forget your troubles, happy days are here again / you better chase all your troubles away
So here's what you missed on Glee:
After getting slushied in the face for years and dealing with Karofsky's bullying, Kurt's decided to take a few defense lessons from the Black Widow herself - ( "I... just wanted to say thank you, again, for letting me participate in this course, and how much I'm looking forward to future lessons. You kind of blew us all away today.") - while still staying true to his heart with enough interior decorating to drive Puck out of the house - ( "I know it's not like, ideal or whatever, but I'd kind of never lived alone, and the hut was quiet as hell before you moved in.").
He also kind of met Batgirl along the way - ( "Where am I and what have you done with Gotham City?") - and bonded with Santana's new roommate over chasing after their dreams - ( "Don't give up. On your dream."). Small world. Plus, there's this really cute guy from his voice lessons who actually seems to be interested in showtunes - ( "Takes more than a little fanboying to scare me off.") - and Kurt might be a little interested, though thoughts of Blaine have kept him a bit distant for now.
And that's what you missed on... Glee!
Regular patrons of the Hub would have stepped inside that evening to find the establishment decked out in a theme of black and white, with touches of red. A lone hibiscus bloomed on each table, the cloth smooth, black as night, white cloth napkins cutting against the color. Deep crimson carpeting pieced together from various articles of shag clothing were spread across the floor, retrieved from the clothes box after countless days of begging and promises to return the goods as soon as festivities ended. Candles served as the bulk of the dim lighting, and Kurt sneaked a glance off to the side, where apertifs were lined on the bar, where appetizers were being brought in from the Compound, and where the tall blonde bartender stood next to the entrance, handing out assignments for assassins and small, bamboo baskets of balloons for when the game started. Everything was going well, as planned, every detail in place.
Eighteen was only a number. On the island, where voting and drinking both came at age sixteen, milestones had already been missed. Opportunities were already free for the grab. Yet there was something Kurt still found romantic about using a number to signal the coming of age. Empowering, about being able to stand and say that back home, back where it counted, he was an adult. If he ever felt the need to run away from home and spend his savings living in a dingy motel on the outskirts of New York, he could do it. If he felt like being one of less than ten percent of people in Lima who voted blue, he could do it. And in spite of all the cynicism that he had about the government, in spite of how he knew that he was no more of an adult that day (and technically, his birthday wasn't for another couple of days, at that) than the day prior, or the day before that, Kurt still felt that there was something a bit magical about standing in front of a group of classmates and friends, smoothing the lapel of his checkered velvet tuxedo, and raising a glass.
"Classmates, colleagues, new acquaintances, and friends- all of you being the latter, I'm sure. Santana and I would like to welcome you to our joint eighteenth birthday party. Neither of us has been on the island for that long," Kurt began, smiling at everyone in the establishment, turning slightly on his heel so that he could spot every one. "Yet you've all contributed to making this place feel like a home away from home, and both of us are so grateful for that. The fact that we can even have this kind of a party- thank you to everyone who helped out earlier- just speaks to the kind of people that you find on Tabula Rasa. The kind of people that I personally would love to know for years to come. So... here's to you guys, and again, thank you for being here and celebrating this important milestone with Santana and me."
Ducking his head shyly, Kurt swept an arm towards the bar. "There are drinks at the bar, there's karaoke, dinner should start in about an hour, after which we have a great game of assassins planned, so anyone who hasn't signed up should go talk to Ishiah, the tall blond guy over there. And that's it! Faire la fête!"
[ Gathering post for Kurt and Santana's joint mafia-themed birthday party! Pup must be 16+ to attend, no invite required, and this post will be here both for regular mingling and Assassins, rules and players for the latter found here (feel free to sign up). LT/ST more than welcome! ]
After getting slushied in the face for years and dealing with Karofsky's bullying, Kurt's decided to take a few defense lessons from the Black Widow herself - ( "I... just wanted to say thank you, again, for letting me participate in this course, and how much I'm looking forward to future lessons. You kind of blew us all away today.") - while still staying true to his heart with enough interior decorating to drive Puck out of the house - ( "I know it's not like, ideal or whatever, but I'd kind of never lived alone, and the hut was quiet as hell before you moved in.").
He also kind of met Batgirl along the way - ( "Where am I and what have you done with Gotham City?") - and bonded with Santana's new roommate over chasing after their dreams - ( "Don't give up. On your dream."). Small world. Plus, there's this really cute guy from his voice lessons who actually seems to be interested in showtunes - ( "Takes more than a little fanboying to scare me off.") - and Kurt might be a little interested, though thoughts of Blaine have kept him a bit distant for now.
And that's what you missed on... Glee!
Regular patrons of the Hub would have stepped inside that evening to find the establishment decked out in a theme of black and white, with touches of red. A lone hibiscus bloomed on each table, the cloth smooth, black as night, white cloth napkins cutting against the color. Deep crimson carpeting pieced together from various articles of shag clothing were spread across the floor, retrieved from the clothes box after countless days of begging and promises to return the goods as soon as festivities ended. Candles served as the bulk of the dim lighting, and Kurt sneaked a glance off to the side, where apertifs were lined on the bar, where appetizers were being brought in from the Compound, and where the tall blonde bartender stood next to the entrance, handing out assignments for assassins and small, bamboo baskets of balloons for when the game started. Everything was going well, as planned, every detail in place.
Eighteen was only a number. On the island, where voting and drinking both came at age sixteen, milestones had already been missed. Opportunities were already free for the grab. Yet there was something Kurt still found romantic about using a number to signal the coming of age. Empowering, about being able to stand and say that back home, back where it counted, he was an adult. If he ever felt the need to run away from home and spend his savings living in a dingy motel on the outskirts of New York, he could do it. If he felt like being one of less than ten percent of people in Lima who voted blue, he could do it. And in spite of all the cynicism that he had about the government, in spite of how he knew that he was no more of an adult that day (and technically, his birthday wasn't for another couple of days, at that) than the day prior, or the day before that, Kurt still felt that there was something a bit magical about standing in front of a group of classmates and friends, smoothing the lapel of his checkered velvet tuxedo, and raising a glass.
"Classmates, colleagues, new acquaintances, and friends- all of you being the latter, I'm sure. Santana and I would like to welcome you to our joint eighteenth birthday party. Neither of us has been on the island for that long," Kurt began, smiling at everyone in the establishment, turning slightly on his heel so that he could spot every one. "Yet you've all contributed to making this place feel like a home away from home, and both of us are so grateful for that. The fact that we can even have this kind of a party- thank you to everyone who helped out earlier- just speaks to the kind of people that you find on Tabula Rasa. The kind of people that I personally would love to know for years to come. So... here's to you guys, and again, thank you for being here and celebrating this important milestone with Santana and me."
Ducking his head shyly, Kurt swept an arm towards the bar. "There are drinks at the bar, there's karaoke, dinner should start in about an hour, after which we have a great game of assassins planned, so anyone who hasn't signed up should go talk to Ishiah, the tall blond guy over there. And that's it! Faire la fête!"
[ Gathering post for Kurt and Santana's joint mafia-themed birthday party! Pup must be 16+ to attend, no invite required, and this post will be here both for regular mingling and Assassins, rules and players for the latter found here (feel free to sign up). LT/ST more than welcome! ]