Log in

No account? Create an account

The Social Network: the kink meme!

It's Complicated: But sexy!

Mark Zuckerberg
The Sarcastic Kitty oresteia wrote in tsn_kinkmeme
Previous Entry Share Next Entry
[PART NINE] & Some News
Okay, I'm a little new at this so sorry if I mess this up first go. Because it's been 5 months since the last round even though we haven't been busy. I figured I might as well earn my keep and try to get this place alive again...




IMPORTANT: please DO NOT post prompts about any non-public people as part of a prompt. for example: randi zuckerberg is fine as she is a public figure both on the internet and on facebook itself. priscilla chan is NOT as she is not a public figure.

if you're in doubt, please message the mod or leave a comment in the discussion post.

♥ post requests and responses in the comments to this post.
♥ be respectful.
♥ both a pairing/character AND a prompt/kink must be posted.
♥ one pairing/prompt per comment please.
♥ you are encouraged to try and write a prompt for every request you make.
♥ we are slash, femslash, het, three-and-moresomes etc. friendly. (we are even incest friendly what with some of our characters being twins and all...)
♥ no pairing bashing, OK? no need to wank over ships.
♥ long and short fics welcome. multiple responses encouraged!
♥ please try to refrain from saying 'seconded!' as much as possible.
♥ on RPF: Please disclaim that it is RPF, a work of fiction and in no way related to the actual actors/persons/etc. (i wouldn't even try and discourage RPF from this meme ;))


♥ alphabetize pairings/threesomes/moresomes. (e.g. Eduardo/Mark/Sean etc.)
♥ put [RPF] before RPF prompts. (e.g. [RPF] Andrew/Jesse)
♥ for crossover prompts: "[Crossover], The Social Network Character(s)/Other Character(s), [Fandom]" (e.g. [Crossover], Eduardo/Columbus, [Zombieland])
♥ no "!" in pairings, only in descriptions. (e.g. Eduardo/Mark, FacebookCreator!Eduardo, CFO!Mark)
♥ anyone, everyone, no one? Use "Other." (e.g. Sean/Other)
♥ Please do not repost prompts from earlier rounds
♥ put [GEN] before GEN prompts.


♥ please don't embed. link to images/videos.
♥ no locked material. this includes communities, even if membership is open.
♥ fills can be posted anonymously or not.
♥ fills can be anything: fic, art, vid, fanmix, podfic, etc.
♥ all prompts are open to fills at all times, even if they have been filled in the past or are being currently filled by someone else. multiple fills are positively encouraged; if something appeals to you then do not be put off creating a new fill by the existence of a prior one.
NEW: ♥ PLEASE comment with the first of your fill to the PROMPT and then all future updates as a comment to the FIRST PART of the fill. this makes it easier for both the WIP spreadhseet and for archiving stuff on delicious. it also helps people who are trying to catch up on updates and don't have to look through every fill on the prompt (should it have more than one). thank you.

Hi, right now everyone is working on some changes so hold on new things are coming. In an effort to kick this place back into action, we're doing round 9. In a few days, we'll be setting up a fills post that hopefully will work directly for archiving and an overflow post. Also we'll be doing a friending meme at tsn_km_gather so be looking out for that. I know some of the other mods have plans of their own which will be coming soon.

If you have any questions or ideas that I can help you with, feel free to PM me. I'll be around.



have fun!

THERE WILL BE UNMARKED SPOILERS. enter at your own risk! :D


i know you guys are enjoying this meme and i appreciate that but please can you put the SUBJECT HEADER on your prompt. you would REALLY be helping me out if you could do that. it just saves time for me when i'm trying to tag everything in delicious.



AND PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE DO NOT repost prompts from parts three, four, five, six, seven, or eight. the delicious is around for people to find prompts they may not have already seen. We know there's been some issues but we're working on it with pinboard. No duplicates from this round either. THANK YOU.

Eduardo/Mark Cold Souls au

After the depositions Eduardo decides he doesn't want to feel all that hurt anymore, so he has his soul removed. Maybe this is a standard thing for businessmen - more rational less emotional/sensitive etc. Mark notices the difference and is upset by the difference.

This has massive angst potential (and I'm not actually against that) but I'd love if it had a bit of the mellower tone of the movie - more about the realization by Mark and Eduardo of how sensitivity and painful experiences can be important.

But mostly I'd just love to see how the idea could play out, so do what you will!

Re: Eduardo/Mark Cold Souls au

Hm... Considering filling this...
I've never seen the film and I just looked it up.. Would it bother anyone if it didn't follow the whole disappearance/abduction plotline but just had the general concept of soul removal?

Re: Eduardo/Mark Cold Souls au

OP - not at all! I'd definitely prefer if you just took it and made it your own!

The film is totally worth a look, though; it is so lovely!

Fill: A Bird Can Sing With a Broken Wing 1a/?

So this is my first fill on the kinkmeme... So please forgive me for formatting errors and typos and all that jazz. :) Also, all Portuguese was translated via Google Translate or some other website, so it may or may not be accurate.


Eduardo remembers being six and living in a loud, boisterous household full of laughter and chatter. He remembers warm smiles and welcoming arms, the playful squeals of children in the neighborhood sprinting across the road barefoot, relishing the warm, Brazilian earth underfoot.

At seven, he remembers family parties with his mother’s famous feijoada, the odor of spices enveloping him while he ran throughout the house with all his friends. He remembers spying on his father deep in conversation with all his business partners and the neighboring fathers whispering about souls, ruthless, and good for business. He remembers the conversation stopping short there and his father turning around slowly before contorting his face into the scariest image he can muster and roaring at the top of his lungs while chasing all the kids down the hall, filling the house with screams and laughter. He remembers the quiet and comfort after the parties, when everyone had left for the night, Eduardo tucked safely under the covers, his father reading his favorite bedtime story, the one about the sereia, the mermaid that loved his prince endlessly and even sacrificed her own life and happiness to ensure her prince’s own happily ever after. And he remembers being well on his way to slumber and his father whispering, “Querido,” and kissing his forehead. “Everything I do, everything, is for you, okay? Eu sempre o amarei, nenhuma questão o que.”

At eight, he remembers his father coming home one night and his mother bursting into tears and his father standing there, just staring, indifferent, cold. He doesn’t understand why his mother won’t look at his father, why she’s holding Eduardo like she’s lost something irreplaceable, why she’s sobbing into his shoulder. He doesn’t understand.

There are no more smiles.

No more sereias.

No more warmth.

Eduardo never really understands what happened that night, that fateful night, until he’s thirteen and moved to Miami. His father hands him magazines and books in stony silence, expecting him to familiarize himself with America culture as soon as possible and fit in, become successful. He thinks of the sereia who became human to try and fit in and win the heart of the prince and smiles a little. Maybe if he learns to fit in here, if he does it well, he could meet his prince or princess. He sorts through the pile of literature, Time, The New Yorker, The Economist, People Magazine (His father claims that pop culture is important, has to be well-liked, not an outcast. It’s hard to make connections when you’re disliked.), The Great Gatsby, The Catcher in the Rye, and more. He goes through the recent Time Magazines, learning about the state of the governments around the world. He moves onto The New Yorker, fascinated by the satirical drawings inside when he comes across an article entitled “Soul Storage”. He reads the article describing the process, the pros and cons, the outcomes, and oh. That’s what happened. That’s where the smiles, the laughter, the warmth went.

Fill: A Bird Can Sing With a Broken Wing 1b/?

Over the years he faces his father’s cold eyes, empty words, and finally, finally, he can’t take it anymore.

He’s eighteen and he still doesn’t understand.

“Why did you do it?” he demands in his father’s office, so similar yet so different from the one in São Paulo.

His father stares back blankly. “Do what?”

“Don’t try to hide it, pai,” he glares at him, sick and tired of him never owning up to it, never talking about it. “I’m not stupid, I know about the soul removal.”

He continues to stare, eyebrows raised now.

“Why… Why would you do this? Why would you put us through this?”

“Stop yelling, Eduardo,” Eduardo hadn’t realized until then that he was even yelling. His heavy breathing probably should’ve clued him in though. “It was for the best.”

“For the best?” Eduardo scoffs, incredulous. “You thought that removing your soul would be the ‘for the best’?”


“Oh yes please, inform me on how it was ‘for the best’, father,” he spits out, voice still raised.

“A businessman must not be compromised by trivial things like emotions.”

“’Tr-trivial’? ‘Trivial’?” he says, refusing to believe it. “You know what, pai? This, this, is the ultimate act of cowardice! Running away from your emotions?”

“I wasn’t running away from my emotions, I merely sacrificed them for success and our family’s well-being.”

“Well-being? Do mãe’s tears fall under that category? How does it feel to see her---oh wait, you wouldn’t know, would you?” His voice hurts and is a little hoarse from the yelling. “How much of your soul did they leave anyway?” He can’t help it. Morbid curiosity, he guesses.

“Two percent.”

“Jesus Christ, two percent?” he repeats, running a hand through his hair. “That might as well be none.”

“That was the point.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, I’m so glad I’m leaving soon. It’s a good fucking thing that Havard’s so far away that I don’t have to put with your bull shit anymore," he breathes before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

When it comes time for his freshman year at Harvard to start, the only hard part about leaving home is leaving his mother.

“Mãe, you know you don’t have to stay for him,” he begs, gazing at her skinny, too skinny, face. “He won’t feel anything if you leave. He isn’t capable of remorse, you know that.”

“I have to,” she sniffles, eyes shiny with tears. “I still love him. I’ll always love him. Besides, what is he going to do when he decides to buy back his soul and I’m not there?”

“That’s foolish, mãe.”

“Well, the foolish have hope, and sometimes, that’s enough.”

When Eduardo finally leaves Miami, he feels like the sereia, leaving his former life, leaving his father, leaving his family, and entering a new world, a new environment and maybe, maybe he’ll find his prince.

Fill: A Bird Can Sing With a Broken Wing 1c/?

His freshman year passes in a blur of algorithms, seminars, lectures, and the occasional party. Eduardo thinks he finds his princess or prince a couple of times but no, they’re never right. They’re never what he needs, what he really wants. But before he knows it, summer arrives, and it’s time to go home.

When he comes home, his mother is overjoyed and his father indifferent.

The summer passes even faster than the school year while he avoids his father under the watchful eye of his lonely mother, and a week before he flies back to Cambridge, his father calls him into his office directly.

“Is there something wrong, pai?”

“No, I just wanted to congratulate you on your outstanding grades this year, Eduardo,” he explains, barely any emotion in his voice. “I wanted to give you a gift.”

Eduardo looks down at the paper slip he slides across the desk toward him. “No, no, you’re kidding me. Why are you giving me this? You-you know how I feel about this.”

“You’re becoming a businessman,” he shrugs. “I’m just keeping the option open for you. I purposely paid the company to make this valid until 2015. You could go to any center up until 2015 and become a truly ruthless, unswerving, and successful businessman.”

“It’s insulting that you would think I would take this route, father.”

“You’re too emotional to be a successful businessman, Eduardo.”

“I’m not a coward.”

“This doesn’t make you a coward.”

“Yes. Yes, it does,” Eduardo sighs, frustrated. “There’s no point in arguing about this, it’ll only make mãe more upset. So… Thank you… For the sentiment.” And with that, he turned around, and went back to his room. He didn’t know where to put the piece of paper, so he just folded it up in thirds and tucked it into a random book he had lying around before stuffing it into the bottom of his suitcase.

A week later, he’s back at the airport with his teary mother, saying goodbye again.

“I’ll call,” he promises.

“I know,” she says. “Don’t forget to hope, querido. You can never be too hopeful. Never stop hoping, yeah?”

“Okay, I know, I won’t,” he promises. So many promises. He wonders if he’ll be able to keep them all.

And then he’s on his way away again, on a plane to Cambridge for the second time, leaving Miami for the second time, hoping for a happily ever after for the second time, and hoping for his prince a second time.

sereia: mermaid
querido: darling
Eu sempre o amarei, nenhuma questão o que: I'll always love you, no matter what.

Re: Fill: A Bird Can Sing With a Broken Wing 1c/?

I managed to post one part without anon-failing.

Re: Fill: A Bird Can Sing With a Broken Wing 1c/?

awwww, this is going to be heartbreaking

Fill: A Bird Can Sing With a Broken Wing 2a/?

Ugh. Boring, necessary fill, SORRY.


His sophomore year starts relatively uneventfully. He settles into his single (another “gift” from his father, the better one, really.) and looks into fraternities and clubs. He joins the Harvard Investors Association and when they ask him if he wants to run for a position, he thinks, fuck it, why not? and agrees to run. He mingles with some of the other students applying for the association. Some of them are dead in the eyes. He wants to throw up, he wants to leave, the gaze of too many dead, emotional eyes makes him uncomfortable, like his skin is stretched tight over his body. He graciously excuses himself through clenched teeth, a heavy pounding behind his eyes. Stepping outside, he lets the crisp early autumn air surround him as he breathes in, relishing the release in tension in his whole body. He hears the muffled noises of some kind of party in a building nearby, and he draws closer to the building, peering through the window before walking through the doorway largely unnoticed. Immediately, he feels out of place in his sharp, tailored suit among scrawny boys in worn t-shirts and skinny Asian girls dancing awkwardly in the corner with out-of-season sweaters paired with dark miniskirts and varying types of boots. It’s not really hip party, full of cheesy 90’s music and awkward pick-up lines.

He considers leaving and heading back to the Harvard Investors Association meeting, but there’s no discomfort here, no dead eyes, no feeling of overstretched skin, no reason to leave.
He stops a red-head walking by with two beers in hand, drinking from one greedily and staring at it disbelievingly in between gulps. Must be a freshman, he thinks. Only a freshman would look at cheap beer like that. “Hey, what’s this party for?”

“Only the best fraternity in the whole freaking school!” Red-Head yells, words slurring. “The fraternity of menorahs, Stars of David,and yamakas!”

Well, that explains the Asian girls, he thinks. “Oh, AEPi, right?”

“That’s right, Alpha freaking Epsilon Pi,” he says, drawing out the last syllable. “I’m Dustin Moskovitz, potential economics major, freshman,” he adds before sticking the unopened beer under his left arm, freeing his right hand and extending his arm out for a handshake.

Eduardo shakes it. “Eduardo Saverin, my major is also economics, and I’m a sophomore and considering pledging for this frat.”

“Oh god, don’t call it a frat. That just makes me imagine us as shirtless jocks with long, blonde hair and hot girlfriends that we cheat on at every single party,” Dustin says, shaking his head. “Nah, we are a fra-ter-ni-ty. We stop partying at two in the morning so we can do our homework, and we awkwardly ask out girls that are way out of our league. We are a freaking fraternity!”

Fill: A Bird Can Sing With a Broken Wing 2b/?

“Oh yeah, you’re definitely drunk. Do you freshmen not know how to pace yourselves when it comes to alcohol?” Dustin slumps up against the wall next to Eduardo. “Come on, how many beers have you had?”

“Don’t know,” he says shrugging and taking another sip from the bottle, finding it empty. “I lost count after my fourth trip to the cooler.”

“Alright then,” Eduardo says, pulling Dustin up. “You got any friends here who can take you to your room and manage not to kill either of you?”

“Christopher,” he answers in a southern drawl, leaning against Eduardo’s side. “Last I saw him, he was saving Mark from being beat up,” he pauses for a second. “He’s probably saving his ass as we speak.”

“Okay then, let’s go find this Christopher and take you home.”

They continued to wander around until Dustin stopped him in a room where a blonde boy was standing in between a shorter, curly-haired boy and some brawny brunette towering over both of them with glowering eyes.


All three heads turn simultaneously much to Eduardo’s amusement. “Um. Hi, I think he needs to go home. He’s kind of extremely drunk.”

“Oh,” the blonde musters, glancing at an inebriated Dustin pressed to Eduardo’s side. “He hasn’t started talking about how he’s secretly the little boy in Jurassic Park and how he had a name change and everything yet, has he?”

“Not that I know of,” Eduardo admits as Dustin mumbles, “It’s true, okay?”

“Good. We’ve got another twenty minutes to get him to Kirkland before he passes out, then.” He turns around and mutters something to the taller boy that has gone back to glaring at the curly-haired boy behind Christopher, and with a wide-eyed look of incredulity, he bolts out of the room, and most of the room follows suit, virtually leaving the four boys alone in the room.

Christopher walks to the other side of Dustin and shifts his weight from Eduardo’s side to his own. “Thanks, by the way. For taking care of him. I’m Chris Hughes,” he smiles. He nods towards the boy with curly hair staring at the floor, “And that’s Mark.”

“Eduardo Saverin,” he replies before shaking Chris’s hand. He turns to Mark to offer his hand, but when Mark looks up, Eduardo’s stops breathing for a second. He takes in the familiar, passive, blank expression and thinks Of course. They’re everywhere now. But then. But then he takes a startled step backwards when he brings himself to meet his eyes, to face the cold, face the dead when.


Mark’s eyes are anything but dead. Anything but empty. They’re twinkling with some kind of amusement and curiosity, and they’re blue, the most beautiful shade of blue that brings oceans and sereias to mind. He apologizes, muttering something about drinking a little too much, which is a blatant lie because he hasn’t had the opportunity to really take an alcohol break since the school year’s started. Mark stares back with the same expression, but his eyes have shifted to something unreadable. Before Eduardo can say anything, Mark turns around abruptly, leaving the room.

Chris walks up from behind him, dragging Dustin with him. “Well, that’s Mark,” he says apologetically. “I’m honestly surprised that he stayed this long.” He turns around before leaving with Dustin. “Hey, see you around, Eduardo.”

Fill: A Bird Can Sing With a Broken Wing 3a/?

The following Monday, Eduardo walks into his eight o’clock economics lecture and finds an excited Dustin in the first row frantically gesturing at him then the empty seat next to him.

“Hey Eduardo,” he greets as Eduardo drops his sleek messenger bag on the floor next to his feet as he sinks into the plastic seat. “So Chris says that I should invite you over for drinks and video games or something for, and I quote, ‘saving my ass from collapsing in a drunken state and probably dying by choking on my own vomit’. I don’t even throw up when I get drunk! I ramble then pass out!”

Eduardo laughs at Dustin’s wild gesticulations. “You probably just don’t you vomit. Chris looks like the type of guy who would clean that up within three minutes of you actually throwing up.”

Dustin makes a strange face that resembles a pouting turtle of some kind and asks, “So does that mean you’re coming or not? You’ve met my suitemates, Chris and Mark, and well, we have another one named Billy, but he’s rarely in the dorm anyway, so you might as well come.”

Eduardo hesitates and thinks it over for a second. He thinks of empty, disapproving eyes, and he thinks of how much he still has to do, join clubs, do homework, make connections, study, and opens his mouth to decline Dustin’s offer. Before he can say anything though, the professor walks in and Eduardo scrambles for his notebook to take notes.

Ten minutes into the lecture, Eduardo is trying his best to pay attention, but Dustin slips him a piece of paper hastily ripped from the corner of one of the pages on his own notebook with “You should really come over after class. I could totally own you at Mario Kart. Plus, we could use you as an excuse to pull Mark away from the computer and be human” scrawled across it in messy script. Eduardo looks at Dustin and is about to shake his head apologetically when he thinks of contradicting blue eyes and passive expressions and changes his mind at the last second, nodding and subsequently smiling at Dustin’s excited expression.

After the lecture finishes, Eduardo walks with Dustin to Kirkland House, a place that he’s walked past a couple times but never actually been inside. On the way they discuss Dustin’s vacillating thoughts on deciding his major, whether to stick with economics or rather, something computer related. When Dustin talks about creating websites (“It’s an art form really, Eduardo” he insists.) his eyes light up with the mention of an insurmountable amount of possibilities and only the limits of your own intelligence and persistence to deter you on an endless

As Dustin takes out his key card to scan it, he pauses for a second. “Oh, and about Mark...” he says, biting his lips hesitantly. “Don’t be offended if he doesn’t talk. Or regard you in any way. That’s just... That’s just how he is.” He looks up at Eduardo curiously. “You know, I’m surprised he didn’t protest when Chris suggested that I invite you over. Usually he’s either wired in or complaining that someone’s too stupid, or too bigoted, or has no sense of humor. Well admittedly, Mark does have a strange sense of humor.” He finally gets the door open and holds it open for Eduardo. “But seriously, Mark being Mark shouldn’t stop you from coming over and hanging out with us, okay?” Eduardo nods in understanding, suddenly even more curious about the enigmatic boy with beautiful blue eyes.

Fill: A Bird Can Sing With a Broken Wing 3b/?

When he finally enters the suite, the first thing he registers is the smell. It’s strange how Eduardo feels drawn in just by the smell. There’s nothing potentially appealing about the odor, a mixture of worn clothes, teenage boys, and something akin to stale air. Really though, altogether it makes him feel a strange sense of completion. This place. This cluttered room that could really do with a good airing-out that he’s never been in makes him feel like he’s finally home. Huh.

He’s greeted by Chris with a beer in his hand a smile on his face. “I’m actually surprised you decided to come,” he admits as he hands Eduardo the beer. “Usually people are scared off by ginger Jews that believe that Jurassic Park actually happened and that the government is just hiding it from us.”

An offended squawk comes from the couch where Dustin has settled himself, reaching blindly at the TV remote. “There are plenty of people on the internet who agree with me, okay?” he huffs, pouting before turning on the game console and starting a game that Eduardo’s never heard of but seems to have to do with a lot of guns and shooting things. “Christopher, go get our dear Marcus, please. He needs to properly meet Eduardo and play this new game I got.”

Chris groaned next to Eduardo. “He wouldn’t even look up when I tried to make him eat a sandwich earlier!” he complained, exasperated. “And then when I forcibly pulled him away from the laptop, he started cussing me out!”

“Is he really that bad?” Eduardo wonders, amused.

“You have no. Idea. He is a monster.”

“Which one’s his room?”

Chris points behind him at a shut door and when Eduardo really starts to listen he hears a rapid stream of the familiar clicks and clacks of a laptop keyboard.

“Well then, I want to meet this ‘monster’,” Eduardo states as he strides toward the closed door.

Chris makes an aborted move to stop him, to protest, but seems to reconsider and shrugs. “Good luck then,” he offers, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, you’ll need it!” a distracted Dustin adds from the couch, toggling the setup options in the video game as Chris moves next to him and watches Eduardo.

When Eduardo nears the door and the click clacks grow louder, he knocks quietly on the door. He gets no response, so he knocks again, louder this time. When there is still no response, he looks back at Chris and gestures vaguely at the door handle and Chris waves nonchalantly as if to say Sure, you can open the door, but it’s at your own risk, so Eduardo turns around and opens the door.

Re: Fill: A Bird Can Sing With a Broken Wing 3c/? - (Anonymous), 2011-12-13 07:34 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: Fill: A Bird Can Sing With a Broken Wing 3c/? - (Anonymous), 2011-12-14 01:25 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: Fill: A Bird Can Sing With a Broken Wing 3c/? - (Anonymous), 2011-12-14 05:31 pm (UTC)(Expand)

Fill: A Bird Can Sing With a Broken Wing 4a/?

Oh my god. What happens if I never get to the actual prompt? God, I'm so sorry. I have no self-control.

Also, in case you haven't figured it out by now, this story isn't really a Cold Souls!au but rather, and au that involves something much like the soul storage in Cold Souls.


Eduardo finds himself spending virtually all of his time in the Kirkland suite as the year progresses. Really, the only time he’s even in the dorm is when he turns in for the night. So naturally, he doesn’t often socialize or really get to know anyone in his building, let alone on his floor.

One day he stays in his room to study for his big econ midterm (he is not thinking about beautiful blue eyes, he is not) because let’s face it, Kirkland is full of distractions, and dammit, this test is really important. So he locks the door and essentially isolates himself from the rest of the world by switching his phone off and shoving his laptop under the bed and out of reach.

He immerses himself in his textbook for about two hours, reading and rereading, and only stops to take a break when the words start swimming in front of his eyes, indecipherable and blurry. He considers his cell phone for a second, but shakes his head and decides to explore the building real quick instead. He walks out in the hall and realizes that it’s quiet. Very quiet. In fact, he starts to find it hard to believe that the building is inhabited by college students because really, the lack of noise has reached a creepy, post-apocalyptic level.

He’s just about to run to Kirkland to make sure that those dinosaurs Dustin keep mentioning haven’t come to life and eaten everyone when a door on the right side of the hall opens and a blonde girl starts to walk towards him.

She’s obviously heading toward the exit behind him, but he can’t help but give a short little wave paired with a relieved smile. He freezes mid-wave though, because she just breezes on by, eyes dull and blank, devoid of any emotion.

Oh, singles. Of course. Who else would live in singles?

All of a second he can’t breathe properly and he finds himself walking across the campus towards the now very familiar Kirkland House.

When he enters, he finds all three boys sitting on the couch watching a bad action movie for once, and Dustin doesn’t even look up before saying, “Hey Wardo, where have you been all day?”

Mark doesn’t take his eyes away from the TV before replying. “He’s been studying for the midterm, Dustin,” he says before mumbling under his breath, “Which is more than I can say for you,”

“Hey!” Dustin protests as Eduardo walks around towards the couch and seats himself next to Mark. “I watch movies when I’m stressed, okay? It’s all part of a very complicated but logical system.”

“I’m sure it is,” Chris butts in, rolling his eyes.

Dustin scoffs and pouts as he crosses his arms.

Eduardo grins, relishing how animated they all are, “Don’t worry, Dustin. I believe you.”

This time Mark scoffs.

Eduardo ultimately ends up crashing at Kirkland, on accident really, curled up on Mark’s twin bed with the white-blue light from Mark’s laptop washing over him, facing the wall.

When he wakes up, Mark is next to him, facing the other way, breathing softly and facial features perfect.

Eduardo stays over a lot more now.

(no subject) - yunsi, 2011-12-21 03:31 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - impromptu_song, 2012-01-31 02:45 am (UTC)(Expand)

Fill: A Bird Can Sing With a Broken Wing 5/?

Ugh, I know it's been weeks since I last updated... I feel like this is going nowhere (there was not much success in this part, I just wanted to get something posted so you're aware that I haven't spontaneously fallen off the face of the earth or anything) and I've been quite busy lately. I'm trying to plan this thing out so I don't spend months on a passage about how the light is reflected perfectly in Mark's eyes or something. So, I apologize in advance for this pointless sorry excuse of a part.


Friday nights are their get-spectacularly-drunk-and-do-whatever nights and they do just that, virtually cleaning out the suite’s mini-fridge and watching some cult classic movie or whatever local news is playing. Usually the nights they decide to watch the news involve Chris shouting at everything relating to politics or Chris shouting at anyone who leaves Fox News on.

One particular Friday, they’re all gathered on the couch, Dustin draped over one of the arms with Chris leaning back next to him, Mark coding sporadically with his laptop on his knees and Eduardo pressed to his side. Eduardo’s only halfway through his first beer, not drunk, not sober, just mostly buzzed. Dustin’s evidently had a couple of beers with his never-ending diatribe regarding about the ever-rising cost of alcohol, and Chris is two beers in, slightly flushed, while arguing with Dustin over which type of cheap beer deserved their consumption the most. Eduardo chuckles along with the increasingly ridiculous arguments (“No, Christopher! You don’t understand! Becks is actually a concoction whipped up with unicorn piss, fairy jizz, and brewed by elves with long, golden hair!”) and, unsurprisingly, steals occasional glances at Mark. Out of the four of the them, Mark is the only one truly sober in the suite at the moment, but to be fair, he’s had a couple of red bulls and about two hours of sleep in the last twenty-four hours, so it evens out.

Out of the corner of his eye, Eduardo spies Mark looking up from his laptop all of a sudden and eyeing the TV screen with furrowed eyebrows. He briefly wishes he could capture Mark’s attention like that and looks toward the news and sees a picture of a blond woman with empty gray eyes.

The news anchor is saying something about Russians trafficking souls and Eduardo doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t want to see those empty, empty eyes, but he can’t tear his eyes away. The news anchor starts getting into the logistics of soul storage; extracting the soul, trapping the soul in a container, locking it up, and dealing with the residual pieces of souls.

Next to him, Mark makes a little noise of acknowledgement, and Eduardo can’t help but feel a little betrayed, heart aching a little when Mark furrows his eyebrows at the TV screen and remarks, “Sounds like a good business investment, doesn’t it? Nothing to impair your judgement, no trivial emotions to hold you back.”

“Mark,” Chris chastises from the other end of the sofa. He and Dustin have evidently stopped arguing about the merits of cheap beer and are now also staring at the screen. “You have to keep in mind that these are actual human souls. Without our souls we become mere shells. We become emotion-less and robot-like. Walking down the street would resemble walking amongst zombies without all the blood and gore.”

“Let’s be honest though,” Dustin adds. “Mark is already pretty emotion-less and robot-like. This soul storage thing probably wouldn’t even have that great of an effect on him.”
Eduardo doesn’t realize until now that he’s clenching his teeth, jaw tight, trying to push away the image of empty, empty blue eyes staring at him. He wants to scream, but he can’t. Not here. Not now.

He abruptly stands up, muttering something about early classes tomorrow and walks toward the door, swinging it open and trying his best not to slam it when he hears Chris continuing to try to convince Mark that soul storage is a bad idea while Dustin shouts, “GOODBYE MY DEAR EDUARDO!”

He practically stomps the whole way back to his dorm. After entering his room, he slams the door shut and locks it.

The next morning he picks up clothes and books strewn violently about the room while he imagines his mother shaking her head sadly at the mess and his shaking fingers.

Re: Fill: A Bird Can Sing With a Broken Wing 5/? - (Anonymous), 2012-01-31 06:04 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: Fill: A Bird Can Sing With a Broken Wing 5/? - (Anonymous), 2012-02-01 09:44 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: Fill: A Bird Can Sing With a Broken Wing 5/? - (Anonymous), 2012-02-01 09:58 pm (UTC)(Expand)

Fill: A Bird Can Sing With a Broken Wing 6a/?

Well. It's been a while. Sorry about that.


It’s afternoon when he comes back to the Kirkland suite. Eduardo had internally debated returning for hours on end, unable to stay away yet desperate to avoid Mark and his impenetrable gaze. In the end, his determinedly masochistic traits win out and he walks into Mark’s room with a box of take-out for him (as usual) and sits on his bed (as usual) as Mark stays at his desk, coding (as usual). But then, Mark turns around with an unreadable expression.

“Hi Wardo.”

He swallows. “Hi Mark.”

“Ar--you’re okay, right?”

Eduardo is confused. “Um. Yes... I’m fine.”

“Okay. That’s good,” Mark concludes with a decisive nod of his head before turning back to his computer.

Eduardo blinks. What was that supposed to be?

They don’t talk about the night before.

They don’t talk about how Eduardo had left early.

They don’t talk about how it was the first Friday night Eduardo had spent in his own dorm in months.

They don’t talk about how Eduardo didn’t actually have classes on Saturdays.

He did in the beginning of the year, but when he woke up next to Mark in the morning, he needed an excuse to not leave, and spend some time (if only a couple of extra minutes or seconds) admiring the fluttering of his eyelashes or the way his chest rises and falls. So he doesn’t have classes on Saturdays anymore.

Things go back to normal after that.

Eduardo continues to bring food for Mark while Mark works on a program named CourseMatch to share course schedules with other students. Sometimes Eduardo asks Mark to explain the concept behind the program just to see the way his eyes light up and brighten as he talks about using the Internet as the new means of communication. (“Not just e-mail, Wardo. It’ll eventually be more than that. Soon everything will be on the Internet.”)

When the program is finally uploaded after countless hours of clacking keyboards and Eduardo’s persistent attempts at dragging Mark away from the computer, it becomes relatively popular and Mark garners attention in some crowds, namely the ones involved with computers with technology.

One night the four of them decide to go out to celebrate the success of CourseMatch. They decide on a bar within walking distance aptly named The Thirsty Scholar. When they arrive, the popular bar is crowded, and they manage to claim a booth with lots of bargaining (Chris), excessive shouting (Dustin), biting insults (Mark), and rushed apologies (Eduardo).

“I still don’t understand why celebration is necessary,” Mark grumbles as he plops down across from Chris and Dustin and sliding over for Eduardo.

“Mark! You made a contribution to society,” explains Dustin, hands flailing. “Robots don’t tend to do such philanthropic things of their own accord.”

Re: Fill: A Bird Can Sing With a Broken Wing 6b/? - (Anonymous), 2013-04-24 04:51 pm (UTC)(Expand)