting smiles. It was a beautiful and sunny spring day and Kurt had secured a table in the quad, giving anyone who might have thought about sitting down with him a withering glance to keep them moving. He'd saved this space for Blaine. Blaine, Kurt's own personal sunshine.

"Sorry, I'm late," Blaine said turning to the bookbag he'd placed on the bench next to him. "Dr. Norris wanted to talk to me about my song choice for the Spring Showcase."

"Mmm." Kurt hummed and nodded, "Did he want to give you recommendations or get some from you? He probably wanted your advice on the lesson plan for his next class." Kurt meant for his words to come out teasing, but it sounded bitter to his ears. He wasn't actually jealous of Blaine, but seeing him adored by every boy on campus sometimes left Kurt feeling raw.

Blaine looked up from his bag, his brow furrowed slightly. "No, he just thought my choice of doing something Top 40 was risky."

"Right." Kurt looked down at the coffee cup in front of him. Actually, there were two coffee cups – one for him and one for Blaine.

"Is everything-" Blaine started just as Kurt slid a cup towards him.

"I got you coffee," Kurt said at the same time.

Blaine's face softened and he looked from the cup to Kurt's face. "I was going to get you some, but I was already late."

Kurt laughed, "I win this round."

Blaine smiled and picked up the cup taking a sip and sighing with satisfaction. "You went to Pour."

"Only the best."

"Where does that put us now?" Blaine asked setting his cup down. "I think I'm still in the lead."

"You most certainly are not," Kurt said with relish. He and Blaine had a running game of who could buy coffee for the other person more often. It started early in their friendship when Blaine showed up at Kurt's dorm with a non-fat mocha and a bag of ladyfingers after Kurt had a horribly grueling day. Kurt had been so surprised that Blaine remembered his coffee order that he'd fallen a little bit more in love with him on the spot. Now it was a competition that had lasted years.

"I'm in the lead." Kurt continued. "I brought coffee after your midterm with Cassandra July and I brought coffee when we met up after my combat class to go see Rachel in her new off-Broadway play."

"Uh no." Blaine said tilting his head, "We both brought each other coffee and had too much of it before Rachel's play. That was a draw."

Kurt's chest warmed at Blaine's teasing tone. "Okay… but when you were sick last month I brought you soup."

"That isn't part of the game!" Blaine laughed.

"What? You didn't like my homemade chicken noodle soup?"

"Homemade? By who?"

"By the woman at the little corner sandwich shop of course. She said it was her grandmother's recipe."

Blaine laughed again and Kurt couldn't help the wide smile on his face as he watched him. Blaine was all crinkled eyes and bright smile and ruddy cheeks. He made Kurt's heart ache.

"Fine. We will count the soup. Just this once." Blaine conceded reaching out to squeeze Kurt's hand. "You're in the lead, but barely."

Kurt flipped his hand over to hold Blaine's and took a sip of his drink to try and hid the slight blush he knew was spreading across his cheeks. Blaine was always very tactile. Holding hands, linking arms, leaning his head on Kurt's shoulder as they watched a movie or coming up behind him to surprise him with a hug at any time of day. Kurt love and hated it. He was addicted to these sweet little touches, but at the same time, they often left him feeling a little lost and wanting more.

Kurt wanted to turn around in a hug and kiss Blaine silly. Or take his hand and press Blaine's knuckles to his lips. He wanted to tell Blaine how he felt and hear that Blaine felt the same way. He'd almost said something countless times, but the timing never seemed right. First Kurt had a boyfriend and then Blaine did. Then even when they were both single it felt like every time Kurt was about to get up the courage Blaine would say something about what a great friend Kurt was and Kurt would clamp his mouth closed, fearful of ruining what they had.

So Kurt sat in silence. Drinking his mocha and holding his best friend's hand as Blaine started talking about his song selection for the Spring Showcase. Kurt had decided his song weeks ago; he was singing The Greatest Star. Kurt had been practicing almost nonstop, Blaine listening to him on several occasions to help give critiques. Blaine wasn't much help though; he always just stood and cheered for Kurt gushing about how perfect he was. Blaine usually had his song selection made early as well. This time he was struggling. Kurt wondered if the pressure of being the school's golden boy was getting to him.

"I honestly can't choose between And This Is My Beloved and Love Somebody."

"You're still considering a pop song after talking to Dr. Norris?"

Kurt loved Blaine's voice when he sang Adam Levine, but honestly, he had a habit of doing pop songs. It wasn't a necessarily a bad thing, especially in a school that heard way too much of, For Good, Seasons of Love, and other Broadway staples. Still, the idea of Blaine singing the lyrics to And This Is My Beloved made something deep and warm stir in Kurt's chest.

Blaine sighed, running a hand through his dark silky curls… god, Kurt wanted to run his hand through them himself. "I don't know. I mean it's kind of my thing. Doing pop songs when everyone else is doing Broadway. I feel like I have to keep it up."

Kurt shook his head quickly. "No, Blaine. Your thing is picking songs that mean something to you and then singing with your whole heart. That's why you're so good. That's why everyone loves you. Don't pick something because you feel like you have to. What do you want to sing?"

"And This Is My Beloved," Blaine answered immediately, still holding Kurt's hand and looking him in the eyes with a soft, earnest expression that made Kurt's throat feel dry.

"Um… then," Kurt cleared his throat and looked down at their hands. "You should sing that one."

They were silent for a moment before Blaine spoke, his voice full of emotion, "Thank you, Kurt."

Kurt looked back up at him with a smile. "Anything for my best friend."

Blaine nodded and chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. "Let's talk about anything besides school," Blaine said pulling his hand back and taking a sip of his coffee.

Kurt wanted to chase after him, grab his hand again, but he didn't let himself. "Okay." Kurt thought for a minute. "Oh! Oh my god. You won't believe who asked me out!"

Blaine placed his coffee cup back on the table his expression looking funny for a moment before he smiled, "A date? You have a date?"

"No." Kurt laughed, "I do not. I said guess who asked me. I said no."

"Oh." Blaine's smile grew. "Um… that older guy who works at the deli counter?"

"What?" Kurt looked at Blaine speechless before he burst out laughing. "Why in the world would that be your first guess?"

"He flirts with you."

"He is at least fifty!"

"I said older guy."

"Oh my god. No. It was that cute little freshman girl that I was paired with in a mentoring project earlier this year. She walked right up to me this morning and asked me out."

"Really? I mean kudos to her. A freshman having the guts to walk up to one of the most admired seniors in all of NAYDA and ask him out? I'm impressed. Her gaydar is completely broken, but I'm impressed."

Kurt smiled and lifted an eyebrow, "Most admired seniors?"

Blaine waved him off as if Kurt's renown was undebatable. "At least you're being asked out. No one has asked me on a date since… I don't know? Last year before I dated Carlos?"

Ugh, Carlos. He was a perfectly nice and stupidly handsome exchange student Blaine had gone out with for a month last year. Kurt pretty much hated him. He didn't even like to think about that long, lonely November. Still, Kurt was shocked Blaine wasn't getting offers left and right. "Really? No one has asked you out since then?"

Blaine shrugged, propping his face up against his hand. "I guess in a sea of eligible students I'm not cute enough to get any attention. Unlike you, who has freshman girls and deli counter workers falling all over themselves for you."

Kurt laughed wondering why someone like Blaine wasn't knee deep in suitors, but privately a little pleased about it. "Aw Blaine, you're adorable. I'd date you."

The words were out of Kurt's mouth before he had a chance to consider them. As they left his lips Kurt felt as if his soul was leaving his body. As if he was standing next to himself and watching him say something that could shatter the perfect little bubble he and Blaine resided in. Kurt could feel the blood drain from his face and his hands suddenly felt clammy. "I… mean…" Kurt sputtered out hoping Blaine would take what he said in jest.

Blaine looked at him seriously, not skipping a beat. "Then date me."

"Wait…" Kurt blinked a few times, "What?"

Blaine took a deep breath. "You should. Date me. I know you're out of my league. I know. You're Kurt Hummel. Kurt Hummel who everyone at school looks up to. Who everyone wants to be like. I know you could have your pick of any student here… and some teachers for that matter." Blane ran a hand down his face, "But have you ever thought about… us? I mean we fit together so well. No one knows me the way you do and who knows you as well as me?

"I know when you're in an actual bad mood verse when you just need to eat something. I know that you pretend nothing bothers you but your lips twitch a little when you're holding your emotions in. I know that you're endlessly kind well after I would have given up on people. I know that you laugh at stupid reruns of "Millionaire Matchmaker" and that your father is your whole world. I know that when you were eight you asked for a pair of sensible pumps not only because fashion has no gender, but because they reminded you of your mom…" Blaine let out a deep sigh as if these words had been weighing on him. "Kurt, you're my best friend and I… I care about you so much. Haven't you ever thought about us as… more?"

Kurt stared at Blaine, his mouth slightly agape and a flurry of emotions washing over him. "I…" He started and stopped, not knowing what to say. Had Kurt ever thought of them as more? Only every single day for the past two years!

"Oh god." Blaine breathed in sharply when Kurt didn't respond. He stood from the table snatching up his book bag. "Oh my god. You don't and I… I have to leave now."

Blaine turned to leave and Kurt sprang up from the table, finally able to function again and his heart pounding against his chest. "No! Please don't go." He practically leaped around the table to stand face to face next to Blaine. "Please Blaine," Kurt smiled, a laugh bubbling up inside of him. "Yes. Yes. I've thought about it. A lot. I've wanted to be with you so much and for so long… I just convinced myself that you didn't want to be anything other than friends."

"That… that's what I thought you wanted! You're always saying I'm your best friend… like I should remember not to push."

"Oh my god no! Blaine, I'm crazy about you."

Blaine's dark eyebrows shot up and a smile slowly spread across his face. A new smile, a smile Kurt wasn't familiar with and Kurt thought he knew all of Blaine's smiles. This was one different. This one wasn't holding anything back and it was full of something that looked a lot like love.

"Kurt." Blaine didn't say anything else, instead, he just crashed their lips together, dropping his bag on the ground with a dull thud, hands moving to wrap around Kurt's waist.

Kurt's body reacted before his mind had even caught up with what was happening. He looped his arms around Blaine's shoulders and kissed him back. His mind singing, Blaine is kissing me! Blaine is kissing me! Until he wasn't able to think at all and he could only cling to Blaine, lips chasing and mouth opening to deepen this kiss. It was a few minutes before they broke apart, Kurt's whole body warm and trembling against Blaine – he leaned his forehead against Blaine's sighing happily. "How long have you felt this way?"

Blaine pressed his lips briefly against Kurt's again before answered. "Pretty much since we met. Why do you think I brought you coffee that very first time?"

"Jesus, I'm an idiot."

"You were dating someone else."

"No one has ever compared to you, Blaine."

Blaine chuckled in disbelief, his eyes misty, "Then we are both idiots."

Kurt just swooped in to kiss him again. They stood like that for a long time, the sun on their shoulders, arms around each other, and lips locked. A few students walked by and catcalled, but Kurt couldn't have cared less. Kurt brushed his thumb over Blaine's bottom lip as he pulled back. "We should..." Kurt could barely catch his breath, "We should go back to your place and practice your Showcase song."

Blaine nodded, "Yeah. We should go back to my place, but not to practice any songs."

Kurt grinned wildly, that was exactly what he'd been thinking. "Let's go back to your place and make up for lost time."

"Perfect," Blaine beamed, grabbing his bag and then Kurt's hands and tugging him along as Kurt laughed and quickly followed after him.

For the Tumblr post- Tag your OTP

Person A: Aw you are so cute! I'd date you Person B: Then date me Person A: .. what?

[duanecbrooks]

Black Being Beautiful      It's another old-time flick, having been made an entire year before The Grasshopper, specifically in--hold on to your hat--1968.                Its female lead is a woman who has long, long, long since devolved to Trivial Pursuit-question status, namely Diahann Carroll (Its male lead, Jim Brown again, has, as has been pointed out before, a very successful career as an entrepreneur, not to mention considerable visibility as a rather simplistic, indeed, flat-out shrill Black Spokesperson).                Having been made in 1968, its cinematic style and sensibility, not to mention the makeup of most, if not all, of its characters would likely be considered mightily passé, even, considering the fact that these days, political correctness is running rampant, prehistoric.                Yet be that as it may...      The fact is, The Split, which, thanks as usual to my greatly-cherished DVD player I've seen several times, is a quite gripping, very well-paced heist flick, easily carrying you along on its wavelength, easily causing you to accept its reality. And not once, not once, while watching it does your attention flag or you lose interest in its characters.                Let's specify...            Split kicks off with a wide-angle shot of a dirt road. Before long, it hones in on this car conking out, carrying this majorly hunky black dude, who, as we'll come to discover, is said picture's central character, McClain (Brown). He tries for a while to fix the car but eventually opts to riding a bus, which we see stopping in front of this rather ramshackle motel. McClain gets off and goes inside and is (in time) joyously greeted by its proprietor, Gladys (Julie Harris). He first asks about his ex, Ellie--whom we'll soon meet--and is bluntly told: "She moved. I haven't seen her." When asked about his future plans, McClain gives an answer that in sum tells the point of the entire picture: "Just one big job. That's all I want." We then see the aforementioned Ellie (Carroll) on the phone, enveloped in shock, obviously being told that her ex is back. Next we see the former couple in bed, lying warmly up against each other, obviously having Done The Deed. We quickly get the message that their history being together was far from happy (Ellie: "I kept on dreaming. And one morning I woke up and you weren't there. That was one morning too many." McClain: "If I'm not here, what the hell were you just doing [in having sex with me]?" This causes Ellie to angrily slap McClain's face). There's further dialogue between them (Ellie: "I'm weak with you...That's my problem...You want to see me crawl. You want to see me so weak I can't stand any more"; interestingly, given that, as has been mentioned, this was 1968, Ellie in time calls McClain: "You black son of a bitch!"), and then we cut to McClain casing the place the latter intends to hit, namely a football stadium where there's scheduled to be a face-off involving the Rams and the Packers (Gladys: "There's 80 thousand seats in the place." McClain: "And that's a lot of money").                 Let's continue. Following are scenes wherein McClain "tests" the fellows he wants to include in the upcoming heist, namely Clinger, Kifka, Marty, and Negil (Ernest Borgnine, Jack Klugman, Warren Oates, and Donald Sutherland, respectively) by putting them through various paces--dropping in on Clinger and initiating a fight, initiating an open-road car chase with Kifka, et al. When the team McClain wants and Gladys are gathered together, we discover that there's  certainly, definitely no love lost between McClain and the guys (Negil: "[McClain is] a big black idiot." Marty: "If there's one thing I don't have time for, it's a smart-ass nigger!"). Yet when our hero at last finally shows up they all fall into line and it's agreed that the money will be stashed at Ellie's place (Gladys: "Ellie's clean. And the cops have nothing on McClain"). Next up is a rather engaging montage wherein McClain and Ellie are walking side-by-side along different places, including the beach with Ellie carrying her heels (McClain: "I'll be with you [after the heist] because that's where I want to be"). At last finally the day of the heist arrives, with McClain and Co. seizing the take while holding several guards and several stadium employees--among them the longtime comedic actor Jackie Joseph--at gunpoint and getting away with the help of McClain and Kifka masquerading as ambulance drivers. Then, as Ellie is lying on top of her bed reading, she, and we, hear a knock upon her door. Upon opening it, in comes McClain with the stolen gains, making it clear his intent to stash them at Ellie's. After her expressing understandable consternation ("You're using me, Mac"), we see McClain seduce Ellie by first taking her up in his arms, then throwing her upon the bed and having his way with her, with her (lovingly?) caressing the money that McClain has thrown upon her bed. Following are McClain and Ellie (obviously) fully under the covers and the phone ringing. Ellie gets it and hands it to her ex, as it's for him. Next we see McClain and Clinger, while playing pool, making plans to get together later with the rest of the gang and divvy up the cash.             Next: We see Ellie's ever-horny landlord Sutro (James Whitmore) sneak into her apartment and, while our girl is combing her hair in front of the mirror, approach her, supposedly about the rent. Yet, as time goes on, it becomes abundantly clear that what Sutro really and truly wants is not rent money but Ellie herself--as evidenced by the frequent close-ups of her bosom area and her upper-thighs area. Before long Sutro gives in to his lust and grabs Ellie. There's a struggle, she manages to knee him and she opens the lower shelf of her drawer, where, we find, there's weaponry stashed. Yet Sutro catches her, throws her upon the bed, and himself gets hold of a machine gun lying inside the drawer. Sutro winds up fatally machine-gunning Ellie, seizing all the money, and throwing a sheet over her dead body.                      Split goes on. When McClain arrives at Ellie's apartment and discovers her corpse, he is of course devastated. Then he opens the drawer and sees that the money, all of it, has been taken, which also knocks him for a loop. The police--having been called by Sutro, who has alerted them to Ellie's murder--show up, McClain manages to get away and, upon re-uniting with the gang, discovers, along with us, that they are in no sense happy campers (Gladys: "You've humiliated me, McClain." Marty: "As you can see, you're on the spot, boy"). We then see that the police detective Walter Brill (Gene Hackman) has been assigned to investigate Ellie's murder (and also see a newspaper headline that fully reflects the fact that this was 1968: "LANDLORD SLAYS NEGRO BEAUTY"), McClain is for a while tortured by the rest of the gang--while his arms are being held down, Clinger smacks his exposed stomach with a soaking-wet rope--McClain manages to escape--with Gladys getting accidentally and fatally shot in the process--and winds up cornering Brill in his home. At first Brill resists McClain's pressure ("the former to the latter: "There isn't a man in the force who will rest if anything happens to one of their own"), yet comes to bend under McClain's prodding (McClain to Brill: "You curl up pretty fast for a cop, don't you?"). Brill comes to throw in with McClain, the latter assuring him that he's the best bet to getting the dough ("There are three others [in the gang], but if you deal with me, you might live to spend that money"), there's a shootout in a deserted area between McClain/Brill and the other gang members, said team winds up killing them all, and the ending of the picture is genuinely unusual. It's comprised of McClain being about to board a plane and stopping upon hearing...Ellie's voice.                So there's The Split, in all a marvelously taut, marvelously absorbing crime flick. Whitmore chillingly embodies the ever-lustful, ever-creepy Sutro. Hackman lends his monumental presence and his monumental acting skill to the role of Brill. The two white chicks of Split--Joyce Jameson as Girl-Girl, a jolie laide whom Oates's character hooks up with early on and Joseph--are, respectively, enticingly sexy and enticingly charming. All the backup gang members come through magnificently in the acting department; there's never, ever a false note concerning any of them. As scenarist, Robert Sabaroff comes up with many meaty, pithy exchanges for McClain and the principals in his life to engage in. And director Gordon Flemyng consistently keeps the action moving, never allowing anything to flag (Said scene between Sutro and Ellie deserves special mention, being an entirely blood-curdling combination of adroit camera placement and adroit editing. Also: Apparently Brown and Flemyng didn't exactly click as work colleagues. In his through-the-roof-selling personal/professional memoir, Borgnine reported that the latter, on the final day of shooting, went up to the former and--according to Borgnine, echoing his own feelings--told him: "If you were the last actor on Earth, I would never work with you again").               And now we come to Brown and Carroll. While their acting in The Split, frankly, leaves much to be desired, their stylish good looks, their forceful sexiness, and their awe-inspiring physiques save the day. Their scenes together are aflame with their physical spice and their physical grace. The fact is, The Split is further proof of a point I (I hope) have made before: that theatrical films were at their best when they were a visual medium, when they wholly put aside aesthetic considerations and simply presented gorgeous, muscular/shapely performers whose physical beauty and unyielding sexiness majorly turned us on (To make another point I hope I've made in the past: While television is up to its neck in intellectual and creative barrenness, it shines as a visual medium. There's no blah about the director or about any of its products' Importance. All that's needed is to get whatever Baywatch Babe on-camera showing skin or get Kerry Washington on-camera, period and the winning score is made).                    It was a 1970s writer who asserted that Carroll and her then-Julia-co-star Fred Williamson (remember him?; I didn't think so) "embody perfection." With regard to The Split, it is Carroll and Brown who are the real and the true embodiment of perfection. And are added proof, assuming any more is needed, of the sanctimonious guilt-bingeing and the complete meaningless of the "issue" of "looksism."