& falling in love (is hard on the knees)
for the Over the Rainbow challenge at gleeverse.
-1 mix
-4 icons
-5 drabbles
-5 picspams
+ 1 banner, 1 manip, 1 bit of utter crack
& 1 fanvid
I don't even know why this challenge entry is so ambitious, but there's definitely an element of 'come to the dark side of shipping these two… we have sexy singing boys!'
• entirely set in canon.
• so Jesse is an evil rock n' roll-loving Broadway nerdy himbo*, and Sebastian is a smug bastard who got outsmarted by a girl employing the oldest entrapment trick in the book.
• the only exception is that Jesse comes to coach Vocal Adrenaline before Regionals.
• seventy-five percent of this was made with Smooth Criminal playing in my head (annie are you okay are you okay annie are you okay are you okay annie)
♥ for haruechan who inspired this crack!ship: your Sebastian brings out the best in my worst Jesse.
♥ for fincalian who thinks Sebastian is a massive dickwad makes for a great villain; this is part of my master plan to convert you to his epic evil side.
♥ huge thanks to _eyesofpride_who suggested Closer and to haruechan for Thanks For the Memories when I was flailing about finishing my mix.
*And apparently, the fine, fine line between himbo and woobie is very easy to cross D: so I apologise for all instances of that.
falling in love (is hard on the knees)
Sebastian Smythe is used to causing friction.
He just doesn't expect Jesse St. James to be better at it.
disclaimer the first gif is from tumblr and so is the second one
WHITE
{c-m-y-k}
CHOICE
Sebastian meets Jesse St. James completely by accident. In fact, when they meet, he doesn't even know who the guy is. (It's not like it ultimately matters.)
He's sixteen, and he's in Ohio for Thanksgiving. He hates it. Lima is closing in around him like moving walls, there's nothing to do, nowhere to go, and no one to talk to. His cousin Theodore tried to take him to a local club with badly put-together fake ID, and before the night is over, Sebastian had wished that the bouncer had caught them first. He tried to slip out the back with the guy he was gyrating with on the dance floor, but Theodore pulled him away, mumbling something about curfews.
Sebastian had kept his uncomplimentary thoughts on the subject to himself with great difficulty.
The next day, he takes the bus to Carmel High. He thinks of it as the only school worth attending in Ohio, not that that's saying much. He'd pick their ruthless striving for excellence over a fluffy, inspirational classroom any day. (Not that he'd trade his current life for anything, really.)
He searches for the way to the auditorium, where he's been told Vocal Adrenaline always rehearses until midnight. He's heard so much about them (more fear than anything else) that he really wants to see it for himself. To his disappointment, he can tell that the auditorium is empty even before he walks in. The spotlights are on, illuminating a teenage couple who are talking in low voices on the stage. Sebastian is too far away, inching towards the wings, to hear.
The girl is really short, the guy's hands wrapped around her waist, and he lets out a laugh that rings through the rafters. "Oh my god," he says, adding what sounds like: "You're even more of a drama queen than I am."
His voice makes Sebastian pause. He's not about to spy on some illicit couple sneaking around, but this stranger, this good-looking, self-possessed stranger with his self-assured voice and the masculine click of his designer boots, he makes Sebastian stop and draw back into the shadows. His very limited sense of shame cringing at this, he actually tries to eavesdrop on the conversation, trying at least to figure out the guy's name.
"I'm Jesse St. James," says the guy, and it sounds like he's speaking right to Sebastian. That's impossible. The curtain obscures his hiding place so well there's no way this Jesse St. James can see him lurking.
"But I know who you are," mumbles the girl, and Jesse St. James laughs again.
"You know Jesse, the star of Vocal Adrenaline. Your competition at Regionals."
Sebastian peers around the curtain, hoping for a better look. Jesse St. James is apparently introducing himself to the girl, hand held out. He can tell by her body language that she's utterly strung on edge, probably confused, probably in love with Jesse. Sneaking around with the 'competition'? Tsk, tsk. Something that Sebastian would do in a heartbeat, but never a smart move.
"Let me introduce you to Jesse, the guy who's nuts about you. The guy who would never hurt you."
Sebastian might be what you call a pathological liar. He's cold-blooded enough to twist the truth without batting an eyelash. He also knows a liar when he hears one. The way Jesse St. James's voice layers on the earnestness on those utterly romantic words, Sebastian knows. The guy's hiding something. Poor her.
Risking it again, Sebastian fists the curtain in one hand, half-obscuring himself as he tries to see what's happening onstage. The girl is in his arms now, more relaxed than her taut shoulder blades indicated minutes ago, and she reaches up on her toes to kiss him. Jesse St. James's large hands are cupping her face, guiding her lips to his, but his eyes are wide open, unromantic and cold, and from where he's standing, it feels like Jesse St. James can see right into Sebastian's soul.
Hiding out in the public library had been the perfect plan at the time. Sebastian thinks, relieved, that he's gotten away with it. And then Jesse St. James walks in through the door. For half a second, he wonders if this is coincidence, he watches Jesse St. James linger at the celebrity biographies, completely unself-conscious that it's summer, he's indoors, and wearing a leather jacket. He picks something off a shelf, apparently absorbed, and wanders by to where Sebastian is sitting, and squarely meets his eye.
"I don't think we've been properly introduced."
The cold, amused threat in that voice makes Sebastian shiver. He holds out a hand with pretended indifference.
"I'm Sebastian Smythe, then. You are…?"
"Jesse St. James, but you already knew that."
Wow. This guy didn't believe in the chase, did he? "Nice to meet you. Do you go to Carmel?"
"And we don't approve of people who break and enter our school. Is there a reason you thought you wanted to be a cat burglar?" Jesse is towering over the table, all black and leather, the smirk on his face would scare biker bad boys.
"Just testing security at your school," replies Sebastian breezily. "And from what I've seen, it's not very good. Is that why your competition at Regionals can walk in whenever she wants?"
"Eavesdrops too."
"Who, me? I wasn't dropping any eaves."
Jesse pulls out a chair, slipping down next Sebastian. "Tell me what you were doing in our auditorium, and maybe we won't mummify you in toilet paper for spying."
The easy casualness with which he says it makes Sebastian wonder if he actually means it. Leaning his elbows on the table, he brings his face closer to Jesse's. "Favour for a favour. I'll tell you, alright, but at wherever you're taking me to tonight."
Jesse stares him, incredulous, and for second, his superior smirk slips. (Sebastian savours the moment, the look in his eyes.) The he reaches forward, plucking Sebastian's phone out of his hands. A series of beeps, which Sebastian takes to mean that Jesse is programming his number into the phone.
He can't get Jesse St. James out of his head. Case in point, he's really glad he's taking the bus, sandwiched against the window by an overweight matron, because he knows he'd crash his car if he was behind the wheel. It's difficult not to be distracted, remembering the sensation of Jesse's bony, slim-fingered hand sliding up the denim of Sebastian's jeans under the table, palming the inside of his groin in a way that makes Sebastian involuntarily buck his hips.
If he's going to hell, he's glad that at least he's not alone.
There is a blank call on his phone from his number to Jesse's. But the call that he expects doesn't come. (He doesn't try and find out why.)
Sebastian goes home to Paris the next week. He swaps his U.S. SIM card for his usual one, Jesse St. James locked away in a metallic box along with his passport and an old rosary from when he was six.
SMILE
TIME
When his dad transfers and he moves to Ohio, Sebastian starts living in the Lima Bean. For one thing, it's not his house. It's better than home, where the thick smell of Gauloises seeps out from his father's study and into Sebastian's bedroom. Within six months, people are buying him Lima Bean gift cards instead of birthday presents, and the staff has nicknames for him.
He likes it here at the Lima Bean.
Naturally, he's not very happy when Jesse St. James walks in.
California has been good to Jesse, he realises, and he knows this because he's not above a little bit of Facebook creeping. He's sure Jesse is a bigger creeper than he is anyway. The pale skin he remembers is now glowing with vitality, Jesse St. James looks healthy and wild in his leather jacket, sauntering up to the counter and placing his order.
Sebastian watches him flirt with the part-time waitress from the far-away table he's sitting at, and tries to swallow the lump of shock that smashed into his face at the sight of Jesse in Lima.
The older boy doesn't even notice, leaning on his elbows on the counter, wicked blue gaze focused on the waitress until she probably feels like there's no one else in the world but the two of them. Even from his vantage point, Sebastian can see Jesse's smile is blinding. He rolls his eyes, pitying the women who fall for flattery like that. Then the coffee arrives, and Jesse walks away with only the barest pleasantries for the waitress. (Sebastian can't wait to see him leave, and it's not because he appreciates the rear view.)
But Jesse pauses at the door, coffee in hand, as though waiting for something. Sebastian watches him shrug to himself, and leave. He exhales painfully.
The part-time waitress calls out for Sebastian. Heart pounding, he makes his way over the counter. Fuck, he knew it. His dad wants something from him. He's paging his son through a café because he can't be bothered to ring Sebastian on the phone.
"Mocha for you," says the waitress, pushing the Styrofoam cup across the counter. He stares.
"Since when do you hand out coffees for free? I didn't order this."
The waitress shakes her head, and purses her lips. "Well, duh. You didn't order it. I would have, like remembered if you did. It came from the hottie who just left. He told me to say 'to the sinner, with compliments of a saint'." She rolls her eyes, and she would have popped her gum if she had been allowed to chew any at work. "Whatever that means."
Sebastian's hands are trembling with the sudden memory as he lifts the coffee to his lips. It burns his tongue, but it's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted.
15 new friend requests.
Jesse St. James has requested to be your friend.
Accept. Ignore. Don't know Jesse?
The worst part is that this is an everyday occurrence in his life. Sebastian is used to being frenemies with people he's hung out to dry. He breaks hearts, revisits them, convinces them it's worth being 'just friends'. It's how he makes friends in the first place.
He's not sure he wants to be Jesse's friend. He's not used to being on the receiving end of what he dishes out so easily, and it's not a nice feeling.
Sebastian pretends it's no big deal to have Jesse St. James tearing up all things stable in his life. He makes it a point to exchange numbers over the privacy of Facebook inboxes, and even before they've officially had a reunion in person, Sebastian's inbox is filled with lazy forwards and emoticon-only texts.
When he gets a single '?' at eleven night, he knows that Jesse probably has been watching too much How I Met Your Mother.
'No,' he replies rather emphatically. He knows he's right when Jesse replies: ':('. It's official. He just got booty-called. Via text.
"I hear there's a new club opening in Lima." Jesse's voice is low, rich, and bored, whispering in Sebastian's ear. "Scandals. Why haven't we been there yet?"
Sebastian rolls his eyes at the ceiling. "We? What is this 'we' business?"
"It's not fun if I go alone." Jesse is positively purring in his ear like a manipulative, wheedling cat. Sebastian shifts on the bed until he can comfortably slide down to lie on his back. Jesse St. James, the bastard, doesn't give up. "You know you want to go. Liquor, dancing, and good-looking men, what else do you want?"
"An evening without being accosted by a man dressed as Marilyn?"
"Is that a no?"
Damn you. Sebastian closes his eyes, but he can still see Jesse's lip curling with that first hint of petulant anger in his voice. "It's a gay club, St. James. Prey on people you actually want to fuck."
"I'm a theatre kid," Jesse chuckles right beside Sebastian's ear. "Gay until proven straight."
"Good night, Jesse," Sebastian tells him firmly. "You can play mind-games with my head tomorrow." Without waiting to hear goodbye, he hangs up. The sudden silence on the line is mutinous. Whatever. He can put up with this tomorrow: right now, he wants just his sleep.
(Before he turns in for the night, he texts Jesse anyway.)
Sebastian Gayrbler 2mrw @7. Not picking u up from Columbus.
Jesse St. Fucker :D
LOL
{anything you can do, I can do better}
WEAK
It's Thad's fault that Sebastian did it in the first place. He has no intention of being 'ironic', he likes his Smartphone and laughing at people who use Macs that resemble a box more than a desktop computer. Sebastian's whole life is centred around being cool. It's just that he'd made the fatal, drunken mistake of betting with Thad that he could beat Santana at U. K. Monopoly.
The odds had been stacked in his favour: what did Santana know of properties like Piccadilly Square, and besides, they had both been knocking back margaritas all night long, and she wasn't the most lucid drunk around. What he had been too plastered to realise was that this was Santana Lopez, and this was a game about ruthlessness and money.
No one but him was surprised when she wiped the board with him. In the morning, when he wakes up with a hangover that would have killed an elephant, he sees a text from Thad, reminding him of the terms of the bet.
"Let's get this over with, and never speak of this again."
Thad smirks serenely, and hands over the third pair of hipster glasses. Sebastian exhales heavily and examines himself in the mirror of the store. "May the clap curse you and all generations that follow you."
He gets tagged on Facebook on a photo he didn't even know that had been taken. A barrage of comments and Likes follow, and he ignores his notifications for twenty-four hours. He resists the temptation to read anything that begins with "Jesse St. James" because it's a far too humiliating to be a mocked by a himbo.
Jesse posts a link on his Wall that begins with "You Know You're a Hipster When…" Sebastian ignores it pointedly, but it's suddenly the most popular thing on his news feed. He knows that deleting the post is just going to make him look as guilty as Hell, so he hides on Twitter for the whole day again.
When Jesse starts posting macros of lovable childhood cartoon characters wearing hipster glasses, it starts a flurry of notifications once again. Only, this time, the whole world and its illegitimate sister is doing the same thing. Sebastian realises that this has obviously gone too far, fuck this, it's time for payback and to take a stand.
The look on Jesse's face makes it obvious that he had definitely not expected to open the door to find Sebastian standing in the hallway. Ironic glasses perched jauntily on the bridge of his nose. Sebastian flashes his most dazzling smile.
"What do you think?"
You can't mock someone who laughs at himself. Jesse - 10 - 10 zillion - Sebastian.
He's startled by how those blue eyes have darkened, how the slouch of Jesse's body against the doorway is lazy and anticipatory at the same time, and he definitely hasn't expected the sudden flare of desire inside him.
"I think it makes you look positively fucking hot."
Sebastian steps forward, mouth crushing Jesse's with force that sends the both of them slamming into the door. This is a competition, and Jesse just won this round. Sebastian doesn't mind, he fully intends to recover the points… later.
RAIN
Jesse St. James is coaching Vocal Adrenaline, and Sebastian is more worried than he'll admit. He knows Dalton has had a history of being knocked out of the competition circuit by Carmel High, and if there's anything he likes less than being called "Broom-head," is losing.
The plan in his head is as flawless as it gets and Jesse St. James never stood a chance.
The only reason his plan will work is because he knows that Jesse thinks of him as a sort of friend. Sebastian isn't sure what he's done to merit that, but neither does he discourage the delusion. Unfortunately, Jesse refuses to let him into the auditorium when Vocal Adrenaline is rehearsing, but he comes to the back stairs, impatient and annoyed to see Sebastian.
"Your cat's gone and done- what? I didn't even know you had a cat."
It's raining outside, pouring down in sheets. Under the umbrella, Sebastian blinks, all innocence. "Don't ask me what I was thinking when I handed him over to my cousin Theodore, I should have known this would happen."
Jesse stares hard at Sebastian, as though he can read minds, but ultimately he seems to decide helping someone else out might not kill him.
Sebastian does lend him the umbrella, but after two hours in the rain searching for a non-existent cat, Jesse is struggling to keep his temper in check.
"Screw this, it won't do your cat any harm to rough it in the real world a little bit," he snarls, and the bitterness in his voice seems to be directed at something bigger than the two of them. Rain is sleeking down his face, drenching the black of his shirt until Sebastian has to swallow to hide the lump in his throat at the sight of the fabric clinging to the sculpted lines of Jesse's torso.
Jesse sneezes, breaking the spell of the moment. Frowning, he brings up a hand to rub his nose, and Sebastian has to avert his eyes from the sight to hide his own smirk of victory.
When the new coach of Vocal Adrenaline comes down with pneumonia, it's only Dakota Stanley at their helm. The competitive show choir circuit of Ohio is buzzing with stories about how the Choreographer from Hell has completely demolished the team's morale, without the balancing effect of an influential coach. Nick and Jeff are heatedly arguing about their chances at Regionals with Trent when a passing Sebastian overhears them.
They don't know that he engineered it, but he assumes they're thanking him anyway.
(Jesse hasn't texted him, called him, or even tried to poke fun of him on Facebook, which means that he knows full well what happened. Sebastian really doesn't care. He has it on good authority that Jesse did the same thing to Rachel Berry - who sucks - two years ago, and this is just karma.)
EPIC
THE TWO SIDES OF ST. SMYTHE*
the flirting,
and everything else buried underneath.
01
fever (adam lambert) listen
Let's get inside your car, just you, me, and the stars,
Kind of ménage à trios, sometimes.
Would you be mine?
Oh baby, light's on, but your mom's not home,
I'm sick of laying down alone, hey
With this fever, fever, yeah.
I want it all, I wanna get you alone
Give you this f-f-fever, fever.
02
magic touch (aerosmith) listen
I need your magic touch, don't you know,
I'm after you and now I can't let go,
Feel the fire burnin' slow.
I got a habit, and I'm back for more.
03
moves like jagger (maroon 5) listen
You wanted control, so we waited.
I put on a show, now I make it.
You say I'm a kid, my ego is big,
I don't give a shit, and it goes like this…
Take me by the tongue, and I'll know you.
Kiss me 'til you're drunk, and I'll show you.
04
closer (nine inch nails) listen
Help me, I broke apart my insides, help me, I’ve got no soul to sell,
Help me, the only thing that works for me, help me, get away from myself.
I want to fuck you like an animal,
I want to feel you from the inside.
05
thanks for the memories (fall out boy) listen
I'm gonna make you bend and break,
(It sent you to me without wings.)
Say a prayer but let the good times roll,
In case God doesn't show.
(Let the good times roll, let the good times roll.)
And I want these words to make things right,
But it's the wrongs that make the words come to life.
06
nobody needs to know (norbert leo butz; the last five years) listen
Put on my armour, I'm off to Ohio.
Back into battle till I don't know when.
Swearing to her that I was,
Never with you,
And praying I'll hold you again.
* Predictably colour-coded; pop/rocky for Sebastian, classic for Jesse.
EMBRACE
A thin, pretty dark girl opens the door when he rings the bell. Folding her arms, she stares him up and down, and asks reluctantly, "Do you go to that gay Hogwarts school too?"
Sebastian glances down to see that he's still wearing his Dalton uniform (he realises with a smidge of shock that he'd intended to change before he came here, but evidently, it had completely slipped his mind.) "Is Jesse home?" he asks instead, as politely as he can. He wishes he knew why this girl looked so familiar.
"He's not up for visitors, so bye-bye, Hufflepuff." She flings the door closed, and it's only the timely insertion of Sebastian's foot that keeps it from slamming in his face. "Go away, Hannah Abbott," she sighs in the face of his resilience. "What if I said please?"
"Andrea?" a male voice calls out from inside the flat. "Is that my mom at the door?"
The name clicks. Sebastian stares at Andrea Cohen, wondering what she's doing in Columbus, Ohio, inside Jesse St. James's apartment. But she's already shouting back, "No, but she did send some underage broom-head. Has she gotten a new pool boy?"
"Hey-" Sebastian isn't a fan of people who mock his hair, but suddenly Jesse St. James is standing behind Andrea Cohen, haggard and unreadable as he processes Sebastian's presence. Guilt is for the weak and the stupid, Sebastian tells himself because, really, he ought to know better. He waits for Jesse to throw him out, satisfied that he's at least tried to be nice.
Andrea pours out espressos for all three them, slamming Jesse's under his nose, as though she can't understand why he would allow Sebastian into the apartment, whereas Sebastian's, which is served lovingly, tastes so sweet he thinks he's going to throw up in his mouth. They stand around the kitchen counter awkwardly before Jesse rolls his eyes and announces he's going back to bed with his coffee and Sondheim and please stay on the other side of the door.
The second Jesse leaves, Sebastian takes one look at Andrea's scornful face and decides he's better off invading the privacy of the older boy anyway.
"You know," drawls the same arrogant voice that has gotten under Sebastian's skin and taken over his senses ever since they first met, "if you wanted tips on being a star, stalking me isn't the way to do it."
Sebastian snorts. He wonders where Jesse gets off being the big fish in the smaller-than-a-pond fishbowl, and there's barely anything intimidating about the whey-faced, sunken-cheeked figure wrapped in a bright blue comforter on the couch.
"I want tips from you, alright. Mostly on how to learn what you did you to end up here, so that I don't." The words slip out involuntarily, and as they do, he feels the tiniest compunction about hitting Jesse St. James hard where it hurts, but he shakes off the feeling before it can get to him. The black anger that flashes through Jesse's eyes makes him wince.
"That's a lot of bravado from someone who doesn't have a noticeable accomplishment to his name. Except, of course, flinging slushies in other people's faces."
How did he-? Wait, stupid question. If only he had a slushie, thinks Sebastian, before realising he's playing right into Jesse's trap. "I can't believe I came to check up on you. The one time I'm vaguely interested in someone else's life, they turn out to a self-absorbed ass."
"Well, karma's a bitch, isn't it?" Jesse is actually laughing. "How's your cat doing? Did you eventually find him again?"
"I'm a dog person," says Sebastian honestly for the first time, and Jesse smirks. He pulls his knees up to his chest, making room for Sebastian to sit. Sebastian draws up a chair closer to the head of the couch so that Jesse gets more legroom that way. "So, I have the Bridesmaids DVD. Wanna watch it?"
Jesse raises his eyebrows slowly. "Andrea lives here now. I've already seen it."
"Well, I haven't, and I'm bored. You don't have a lot of choice in this situation, so I recommend that you just go with it."
By the time Kristen Wiig is sorting out her life on-screen by baking candied carrot-shaped cakes, Jesse is sitting upright on the couch, feet propped up on the chair Sebastian had been using. Sebastian is using the comforter as a pillow, head cushioned against Jesse's stomach. (Jesse lets him stay that way, even though Sebastian fidgets at the 'girly' scenes and talks too much, because Sebastian is like a heating pad that makes his skin tingle.)
"I'm sorry," announces Sebastian loudly and flatly right in the middle of the montage of Kristen and her bitchy friend doing everything possible with a car to attract the hero's attention. "She was a lot funnier in Saturday Night Live, this is just another reason why comedians shouldn't write scripts for themselves." He twists, tilting his head back to be able to look up Jesse, who is pointedly staring up at the ceiling. (Sebastian smirks purposely squirming in Jesse's lap this time, just to see the kind of reaction it'll elicit.)
"How the hell did you sit through this the first time anyway?"
Inspecting the water-stains on the ceiling, Jesse lets out a laugh. "I'd sit through Twilight to get what I want."
"From Andrea Cohen?"
Another laugh, but this time it's short, harsh, and makes Sebastian shiver when Jesse glances down, meeting his eyes for the first time. "From anyone."
"Is that what we're doing right now?" asks Sebastian, very quietly, in that tone that reveals nothing, and he can feel the vibrations of his voice thrum through his throat, Jesse's body. "Are we getting you what you want?"
Jesse purses his lips; sickness has left dark bruises underscoring his eyes, and Sebastian impulsively pushes himself up, leaning in and kissing Jesse beside the bridge of his nose. Jesse's eyes involuntarily close, and Sebastian goes for his lips. "You're," Jesse starts to say, but Sebastian takes uses the opportunity to slide his tongue into Jesse's mouth. He's gratified to see Jesse's self-control lasts only as long as it takes for Sebastian to kiss his down Jesse's neck, licking at the hollow of his throat, before Jesse's hands are cupping his face, dragging Sebastian back up to his lips.
Fucking finally, thinks Sebastian, unwilling to interrupt the moment with anything as stupid as talking. Still kissing Jesse, he rolls them easily, until the older boy is pressed under him, Jesse's leg tangled between Sebastian's. He kicks the comforter off the couch completely with one foot, shifting to grind down on Jesse, making those dark blue eyes widen, even as a throaty moan escapes.
"You're crazy," Jesse complains, fingers twisting in Sebastian's hair as Sebastian's hot breath on his ear makes his back arch, bucking against Sebastian's hips. "You could catch the pneumonia from me."
"Let's call it karma," he murmurs, grinning when he manages to elicit another moan, biting at Jesse's neck, "and let me ravish you anyway."
They can see eye-to-eye on that much at least.
made for the Pure Imagination challenge at gleeverse.
it goes with this post because it'd offend my sense of symmetry if all things St. Smythe didn't end up together.
I'm not thrilled with the final product, so I'm probably going to redo this in the future. Closer is too intense for this vid, or rather for my current vidding skills, and I'm afraid it shows, but I absolutely had to use it. It is my new headcanon, thanks to the seeds haruechan keeps planting._eyesofpride
warning this fanvid has sexually explicit lyrics, cameos of partial nudity, non-explicit sexytimes, and general sacrilege of all things St. Berry, Klaine or Seblaine. Or even Nine Inch Nails, considering what I've done to the song.
vimeo | youtube
and just one more piece for the lulz…
the text has been lifted verbatim from this post by meretricula
click graphic to read it in its full-size
-1 mix
-4 icons
-5 drabbles
-5 picspams
+ 1 banner, 1 manip, 1 bit of utter crack
& 1 fanvid
I don't even know why this challenge entry is so ambitious, but there's definitely an element of 'come to the dark side of shipping these two… we have sexy singing boys!'
• entirely set in canon.
• so Jesse is an evil rock n' roll-loving Broadway nerdy himbo*, and Sebastian is a smug bastard who got outsmarted by a girl employing the oldest entrapment trick in the book.
• the only exception is that Jesse comes to coach Vocal Adrenaline before Regionals.
• seventy-five percent of this was made with Smooth Criminal playing in my head (annie are you okay are you okay annie are you okay are you okay annie)
♥ for haruechan who inspired this crack!ship: your Sebastian brings out the best in my worst Jesse.
♥ for fincalian who thinks Sebastian is a massive dickwad makes for a great villain; this is part of my master plan to convert you to his epic evil side.
♥ huge thanks to _eyesofpride_who suggested Closer and to haruechan for Thanks For the Memories when I was flailing about finishing my mix.
*And apparently, the fine, fine line between himbo and woobie is very easy to cross D: so I apologise for all instances of that.
falling in love (is hard on the knees)
Sebastian Smythe is used to causing friction.
He just doesn't expect Jesse St. James to be better at it.
disclaimer the first gif is from tumblr and so is the second one
WHITE
{c-m-y-k}
CHOICE
Sebastian meets Jesse St. James completely by accident. In fact, when they meet, he doesn't even know who the guy is. (It's not like it ultimately matters.)
He's sixteen, and he's in Ohio for Thanksgiving. He hates it. Lima is closing in around him like moving walls, there's nothing to do, nowhere to go, and no one to talk to. His cousin Theodore tried to take him to a local club with badly put-together fake ID, and before the night is over, Sebastian had wished that the bouncer had caught them first. He tried to slip out the back with the guy he was gyrating with on the dance floor, but Theodore pulled him away, mumbling something about curfews.
Sebastian had kept his uncomplimentary thoughts on the subject to himself with great difficulty.
The next day, he takes the bus to Carmel High. He thinks of it as the only school worth attending in Ohio, not that that's saying much. He'd pick their ruthless striving for excellence over a fluffy, inspirational classroom any day. (Not that he'd trade his current life for anything, really.)
He searches for the way to the auditorium, where he's been told Vocal Adrenaline always rehearses until midnight. He's heard so much about them (more fear than anything else) that he really wants to see it for himself. To his disappointment, he can tell that the auditorium is empty even before he walks in. The spotlights are on, illuminating a teenage couple who are talking in low voices on the stage. Sebastian is too far away, inching towards the wings, to hear.
The girl is really short, the guy's hands wrapped around her waist, and he lets out a laugh that rings through the rafters. "Oh my god," he says, adding what sounds like: "You're even more of a drama queen than I am."
His voice makes Sebastian pause. He's not about to spy on some illicit couple sneaking around, but this stranger, this good-looking, self-possessed stranger with his self-assured voice and the masculine click of his designer boots, he makes Sebastian stop and draw back into the shadows. His very limited sense of shame cringing at this, he actually tries to eavesdrop on the conversation, trying at least to figure out the guy's name.
"I'm Jesse St. James," says the guy, and it sounds like he's speaking right to Sebastian. That's impossible. The curtain obscures his hiding place so well there's no way this Jesse St. James can see him lurking.
"But I know who you are," mumbles the girl, and Jesse St. James laughs again.
"You know Jesse, the star of Vocal Adrenaline. Your competition at Regionals."
Sebastian peers around the curtain, hoping for a better look. Jesse St. James is apparently introducing himself to the girl, hand held out. He can tell by her body language that she's utterly strung on edge, probably confused, probably in love with Jesse. Sneaking around with the 'competition'? Tsk, tsk. Something that Sebastian would do in a heartbeat, but never a smart move.
"Let me introduce you to Jesse, the guy who's nuts about you. The guy who would never hurt you."
Sebastian might be what you call a pathological liar. He's cold-blooded enough to twist the truth without batting an eyelash. He also knows a liar when he hears one. The way Jesse St. James's voice layers on the earnestness on those utterly romantic words, Sebastian knows. The guy's hiding something. Poor her.
Risking it again, Sebastian fists the curtain in one hand, half-obscuring himself as he tries to see what's happening onstage. The girl is in his arms now, more relaxed than her taut shoulder blades indicated minutes ago, and she reaches up on her toes to kiss him. Jesse St. James's large hands are cupping her face, guiding her lips to his, but his eyes are wide open, unromantic and cold, and from where he's standing, it feels like Jesse St. James can see right into Sebastian's soul.
Hiding out in the public library had been the perfect plan at the time. Sebastian thinks, relieved, that he's gotten away with it. And then Jesse St. James walks in through the door. For half a second, he wonders if this is coincidence, he watches Jesse St. James linger at the celebrity biographies, completely unself-conscious that it's summer, he's indoors, and wearing a leather jacket. He picks something off a shelf, apparently absorbed, and wanders by to where Sebastian is sitting, and squarely meets his eye.
"I don't think we've been properly introduced."
The cold, amused threat in that voice makes Sebastian shiver. He holds out a hand with pretended indifference.
"I'm Sebastian Smythe, then. You are…?"
"Jesse St. James, but you already knew that."
Wow. This guy didn't believe in the chase, did he? "Nice to meet you. Do you go to Carmel?"
"And we don't approve of people who break and enter our school. Is there a reason you thought you wanted to be a cat burglar?" Jesse is towering over the table, all black and leather, the smirk on his face would scare biker bad boys.
"Just testing security at your school," replies Sebastian breezily. "And from what I've seen, it's not very good. Is that why your competition at Regionals can walk in whenever she wants?"
"Eavesdrops too."
"Who, me? I wasn't dropping any eaves."
Jesse pulls out a chair, slipping down next Sebastian. "Tell me what you were doing in our auditorium, and maybe we won't mummify you in toilet paper for spying."
The easy casualness with which he says it makes Sebastian wonder if he actually means it. Leaning his elbows on the table, he brings his face closer to Jesse's. "Favour for a favour. I'll tell you, alright, but at wherever you're taking me to tonight."
Jesse stares him, incredulous, and for second, his superior smirk slips. (Sebastian savours the moment, the look in his eyes.) The he reaches forward, plucking Sebastian's phone out of his hands. A series of beeps, which Sebastian takes to mean that Jesse is programming his number into the phone.
He can't get Jesse St. James out of his head. Case in point, he's really glad he's taking the bus, sandwiched against the window by an overweight matron, because he knows he'd crash his car if he was behind the wheel. It's difficult not to be distracted, remembering the sensation of Jesse's bony, slim-fingered hand sliding up the denim of Sebastian's jeans under the table, palming the inside of his groin in a way that makes Sebastian involuntarily buck his hips.
If he's going to hell, he's glad that at least he's not alone.
There is a blank call on his phone from his number to Jesse's. But the call that he expects doesn't come. (He doesn't try and find out why.)
Sebastian goes home to Paris the next week. He swaps his U.S. SIM card for his usual one, Jesse St. James locked away in a metallic box along with his passport and an old rosary from when he was six.
SMILE
TIME
When his dad transfers and he moves to Ohio, Sebastian starts living in the Lima Bean. For one thing, it's not his house. It's better than home, where the thick smell of Gauloises seeps out from his father's study and into Sebastian's bedroom. Within six months, people are buying him Lima Bean gift cards instead of birthday presents, and the staff has nicknames for him.
He likes it here at the Lima Bean.
Naturally, he's not very happy when Jesse St. James walks in.
California has been good to Jesse, he realises, and he knows this because he's not above a little bit of Facebook creeping. He's sure Jesse is a bigger creeper than he is anyway. The pale skin he remembers is now glowing with vitality, Jesse St. James looks healthy and wild in his leather jacket, sauntering up to the counter and placing his order.
Sebastian watches him flirt with the part-time waitress from the far-away table he's sitting at, and tries to swallow the lump of shock that smashed into his face at the sight of Jesse in Lima.
The older boy doesn't even notice, leaning on his elbows on the counter, wicked blue gaze focused on the waitress until she probably feels like there's no one else in the world but the two of them. Even from his vantage point, Sebastian can see Jesse's smile is blinding. He rolls his eyes, pitying the women who fall for flattery like that. Then the coffee arrives, and Jesse walks away with only the barest pleasantries for the waitress. (Sebastian can't wait to see him leave, and it's not because he appreciates the rear view.)
But Jesse pauses at the door, coffee in hand, as though waiting for something. Sebastian watches him shrug to himself, and leave. He exhales painfully.
The part-time waitress calls out for Sebastian. Heart pounding, he makes his way over the counter. Fuck, he knew it. His dad wants something from him. He's paging his son through a café because he can't be bothered to ring Sebastian on the phone.
"Mocha for you," says the waitress, pushing the Styrofoam cup across the counter. He stares.
"Since when do you hand out coffees for free? I didn't order this."
The waitress shakes her head, and purses her lips. "Well, duh. You didn't order it. I would have, like remembered if you did. It came from the hottie who just left. He told me to say 'to the sinner, with compliments of a saint'." She rolls her eyes, and she would have popped her gum if she had been allowed to chew any at work. "Whatever that means."
Sebastian's hands are trembling with the sudden memory as he lifts the coffee to his lips. It burns his tongue, but it's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted.
15 new friend requests.
Jesse St. James has requested to be your friend.
Accept. Ignore. Don't know Jesse?
The worst part is that this is an everyday occurrence in his life. Sebastian is used to being frenemies with people he's hung out to dry. He breaks hearts, revisits them, convinces them it's worth being 'just friends'. It's how he makes friends in the first place.
He's not sure he wants to be Jesse's friend. He's not used to being on the receiving end of what he dishes out so easily, and it's not a nice feeling.
Sebastian pretends it's no big deal to have Jesse St. James tearing up all things stable in his life. He makes it a point to exchange numbers over the privacy of Facebook inboxes, and even before they've officially had a reunion in person, Sebastian's inbox is filled with lazy forwards and emoticon-only texts.
When he gets a single '?' at eleven night, he knows that Jesse probably has been watching too much How I Met Your Mother.
'No,' he replies rather emphatically. He knows he's right when Jesse replies: ':('. It's official. He just got booty-called. Via text.
"I hear there's a new club opening in Lima." Jesse's voice is low, rich, and bored, whispering in Sebastian's ear. "Scandals. Why haven't we been there yet?"
Sebastian rolls his eyes at the ceiling. "We? What is this 'we' business?"
"It's not fun if I go alone." Jesse is positively purring in his ear like a manipulative, wheedling cat. Sebastian shifts on the bed until he can comfortably slide down to lie on his back. Jesse St. James, the bastard, doesn't give up. "You know you want to go. Liquor, dancing, and good-looking men, what else do you want?"
"An evening without being accosted by a man dressed as Marilyn?"
"Is that a no?"
Damn you. Sebastian closes his eyes, but he can still see Jesse's lip curling with that first hint of petulant anger in his voice. "It's a gay club, St. James. Prey on people you actually want to fuck."
"I'm a theatre kid," Jesse chuckles right beside Sebastian's ear. "Gay until proven straight."
"Good night, Jesse," Sebastian tells him firmly. "You can play mind-games with my head tomorrow." Without waiting to hear goodbye, he hangs up. The sudden silence on the line is mutinous. Whatever. He can put up with this tomorrow: right now, he wants just his sleep.
(Before he turns in for the night, he texts Jesse anyway.)
Sebastian Gayrbler 2mrw @7. Not picking u up from Columbus.
Jesse St. Fucker :D
LOL
{anything you can do, I can do better}
WEAK
It's Thad's fault that Sebastian did it in the first place. He has no intention of being 'ironic', he likes his Smartphone and laughing at people who use Macs that resemble a box more than a desktop computer. Sebastian's whole life is centred around being cool. It's just that he'd made the fatal, drunken mistake of betting with Thad that he could beat Santana at U. K. Monopoly.
The odds had been stacked in his favour: what did Santana know of properties like Piccadilly Square, and besides, they had both been knocking back margaritas all night long, and she wasn't the most lucid drunk around. What he had been too plastered to realise was that this was Santana Lopez, and this was a game about ruthlessness and money.
No one but him was surprised when she wiped the board with him. In the morning, when he wakes up with a hangover that would have killed an elephant, he sees a text from Thad, reminding him of the terms of the bet.
"Let's get this over with, and never speak of this again."
Thad smirks serenely, and hands over the third pair of hipster glasses. Sebastian exhales heavily and examines himself in the mirror of the store. "May the clap curse you and all generations that follow you."
He gets tagged on Facebook on a photo he didn't even know that had been taken. A barrage of comments and Likes follow, and he ignores his notifications for twenty-four hours. He resists the temptation to read anything that begins with "Jesse St. James" because it's a far too humiliating to be a mocked by a himbo.
Jesse posts a link on his Wall that begins with "You Know You're a Hipster When…" Sebastian ignores it pointedly, but it's suddenly the most popular thing on his news feed. He knows that deleting the post is just going to make him look as guilty as Hell, so he hides on Twitter for the whole day again.
When Jesse starts posting macros of lovable childhood cartoon characters wearing hipster glasses, it starts a flurry of notifications once again. Only, this time, the whole world and its illegitimate sister is doing the same thing. Sebastian realises that this has obviously gone too far, fuck this, it's time for payback and to take a stand.
The look on Jesse's face makes it obvious that he had definitely not expected to open the door to find Sebastian standing in the hallway. Ironic glasses perched jauntily on the bridge of his nose. Sebastian flashes his most dazzling smile.
"What do you think?"
You can't mock someone who laughs at himself. Jesse - 10 - 10 zillion - Sebastian.
He's startled by how those blue eyes have darkened, how the slouch of Jesse's body against the doorway is lazy and anticipatory at the same time, and he definitely hasn't expected the sudden flare of desire inside him.
"I think it makes you look positively fucking hot."
Sebastian steps forward, mouth crushing Jesse's with force that sends the both of them slamming into the door. This is a competition, and Jesse just won this round. Sebastian doesn't mind, he fully intends to recover the points… later.
RAIN
Jesse St. James is coaching Vocal Adrenaline, and Sebastian is more worried than he'll admit. He knows Dalton has had a history of being knocked out of the competition circuit by Carmel High, and if there's anything he likes less than being called "Broom-head," is losing.
The plan in his head is as flawless as it gets and Jesse St. James never stood a chance.
The only reason his plan will work is because he knows that Jesse thinks of him as a sort of friend. Sebastian isn't sure what he's done to merit that, but neither does he discourage the delusion. Unfortunately, Jesse refuses to let him into the auditorium when Vocal Adrenaline is rehearsing, but he comes to the back stairs, impatient and annoyed to see Sebastian.
"Your cat's gone and done- what? I didn't even know you had a cat."
It's raining outside, pouring down in sheets. Under the umbrella, Sebastian blinks, all innocence. "Don't ask me what I was thinking when I handed him over to my cousin Theodore, I should have known this would happen."
Jesse stares hard at Sebastian, as though he can read minds, but ultimately he seems to decide helping someone else out might not kill him.
Sebastian does lend him the umbrella, but after two hours in the rain searching for a non-existent cat, Jesse is struggling to keep his temper in check.
"Screw this, it won't do your cat any harm to rough it in the real world a little bit," he snarls, and the bitterness in his voice seems to be directed at something bigger than the two of them. Rain is sleeking down his face, drenching the black of his shirt until Sebastian has to swallow to hide the lump in his throat at the sight of the fabric clinging to the sculpted lines of Jesse's torso.
Jesse sneezes, breaking the spell of the moment. Frowning, he brings up a hand to rub his nose, and Sebastian has to avert his eyes from the sight to hide his own smirk of victory.
When the new coach of Vocal Adrenaline comes down with pneumonia, it's only Dakota Stanley at their helm. The competitive show choir circuit of Ohio is buzzing with stories about how the Choreographer from Hell has completely demolished the team's morale, without the balancing effect of an influential coach. Nick and Jeff are heatedly arguing about their chances at Regionals with Trent when a passing Sebastian overhears them.
They don't know that he engineered it, but he assumes they're thanking him anyway.
(Jesse hasn't texted him, called him, or even tried to poke fun of him on Facebook, which means that he knows full well what happened. Sebastian really doesn't care. He has it on good authority that Jesse did the same thing to Rachel Berry - who sucks - two years ago, and this is just karma.)
EPIC
THE TWO SIDES OF ST. SMYTHE*
the flirting,
and everything else buried underneath.
01
fever (adam lambert) listen
Let's get inside your car, just you, me, and the stars,
Kind of ménage à trios, sometimes.
Would you be mine?
Oh baby, light's on, but your mom's not home,
I'm sick of laying down alone, hey
With this fever, fever, yeah.
I want it all, I wanna get you alone
Give you this f-f-fever, fever.
02
magic touch (aerosmith) listen
I need your magic touch, don't you know,
I'm after you and now I can't let go,
Feel the fire burnin' slow.
I got a habit, and I'm back for more.
03
moves like jagger (maroon 5) listen
You wanted control, so we waited.
I put on a show, now I make it.
You say I'm a kid, my ego is big,
I don't give a shit, and it goes like this…
Take me by the tongue, and I'll know you.
Kiss me 'til you're drunk, and I'll show you.
04
closer (nine inch nails) listen
Help me, I broke apart my insides, help me, I’ve got no soul to sell,
Help me, the only thing that works for me, help me, get away from myself.
I want to fuck you like an animal,
I want to feel you from the inside.
05
thanks for the memories (fall out boy) listen
I'm gonna make you bend and break,
(It sent you to me without wings.)
Say a prayer but let the good times roll,
In case God doesn't show.
(Let the good times roll, let the good times roll.)
And I want these words to make things right,
But it's the wrongs that make the words come to life.
06
nobody needs to know (norbert leo butz; the last five years) listen
Put on my armour, I'm off to Ohio.
Back into battle till I don't know when.
Swearing to her that I was,
Never with you,
And praying I'll hold you again.
* Predictably colour-coded; pop/rocky for Sebastian, classic for Jesse.
EMBRACE
A thin, pretty dark girl opens the door when he rings the bell. Folding her arms, she stares him up and down, and asks reluctantly, "Do you go to that gay Hogwarts school too?"
Sebastian glances down to see that he's still wearing his Dalton uniform (he realises with a smidge of shock that he'd intended to change before he came here, but evidently, it had completely slipped his mind.) "Is Jesse home?" he asks instead, as politely as he can. He wishes he knew why this girl looked so familiar.
"He's not up for visitors, so bye-bye, Hufflepuff." She flings the door closed, and it's only the timely insertion of Sebastian's foot that keeps it from slamming in his face. "Go away, Hannah Abbott," she sighs in the face of his resilience. "What if I said please?"
"Andrea?" a male voice calls out from inside the flat. "Is that my mom at the door?"
The name clicks. Sebastian stares at Andrea Cohen, wondering what she's doing in Columbus, Ohio, inside Jesse St. James's apartment. But she's already shouting back, "No, but she did send some underage broom-head. Has she gotten a new pool boy?"
"Hey-" Sebastian isn't a fan of people who mock his hair, but suddenly Jesse St. James is standing behind Andrea Cohen, haggard and unreadable as he processes Sebastian's presence. Guilt is for the weak and the stupid, Sebastian tells himself because, really, he ought to know better. He waits for Jesse to throw him out, satisfied that he's at least tried to be nice.
Andrea pours out espressos for all three them, slamming Jesse's under his nose, as though she can't understand why he would allow Sebastian into the apartment, whereas Sebastian's, which is served lovingly, tastes so sweet he thinks he's going to throw up in his mouth. They stand around the kitchen counter awkwardly before Jesse rolls his eyes and announces he's going back to bed with his coffee and Sondheim and please stay on the other side of the door.
The second Jesse leaves, Sebastian takes one look at Andrea's scornful face and decides he's better off invading the privacy of the older boy anyway.
"You know," drawls the same arrogant voice that has gotten under Sebastian's skin and taken over his senses ever since they first met, "if you wanted tips on being a star, stalking me isn't the way to do it."
Sebastian snorts. He wonders where Jesse gets off being the big fish in the smaller-than-a-pond fishbowl, and there's barely anything intimidating about the whey-faced, sunken-cheeked figure wrapped in a bright blue comforter on the couch.
"I want tips from you, alright. Mostly on how to learn what you did you to end up here, so that I don't." The words slip out involuntarily, and as they do, he feels the tiniest compunction about hitting Jesse St. James hard where it hurts, but he shakes off the feeling before it can get to him. The black anger that flashes through Jesse's eyes makes him wince.
"That's a lot of bravado from someone who doesn't have a noticeable accomplishment to his name. Except, of course, flinging slushies in other people's faces."
How did he-? Wait, stupid question. If only he had a slushie, thinks Sebastian, before realising he's playing right into Jesse's trap. "I can't believe I came to check up on you. The one time I'm vaguely interested in someone else's life, they turn out to a self-absorbed ass."
"Well, karma's a bitch, isn't it?" Jesse is actually laughing. "How's your cat doing? Did you eventually find him again?"
"I'm a dog person," says Sebastian honestly for the first time, and Jesse smirks. He pulls his knees up to his chest, making room for Sebastian to sit. Sebastian draws up a chair closer to the head of the couch so that Jesse gets more legroom that way. "So, I have the Bridesmaids DVD. Wanna watch it?"
Jesse raises his eyebrows slowly. "Andrea lives here now. I've already seen it."
"Well, I haven't, and I'm bored. You don't have a lot of choice in this situation, so I recommend that you just go with it."
By the time Kristen Wiig is sorting out her life on-screen by baking candied carrot-shaped cakes, Jesse is sitting upright on the couch, feet propped up on the chair Sebastian had been using. Sebastian is using the comforter as a pillow, head cushioned against Jesse's stomach. (Jesse lets him stay that way, even though Sebastian fidgets at the 'girly' scenes and talks too much, because Sebastian is like a heating pad that makes his skin tingle.)
"I'm sorry," announces Sebastian loudly and flatly right in the middle of the montage of Kristen and her bitchy friend doing everything possible with a car to attract the hero's attention. "She was a lot funnier in Saturday Night Live, this is just another reason why comedians shouldn't write scripts for themselves." He twists, tilting his head back to be able to look up Jesse, who is pointedly staring up at the ceiling. (Sebastian smirks purposely squirming in Jesse's lap this time, just to see the kind of reaction it'll elicit.)
"How the hell did you sit through this the first time anyway?"
Inspecting the water-stains on the ceiling, Jesse lets out a laugh. "I'd sit through Twilight to get what I want."
"From Andrea Cohen?"
Another laugh, but this time it's short, harsh, and makes Sebastian shiver when Jesse glances down, meeting his eyes for the first time. "From anyone."
"Is that what we're doing right now?" asks Sebastian, very quietly, in that tone that reveals nothing, and he can feel the vibrations of his voice thrum through his throat, Jesse's body. "Are we getting you what you want?"
Jesse purses his lips; sickness has left dark bruises underscoring his eyes, and Sebastian impulsively pushes himself up, leaning in and kissing Jesse beside the bridge of his nose. Jesse's eyes involuntarily close, and Sebastian goes for his lips. "You're," Jesse starts to say, but Sebastian takes uses the opportunity to slide his tongue into Jesse's mouth. He's gratified to see Jesse's self-control lasts only as long as it takes for Sebastian to kiss his down Jesse's neck, licking at the hollow of his throat, before Jesse's hands are cupping his face, dragging Sebastian back up to his lips.
Fucking finally, thinks Sebastian, unwilling to interrupt the moment with anything as stupid as talking. Still kissing Jesse, he rolls them easily, until the older boy is pressed under him, Jesse's leg tangled between Sebastian's. He kicks the comforter off the couch completely with one foot, shifting to grind down on Jesse, making those dark blue eyes widen, even as a throaty moan escapes.
"You're crazy," Jesse complains, fingers twisting in Sebastian's hair as Sebastian's hot breath on his ear makes his back arch, bucking against Sebastian's hips. "You could catch the pneumonia from me."
"Let's call it karma," he murmurs, grinning when he manages to elicit another moan, biting at Jesse's neck, "and let me ravish you anyway."
They can see eye-to-eye on that much at least.
made for the Pure Imagination challenge at gleeverse.
it goes with this post because it'd offend my sense of symmetry if all things St. Smythe didn't end up together.
I'm not thrilled with the final product, so I'm probably going to redo this in the future. Closer is too intense for this vid, or rather for my current vidding skills, and I'm afraid it shows, but I absolutely had to use it. It is my new headcanon, thanks to the seeds haruechan keeps planting._eyesofpride
warning this fanvid has sexually explicit lyrics, cameos of partial nudity, non-explicit sexytimes, and general sacrilege of all things St. Berry, Klaine or Seblaine. Or even Nine Inch Nails, considering what I've done to the song.
vimeo | youtube
and just one more piece for the lulz…
the text has been lifted verbatim from this post by meretricula
click graphic to read it in its full-size