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The Social Network: the kink meme!

It's Complicated: But sexy!

Mark Zuckerberg
The Sarcastic Kitty oresteia wrote in tsn_kinkmeme
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[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, warning for underage

Wherein Eduardo is a 20 year old camp counselor and Mark is the uncooperative, snarky 16 year old camper who decides the best way to get through the summer is to seduce the sweet older boy.

Lots of Eduardo resisting his urges until he gives into illicit past lights out kissing and blow jobs.

FILL - "Breaking Down" Part 1A/?: Eduardo/Mark, warning for underage

I've decided to just post what I have so far, and the rest will be in parts. Here we go!

Of course his mother would make him early to arrive to summer camp—I mean, honestly? The ride was uncomfortable and Mark spent the entire 3 hour ride staring out of the window, tight-lipped, arms crossed. Camp River Way. What kind of fucking name is that? His mother had to shoot down the only camp he was interested in, she has absolutely no respect for the things he actually enjoys doing. Mark enjoys working with computers, he aspires to one day become a programmer. One mention of the iD Programming Academy held at Stanford to his mother was met with a heavysigh, frown lines growing deeper, and a “Mark, the point of summer camp is to be outside, not to be stuck computer classroom with a bunch of other anti-social teenagers.” There it was again. Ever since that one session with the therapist that was supposed to get to the “root of Mark's problems,” the word “anti-social” ran quite rampant in his mother's vocabulary. No computer, no internet, nothing interesting for a whole month. Oh, and if that wasn't enough, here's the real cherry on that fucking metaphorical sundae—Camp River Way's age-range? 10-16. Yes, that's right, Mark is the oldest you can possibly be to attend this camp full of snot-nosed and sticky middle school kids. Should I get the noose now?
Apparently when you arrive at camp early, you miss all the hubbub that Mark's only seen on television (all the buses pulled up, seemingly thousands of people, crowded and scary, all embracing, all excited to spend their next month sleeping on a mattress constructed out of cardboard, springs, and the germs of literally hundreds of kids before you). Camp River Way certainly doesn't look as happy or welcoming as any camps Mark can reference from TV, what with the empty parking lot (no mom, leaving at the crack of dawn was a wonderful idea) and one person standing on the lawn, ready to greet them. His mom rushes out of the car, big fake smile plastered on, walking to shake the persons hand. Mark sits in the car, arms still crossed, eyes closed, hoping he wakes from this extremely detailed nightmare soon. Sighing, Mark opens his eyes and looks through the windshield at his mother gesturing wildly, talking to the male camp counselor who is to “show him the ropes” or something equally as nauseating. The camp counselor is too tall, and Mark can't see his face while he's still in the car. He can tell there is something about the counselor's long legs encased in fitted regulation-length khaki's, and a bright green polo tucked in, clingy neatly on his small but strong frame. His posture is relaxed and easy, he's probably dealt with many other very high-strung mothers. The counselor grips a clipboard in one big hand, a hand that looks too big to belong on a person so compact.
Mark's curiosity pulled him out of the car, backpack in hand—he felt compelled to see this man's face, he had to know what he looked like, even though he couldn't wrap his mind around exactly why. Mark forces himself not to stretch (a feat, considering how small his mother's car is and how long that fucking ride was) not wanting his first impression to be as a stupid-looking spider. He looks toward his mother and the camp counselor, his mother's voice even louder out of the car, fake laughter and all. The counselor turns toward Mark, smile blindingly white and only mildly infuriating. Mark absolutely cannot stop staring. The counselor's hair a tumbled yet groomed honey brown mess upon his head, kind light brown eyes meeting his own, encased by crinkled lines keeping his smile unfailingly genuine, a wide mouth pulled into a close-mouthed smile, growing wider as Mark stared on, showing bits of slightly crooked teeth.

Re: FILL - "Breaking Down" Part 1B/?: Eduardo/Mark, warning for underage

“Hi, Mark. I'm Andrew. I'm the counselor assigned to your group's cabin. Nice to meet you, your mother's just told me all about you.” Mark snaps out of his daze as he listens to the camp counselor—Andrew—speak. Mark swore his voice sounded like fucking British bells tinkling, it was so annoyingly cheery and his accent so out of place in Southern California, though his skin much more even and tan than Mark's could ever get. He seems so nice, so frustratingly nice, but Mark needs something to hate about this place. It's what he's used to, it's what he's most comfortable with.
Walking over with a scoff, “Too bad my mother doesn't know much about me—she sent me here, after all,” Mark deadpanned. Mark looks away, didn't want to see the look in the counselor's—Andrew's—face after his comment. Mark's mother's annoyance with his less-than-friendly comment went unnoticed as the man laughs, unfazed by Mark's comment. “Mark, I know that you're less than excited to be here, but I'm here to make sure you have a great experience here at Camp River Way.” Mark chucks the backpack on his shoulder, turning toward his mom now, “Well, I wish you luck, Counselor Andrew, but I seriously doubt I'll have any 'great experiences' here.” His mom's irritation with Mark is all in her eyes, the tense and tight way she's looking at him, “Okay, honey,” she stresses, “Let's get all your things out of the car so I can be on my way, shall we?” complete with false cheer. “Oh, absolutely, mother.” Mark jeers back smiling fakely back at her, making the word “mother” sound like an insult. Mark spares a glance at the counselor—Andrew—quickly noticing he hasn't lost that relaxed smile that should be goofy, but isn't at all on his more mature, but still boyish face. Mark quickly walks back to the car, all limbs and hoodie, and retrieves his bag from the trunk all the while catching parts of his mother profusely apologizing to the counselor (“I'm so sorry, I don't know why he has such an attitude about this whole experience... I just want what's best for him...”). As Mark slams the trunk closed, he can see Counselor Andrew looking at him while still conversing with his mother, but Mark isn't listening anymore. He doesn't seem to be looking at Mark as if he's in charge and Mark is just some kid here for camp, he's looking at Mark as if they're equal, as if he can actually see Mark like no one has ever been able to. It's strange, unsettling, and refreshing.
Mark breaks the stare and glares daggers at his mom, clutching his duffel strap on his shoulder. “All right, Mark, I'm going to go now. I really do hope that you have fun. Call whenever you can, honey.” She goes in for a hug, Mark recoils at that, shifting his feet and looking around uncomfortably. “Goodbye, mom,” Mark says through his teeth, unkindly. Mark's mother shakes her head, but gets in the car and leaves Mark standing there with the counselor—Andrew—still slightly smiling. Mark wonders if it hurts to keep your face like that for so long, and frowns. Andrew pats him on the shoulder, and nudges him, like a friend would (if Mark had any friends, of course), “C'mon, I'll show you around.”

More to come! xx

FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (1a/?)

er, hello, kink meme! long time no see! um, I promised to fill this for ohnvm, but in my head this is going to be a long, UST-filled thing with lots of filthy underage/adult sex to come, so it could be a long journey. thus, the WIP! this is very tame now (I really want to build up to things) but it is definitely, definitely not going to stay that way, hee. enjoy!


Nobody believes Eduardo when he says he genuinely likes his job, which doesn’t make a lot of sense to him. He doesn’t really have to work, no matter how many dirty looks and unsubtle mutterings his father tends to throw his way when he happens to be home on a summer weekday. No, his mother can take care of that with a few well-placed smacks to the back of his father’s head; his father may talk a big game but even he isn’t dumb enough to get between Sandra Saverin’s wrath and her youngest baby boy.

No, Eduardo works by choice, and it’s because he likes being out in the bright Florida sun, likes staying in motion and working up a sweat and listening to people laugh. Guys at school always groan and pat him sympathetically on the back when he tells them about his work at the camp, and offer to set him up with internships at their fathers’ offices or things like that.

Eduardo supposes he’ll have to make that leap eventually, that this is probably last summer he can spend working as a camp counselor. That’s just a part of becoming an adult, especially when you go to Harvard: your summers aren’t really your own to have fun, but to prepare and start working towards the future.

But for this summer, Eduardo is more than happy to push that thought away for another day, take off the suits he wears during the school year, stack his books up under his bed, and head to Camp Glades. He packs his duffle bag only with the essentials (which, okay, are maybe more than what other people would call essentials, but just because he likes camp doesn’t mean he dislikes the comforts of home, too. He can be rustic and practical, it’s not a crime), kisses his mother goodbye, and drives down to Coral Gables.

The first day of camp is sunny and sticky, and Eduardo ushers in the campers with a big smile that is one hundred percent real. He is happy to high-five returning campers, grins brightly and welcomes each new face just as emphatically as the rest.

He accepts an enthusiastic hug from one of his favorite returning campers, now in his third summer at Camp Glades, and even allows him to reach up and ruffle his hair (one of the things he had refused to allow himself to pack was hair gel, because it really gets to be a pain out here, and he’s gotten sick of mosquitoes getting stuck in his hair).

“Eduardo!” Dustin calls excitedly, grinning up at him as he steps down from the hug. “How’s Harvard? Are you preparing all the hot chicks for me?”

Eduardo chuckles, shaking his head. Dustin has had his heart set on Harvard since he was 14 and learned that that was where Eduardo was going to school. He’d spent all of last summer peppering Eduardo with questions about it, telling him all about his awesome grades and the extracurriculars he had picked up on Eduardo’s advice. Eduardo doesn’t doubt that he’ll make it there, and sometimes feels a bit sorry he won’t be there when Dustin is; he’s a lot of fun, something that Eduardo sometimes lacks at school.

“They’re not gonna know what hit them, Dustin,” Eduardo answers, ruffling Dustin’s hair in turn, happy that he had come back.

Edited at 2012-01-19 09:30 am (UTC)

FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (1b/?)

Dustin isn’t the only returning camper who stops by to say hello on the way to their cabins. Christy Lee has shot up a few inches and, thankfully, seems to have outgrown her crush on Eduardo from the previous years, evidenced by the fact that she just gives him a wave and a smile that’s polite enough. Last summer, she had alternated between tailing his every movement with wide, lovestruck eyes or calling him nasty names, telling him he’s a jerk for existing. Eduardo is relieved about this much more tame greeting, and notices that accompanying Christy is the more quiet, composed Erica Albright; he supposes Erica is rubbing off on Christy and is grateful for it.

Girls mature much faster than boys, Eduardo knows. Crushing campers are tricky, especially when they’re as emotionally volatile as Christy, and he’s looking forward to a summer free of that kind of trickiness.

Of course, then he meets Mark Zuckerberg.

The sun slides away during the second week of camp, something Eduardo had predicted easily enough. He’s happy that the rain breaks the heat a bit and is content enough to play soccer in the mud with the brave campers who venture outside, but most prefer to stay indoors and work on crafts with Chris, one of the other counselors who had stared out at the rain with an unhappy frown.

Chris had the right idea, really, because it’s not long before one of the younger kids slides in the mud and scrapes his knee up pretty badly. Eduardo gives in to the inclement weather and asks an assistant counselor to bring the rest of the soccer players inside, calling out a vehement, “Sorry!” to their responding groans, and he helps the hobbling boy to the nurse’s cabin.

Eduardo meets Mark when he’s covered in mud, dotted with sweat and rainwater, waiting outside the nurse’s office as she checks the injured soccer player’s knee.

“Hi,” Eduardo says pleasantly, as he always does. He recognizes Mark vaguely, though he knows he’s new to the camp; he always makes sure to remember new faces at orientation. Mark inclines his curly-haired head, scowling at the floor as he throws himself into a folding chair. “It won’t be long, I don’t think, Nurse Ritter’s just dealing with a scrape in there. Are you sick?”

“No,” Mark says. “I don’t even need to see her, Chris just wouldn’t stop bugging me until I went.”

Eduardo bites down on a smile. Mark’s thin shoulders are hunched, his hands clenched into fists over his bony knees sticking out of his cargo shorts. Eduardo knows this kind of camper, knows it’s why he hasn’t seen Mark out in any of the outdoor activities: Mark doesn’t want to be here, is determined to hate camp. Eduardo likes those campers because he is usually good at changing their minds.

“Chris does that,” Eduardo says companionably, not even faking it, because it’s true; Chris can be the nagging kind of counselor, the one who likes sticking to rules and keeping everyone safe above all else. Dustin routinely drives him crazy by wandering off on his own on hikes, sending Chris yelling and chasing after him.

But Mark whips his head up, bright blue eyes narrowing, like he thinks this is an adult trick to get past his defenses. Eduardo wants to explain that he is definitely not that kind of adult; he doesn’t ever actually feel like any kind of adult when he’s here, except for when 15-year-old girls have giggling crushes on him. “It’s just these stupid bites,” Mark tells him, holding his arm up. Eduardo can see a large, red and painful-looking mosquito bite raised on the pale skin, swollen enough to tell him why Chris had sent him in. “Chris says I must be allergic, but whatever, it’s just a mosquito bite, it doesn’t even hurt that much. It’s totally pointless.”

“Yeah, but maybe Nurse Ritter can give you some cream to make it feel better,” Eduardo says, and Mark huffs and slumps down again, like even that’s annoying. Eduardo finds himself trying not to smile again; there is something endearing about Mark’s stubborn pessimism.

“Whatever,” Mark mutters, tucking his arm around his stomach.

FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (1c/?)

Eduardo lets him pout for no reason, maybe starting to enjoy the experience a little too much. He remembers being a teenager—okay, so it wasn’t that long ago, but whatever—and basically hating the world, even when there wasn’t much about it to hate. He likes being on the other side of it, appreciating things like camp and summer fun. He wants Mark on the other side, too.

The younger soccer player scampers out smiling, telling Eduardo, “Nurse Ritter says I can help her restock her supply cabinet!”

“Great!” Eduardo says, grinning pointedly when he catches Mark rolling his eyes in his peripheral vision. Amy, the camp nurse, steps out and waves Mark in, clucking sympathetically when she immediately spots the bite. The boy with the newly bandaged knee busies himself with Amy’s shelves and a box of bandages, and Eduardo can leave him here, he knows, Amy will walk him to dinner, but he lingers because, well. He’s not exactly sure why, but rationalizes that it’s not like he has much else to do.

Mark returns looking even more sullen, somehow, holding a small tube of ointment that he stuffs in his pocket once he sees that Eduardo’s still there. Amy follows him out with her hand on her hips, sharing an amused glance with Eduardo, and says, “Maybe if you participated in some activities, you’d be moving too fast for the mosquitoes to catch you, Mark.”

Mark turns and frowns at her, cocking his head to the side. “Do you understand how mosquitoes work? I don’t think you do.”

“You should play soccer with us tomorrow,” Eduardo jumps in, expecting and even welcoming the completely unimpressed stare that earns him. “No, really, I’ve heard mosquitoes don’t like active blood.”

“Seriously,” Mark says flatly, looking between them both. “Mosquitoes aren’t that fickle.”

“You should play anyway,” Eduardo says, undeterred. A frown pulls at Mark’s lips, and that’s exactly the opposite of what Eduardo wants (he’s surprised by how much he hates the sight, caught off guard by how vehemently he wants to fix it, but chalks it up to how rampant his do-gooder attitude gets out here). So he hurries to say, “I want you to, Mark.”

Mark’s eyes lock on his, piercing and unflinching, and Eduardo finds himself inexplicably pinned by the gaze. It’s slightly unsettling, especially with how he can’t seem to look away, and Eduardo hopes his smile doesn’t reflect his nervousness, tries to infuse it with as much sunshine as possible. Mark’s lips quirk upwards in response, the slightest twitch of a smirk, and then he licks his lips.

And Eduardo should absolutely not be tracing the movement of his tongue, and he’s immediately appalled with himself that he is.

“Really?” Mark says, and it’s the high, slightly cracked voice that pulls Eduardo out of his head, makes him shake himself internally, reminding himself that he is looking at the mouth of a boy who can be no older than 16; there is something wrong with him.

He makes his voice as firm as possible. “Really, I do.” He tries not to think about how much he wants Mark there, and definitely, certainly, doesn’t think about why. He gives himself another internal shake, clearing his head and dismissing the lapse as stupid, fleeting; Eduardo has never, ever been this inappropriate while working here, and he’s certainly not going to start in what’s likely to be his last summer.

“Fine,” Mark says shortly, and his lips are still caught in a smirk. Eduardo concentrates on not looking at them (not that Mark’s direct, pointed gaze is any better, and Eduardo is totally not allowed to notice how utterly blue his eyes are) and instead nods.

He doesn’t think about how much he means it when he says, “Great! I’m glad,” and he certainly doesn’t think about why.

Edited at 2012-01-19 09:32 am (UTC)

(no subject) - oflights, 2012-01-29 04:26 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (1c/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-01-19 07:51 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - oflights, 2012-01-29 04:27 pm (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - oflights, 2012-01-29 04:27 pm (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - oflights, 2012-01-29 04:28 pm (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - oflights, 2012-01-29 04:29 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (1c/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-01-20 02:55 pm (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - oflights, 2012-01-29 04:29 pm (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - oflights, 2012-01-29 04:30 pm (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - oflights, 2012-01-29 04:31 pm (UTC)(Expand)
(Deleted comment)
(no subject) - oflights, 2012-01-29 04:31 pm (UTC)(Expand)

FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (2a/?)

ughhh, i am SO sorry for the long wait in updates, and that this is such a short one! i just really wanted to get something up, because i've kept you guys waiting. i promise to have more up ASAP, with a lot more substantial stuff going on. enjoy, and thanks for your comments! <3

Mark doesn’t show up to soccer the next day, and Eduardo isn’t exactly surprised, though he tries to tell himself he’s not 10 times more disappointed than the situation warrants. He plasters on his normal grin and runs drills as normal, leads a long jog around camp under heavy gray clouds to stay active and motivated. If he slows down a bit around the boys’ cabins, it’s really not on purpose; the kids are getting tired, and the muggy heat is oppressive and damp.

Eduardo sees Mark at dinner, now that he’s looking out for him, and suppresses the urge to go and ask him about his no-show. He knows that these kinds of challenges take time; Mark isn’t just going to suddenly decide to show up to activities because Eduardo asked him to. He has to play it cool for now, because if he shows how invested he is in this (and he’s getting a bit uneasy about his own investment, just a little bit, but chalks it up to this being his likely last year at Camp Glades), Mark will probably just laugh at him.

So he ignores Mark, even when he feels Mark looking over at him from his table (he’s sitting with Dustin, Erica and Christy, Eduardo notes through the glances he steals when he thinks he can get away with it. Dustin is talking Mark’s ear off and alternately flicking peas at Christy, who looks ready to stab him with her cutlery). Eduardo neatly eats his mac and cheese, talks to Chris about school, and very carefully does not think too much about Mark Zuckerberg.

Of course, this means that the next day, Mark deems it necessary to surprise Eduardo and show up to soccer. He’s being dragged along by Dustin, who seems entirely too excited to be heading to a sport he’s historically awful at, and wearing basketball shorts and a thin, threadbare t-shirt.

Eduardo catches himself staring at Mark’s skinny legs, swimming in the baggy shorts, and immediately shakes his head and starts smiling as widely as he can. Mark squints up at him in the bright sunlight, frowning slightly as he stands in front of Eduardo and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“You made it!” Eduardo says brightly, and Mark’s frown deepens.

“Doesn’t your face hurt?”


“You look like you’re going to split your jaw open,” Mark tells him, and really, that shouldn’t make Eduardo smile wider, it really shouldn’t, but it sort of does. Now Mark’s frown looks a bit like a smirk, and he ducks his head.

“Mark, don’t be a troll, you’re finally out of your cave,” Dustin says, letting Mark’s arm go to then punch him on it.

Mark turns a scowl on him, and Eduardo can’t help blurting out, “No hitting, Dustin,” just reflexively. Dustin pouts, crossing his arms over his chest, like Eduardo was really chastising him, and Mark rolls his eyes.

“Okay, so, I’m here,” Mark announces, spreading his arms and raising an eyebrow. “What now?”

“Eduardo runs drills!” pipes up a smaller boy named Tommy, popping up at Eduardo’s side. Mark eyes this boy warily, as if he’s being tricked, but Eduardo nods and smiles kindly at Tommy.

“Right, Tommy. Why don’t you go get everyone in formation for me?”

“Yes, sir!” Tommy says, saluting, and Mark snorts as he scampers away. Eduardo looks back at him, continuing to smile stubbornly.

“You too, Mark, get in formation. Dustin, I’m assuming you’re here to cheerlead, not actually play.”

“You know me and my two left feet so well, Wardo,” Dustin sighs, parroting Tommy’s little salute. He scampers off, too, this time to the sidelines, and Mark watches him go with a betrayed sort of scowl.

“Don’t worry, you’re going to have tons of fun, Mark,” Eduardo says, and the fact that Mark looks at him like that’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard should not be so damn endearing; it should be insulting.

But he keeps smiling as, after a bit more prodding, Mark jogs over to the kids lining up for kicking drills, because it’s better than staring at him as he jogs away. Which Eduardo inexplicably wants to do, even as it makes him feel like a major creep.

FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (2b/?)

He explains the drills to the kids loudly, addressing all the campers even if it’s really for Mark’s benefit. Eduardo is again careful not to stare, not to give Mark too much attention, because he doesn’t want make him feel like a special case.

He quickly learns that soccer definitely isn’t Mark’s sport, either; he’s fast but kicks way too hard, often sending Eduardo running after the ball from where it’s landed way downfield. He’s terrible at passing, seems to get annoyed when anybody gets too close to him or crowds him, and at one point just sits down in the middle of a blocking drill because, as he explains to Eduardo, “This is boring.”

“Right,” Eduardo says, smiling hard. “It can seem intimidating on the first day, but—”

“I didn’t say intimidating, I said boring,” Mark says, pulling up clumps of grass and flicking them absentmindedly. Eduardo should tell him off—he opens his mouth to tell him off, gently but firmly, but Mark keeps talking, squinting up at him again. “Is this the only activity you run here?”

“Uh, no,” Eduardo says, caught off guard. “Um, I run all kinds, but soccer’s always been my favorite, so—”

“It’s boring,” Mark says, very firmly, as if daring Eduardo to argue with him. “Also, I think I got another mosquito bite.”

He points to his leg, which is, indeed, swelling with another red bite. Eduardo had been trying so intently not to stare, appalled with his apparent desire to stare, that now the sight strikes him with a ridiculous guilt. He swallows hard. “Oh, God, I can take you to see Nurse Ritter again, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be stupid, I’ll just use the cream she gave me,” Mark says, and now Eduardo is—well, he is picturing Mark applying the cream, and the image makes him immediately want to run as fast and hard as he can, because, really, there is something wrong with him. “But it’s totally your fault. You and your boring sport.”

“I’m really sorry, Mark,” Eduardo says. “Can you walk? Do you need me to help you—”

Mark lets out a huge, frustrated huff and stands up, wiping his grass-stained palms on his t-shirt and then throwing them up in the air. “God, it’s like messing with a baby deer—I’m going to go kick soccer balls at Dustin.”

“Don’t do that,” Eduardo tells him, but it comes out weak and kind of flustered, and Mark just rolls his eyes and keeps walking off.

Turns out, Mark is good at shooting; he nails Dustin with a bunch of soccer balls while the younger kids cheer him on mindlessly, and Eduardo breaks it up by starting a game. He makes Mark play forward and tells him to imagine that the net is Dustin, and the only smile that manages to make it on Mark’s face that day comes from the one goal he scores.

Eduardo tries to pretend that that smile doesn’t make him feel dizzy, tries not to think about how it makes Mark’s whole face lit up and bright and—yeah, he tries not to think about that. He tells himself that he’s just proud, that he’s happy to make Mark happy, happy to get him involved, and that the smile is simply a symbol of that. He tells himself this even as he thinks of the smile as he’s going to bed, thinks of it like it means a job well done.

He tells himself that that’s why he’s desperate to make Mark smile again, thrilling when he shows up to soccer again the next day, and the next.

Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (2b/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-02-04 06:12 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (2b/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-02-11 04:38 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (2b/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-02-22 06:05 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (2b/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-02-27 01:05 am (UTC)(Expand)

FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (3a/?)

sajsakljdsjlk I AM SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY. ugh, i've been super busy + writing a whole bunch of other things (i think i've written like, three other fics since i last updated this, christ) but i promise i'm a little less overloaded now, so updates should come quicker! thanks so much for hanging in here, and enjoy! <333

Soccer turns into a regular thing for Mark, at least over the course of that week. He never stops complaining about it to Eduardo, though, as smug as he gets about the goals he keeps scoring, and the one game he manages to drag Dustin into (which, of course, results in trips to Nurse Ritter’s cabin again for all three of them, somehow).

Eduardo is happy, of course, that Mark is participating. He’s happy that Mark is willing to learn to play properly, that he’s always seeking extra instruction from Eduardo on form and technique. Dustin won’t seem to stop snickering about this, and Eduardo hopes he’s not giving Mark a hard time when they’re alone. Mark doesn’t seem the type to take teasing well.

He learns that Mark’s fair posture is a result of fencing lessons, and he only straightens Mark’s shoulders once when he’s showing him how to lean into a pass. Even so, the touch of Eduardo’s palms against the sharp jut of Mark’s bony shoulders feels electric, and he’s sure he’s imagining this, but Mark’s might actually be leaning back into him.

“Um, that’s wrong,” Eduardo says, jerking away.

“Sorry,” Mark says, not sounding very sorry at all. On the sidelines, Dustin is clearly laughing at them, and now Eduardo can recognize that he’s laughing at the both of them. Eduardo wonders if he can blame his blushing red face on sudden sunburn, and looks balefully up at the once again cloudy gray sky.

The next day, as the activity ends and the campers start off for dinner, Eduardo calls Mark over and says, “You know, there are other activities.”

Mark looks at him blankly. “Um, yeah, I keep telling you that. Soccer is boring.”

“And there are other counselors,” Eduardo continues, as firm as he can. He doesn’t miss the way Mark’s face falls slightly, though, even as it’s covered up quickly. He also doesn’t miss the way his own stomach twists at the sight, the way he immediately wants to backtrack and draw Mark into a verbal contract to always, always come to soccer, or whatever activity Eduardo ever runs.

“Fine,” Mark says shortly, and though Eduardo does open his mouth to soften it a little, or maybe even to take it back, Mark is jogging off before he can get anything out. Eduardo watches him go, Dustin trailing after him with a frown, and tries to push aside how bereft he feels, how inexplicably unhappy.

Mark doesn’t come to soccer the next day, and Eduardo is not at all surprised. He’s also not surprised about how bummed he is about it, but he pushes that aside and forces himself to run the activity as normal.

FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (3b/?)

He gets to see Mark at dinner, at his usual spot with Dustin talking his ear off, and he doesn’t look any different, except for the fact that he stares openly at Eduardo, enough to make him blush into his sloppy Joe. When dessert comes around, Mark seems to nod to himself, then stands up with his pudding cup and spork and heads over to where Eduardo’s sitting with Chris and a handful of other counselors.

“Hi,” Eduardo says, bright and unsure. “How was your—”

“Here,” Mark says gruffly, and he tosses something onto Eduardo’s tray and then drops down into the seat across from him, nodding to Chris at his right. Eduardo looks at the folded, crumpled piece of paper and realizes that it’s in the shape of a small hat; he frowns at it and glances up at Mark. “I did origami with Tyler today, and it was somehow even more boring than soccer. Congratulations; you don’t run the most boring activity at this stupid camp.”

“Mark,” Chris sighs, as Mark peels open his pudding cup and starts carelessly digging in. “You’re not supposed to be sitting here, okay, this is the counselors’ table—”

“Oh come on, he can stay for a bit,” Eduardo says, kind of mesmerized and probably inordinately pleased with the little origami hat.

He is extremely regretful of this remark a few seconds later, though, when it becomes clear that Mark plans to fellate his spork until his pudding cup is depleted. “We’re supposed to do cups tomorrow,” Mark says, heedless of Eduardo’s imminent mental breakdown. “I don’t have high hopes, really, but at least I can do it indoors.”

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” Eduardo says a bit tonelessly, and he pointedly ignores the thrill that comes from the responding glare Mark gives him; there really is something wrong with him, he thinks, and he’s hopeful that the more he ignores it, the sooner it will go away.

For someone who claims to find origami more boring even than soccer, Mark certainly finds a lot to say about it, talking Eduardo’s ear off about different kinds of basic folds and possible techniques, getting more excited and animated as he talks about the field of mathematics devoted to origami. And Eduardo finds himself getting excited, too, losing track of time and dessert (though not, unfortunately, that awful pudding cup and spork, or the dot of chocolate at the corner of Mark’s lip) to engage in conversation about one of the most random topics he’s ever known. But he suspects, with no small amount of uneasiness, that it’s not the topic but the company that keeps him riveted, and this is almost as jarring a thought as when he looks up a while later and discovers that the dining hall is emptying and Chris is smirking at him disapprovingly from across the table.

“Oh,” Eduardo says, blinking a bit. “We should probably—”

“Fine,” Mark says, rolling his eyes and standing up. He still has that dot of chocolate at the corner of his lip, and Eduardo—he wants to do something about it, but for some reason can’t make himself say something about it, which would be the only appropriate course of action. There really, really is something wrong with him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Mark,” Eduardo says, and Chris actually snorts.

Edited at 2012-03-05 12:57 am (UTC)

FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (3c/?)

Eduardo wonders if Mark’s parting words mean that he’s going to start coming to soccer again, and finds he can’t protest too much at that idea, as much as he should be. But Mark doesn’t come to soccer, and likewise, Eduardo can barely ignore the disappointment he feels over that.

Mark does, however, sit with him at dinner again, completely ignoring the looks the other counselors give him, ranging from irritated to bemused. Eduardo starts to sweat, for some reason, his heart racing, half in thrill and half in anxiety, and he says, “What—” just as Mark throws another folded piece of origami at him.

“It’s a cup, I told you,” Mark says, opening up his carton of whole milk and making a face at it, before taking a drink. “I’m better at cups than hats, but it’s all really dumb.”

“Mark,” Eduardo says, looking at the cup, face going hot to think of the little hat he’d placed on his dresser the night before. “You really shouldn’t—”

“Are you going to drink your chocolate milk?”

“You can have it,” Eduardo says quickly, pushing it over. Even down the table, he can hear Chris muttering something derisive under his breath, and he bites down one his lip to keep a slightly hysterical laugh from bubbling out.

Mark rolls his eyes and pushes his own milk over, scooping up Eduardo’s. “We can trade. So, did you email your meteorology nerd friends about the Mura map fold?” Before Eduardo can answer in the affirmative, Mark continues quickly, his words sharp and slightly bitter. “It must be nice to have free and open access to the internet.”

Eduardo cringes, thinking of the camp restrictions on internet that most of the campers complain about yearly. Most kids get over it after a while, though, eventually preferring the outdoor activities to their small allocated appointments in the one tiny computer lab, but it makes sense to Eduardo that Mark wouldn’t let it go. Mark doesn’t seem like the type to let things go.

“Do you go online a lot?” Eduardo asks, trying for sympathetic and mostly ending up somewhere at overly interested and eager, probably. He flushes again but Mark doesn’t seem to notice; his eyes light up and Eduardo’s stomach flips, and Mark is talking, talking, talking, and there is definitely something wrong with Eduardo, because he never wants Mark to stop.

Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (3c/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-03-04 09:17 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (3c/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-03-05 10:53 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (3c/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-03-07 05:29 am (UTC)(Expand)

FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (4a/?)

whoa, check out that turnaround time! this is what happens when i'm not trying to write 10 fics at once; instead, i'm writing like, three! whee! thanks for all the wonderful feedback, and enjoy this! the next part is going to be a big one (something actually happens, oh my!) so look out for that soon. <3

There’s a point, over the next few days, where the denial starts to feel kind of ridiculous. There’s no denying the fact that Mark continues to sit with him every night at the counselors’ table, blithely ignoring the looks of the other counselors and even some of the camp administrators, plus Eduardo’s own weak and slightly despairing protests. There’s no denying that Mark keeps giving him little pieces of origami, steadily improving but still boyishly inept in a way that Eduardo can’t help but be charmed by. That’s probably why he keeps every piece.

At this point, Eduardo does not even need the camp director to call him into his office for a “chat” about the situation with Mark to know what’s starting to seem obvious: Mark has a crush on him. He’s no less obvious and open about it than Christy was, but he seems to be going about it in an entirely different way. It’s more direct, more brazen, more—Mark.

And the biggest difference is, of course, that Eduardo…doesn’t mind as much as he should. That’s the biggest problem, really. Though he tries very, very hard not to encourage Mark, he can’t help but want to talk to him all the time, to learn more about him, and to tell him about himself. Mark is fascinated by Eduardo’s life at Harvard, eager to hear about all of his classes (even as he usually dismisses Eduardo’s field of study as ‘tedious’ or, the classic ‘boring’), and it makes Eduardo feel good to tell him about it, to watch his eyes light up and know that he did that.

That definitely makes him a terrible person.

He is terrified that Director Peter Thiel knows all this, as Assistant Director Maurice ushers him into Peter’s office with an encouraging clap on the back. Peter does look at Eduardo with a strange sort of smile on his face, but he only asks if Mark is making Eduardo uncomfortable, and if he needs any outside intervention for the situation.

“I can handle it,” Eduardo says hastily, thinking of how embarrassed Mark would be if someone told him off for his crush on Eduardo. He’d probably never even speak to or look at Eduardo again, which in theory would work out well, but right now feels like the worst thing in the world.

Peter eyes him with that smile again, nodding a little. “I mean, we don’t want to crush the poor boy—he’s got a very unique disposition, but I’ve seen enough kids in this kind of situation that I know it can get tricky. You’re a great counselor, Eduardo, but—”

“I swear I can do this,” Eduardo tells him, putting some firmness into the words. “I mean, I’ll make it clear that, obviously things like this happen, but nothing can really happen—”

“Very articulate,” Peter says with twinkling eyes, and Eduardo tries not to blush. He breaks off, clenching his hands in some frustration, until Peter reaches out to pat lightly at his fist. “Don’t stress about it, Eduardo. You’re doing fine. Just try not to ever be alone with him, and let me know if you need any help.”

“Thanks, Peter,” Eduardo says gratefully, way more relieved than he actually should be.

FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (4b/?)

Not being alone with Mark seems like an easy enough task, and Eduardo is starting to feel comfortable that he can accomplish that, at the very least. Of course, that’s the same night that Mark shows up at Eduardo’s room after lights out for the first time, a hood pulled over his curls and a mischievous smile on his face.

Mark,” Eduardo hisses, looking furiously up and down the hallway of his cabin and then pulling Mark inside before his room before he can really think about it. He is too busy feeling grateful that senior counselors get single rooms to actually consider the implications of Mark in his room, alone, after he should be in bed. But then there’s Mark, looking curiously around Eduardo’s room, gaze falling on Eduardo’s dresser, which is, of course, covered with origami. This is exactly what Peter had warned him against, exactly what could put him in the worst situation possible. “Oh my God, what are you doing here? You should be in your cabin, it’s almost—”

“16 is a little old for a bedtime,” Mark says dryly, and Eduardo’s stomach turns over at the abrupt reminder of Mark’s age, like he needs to reminded that he’s been creeping on jailbait.

“That’s not what I meant. I meant that you should not be anywhere near my room! Come on, I’m going to walk you back and tell the night guard to watch your cabin door, this is totally inappropriate.”

“I don’t see what’s so inappropriate about it,” Mark says, casually flattening himself back against the door as Eduardo advances on it. He’s picking at his fingernails, head bowed and curls flat under his hood, but Eduardo recognizes the stiff, stubborn set of his shoulders, knows he’s not moving any time soon, if only out of sheer petulance. Eduardo swallows hard and wishes, for the umpteenth time, that he didn’t find this particular brand of bratty insolence so attractive; he definitely never had before. Mark looks up, probably sensing Eduardo’s discomfort, and his bright blue eyes are dark and mischievous when he speaks. “It’s not like we’re doing anything.”

He says the word doing like it’s something totally filthy, and it makes something hot stir in the pit of Eduardo’s stomach. No 16-year-old should be able to speak like that he thinks wildly, grasping for indignation, and he clears his throat and hastens to defend his position once more. “No, but you know what this looks like. And anyway, you’re breaking rules, and as a senior counselor, I have to—”

“I break rules all the time, and you’re never really bothered about it,” Mark says, waving dismissively in a way that makes Eduardo’s hands clench a bit at his sides, his teeth grit in frustration.

“Actually, I am, I tell you every night that you’re not supposed to sit at the counselor’s table, and you never listen.”

“If you really didn’t want me to sit with you, you’d make sure I didn’t.” Mark’s lips are quirked, eyes dancing. His young, baby-smooth face is completely at odds with his expression, and it’s going to drive Eduardo to ruin very quickly if he doesn’t do something soon.

“It doesn’t look right, Mark. People will think—”

“Who cares what people think?”

I care what people think!” Eduardo barks out a little louder than he’d intended.

Mark’s eyes widen, and he shifts a little against the door, but otherwise seems unmoved by Eduardo’s tone, which is infuriating. “I don’t think you do. I think you like sitting with me, and you like talking to me, because if you didn’t, you would make sure I couldn’t.” He bites his bottom lip and looks up at Eduardo through his eyelashes, and it’s sinful and awful and makes Eduardo hate himself. “You could make me do a lot of things.”

FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (4c/?)

“Get out,” Eduardo croaks shakily, and when Mark simply grins, he feels something snap in him, something harsh and needy and unable to be denied anymore. He surges forward and slams his hand against the door just by the side of Mark’s face, leaning in and speaking very clearly. “Leave, Mark, you can’t be here, and I don’t want you here.”

He is close enough to feel and hear Mark’s breathing change, to take in his ever-widening eyes and the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows nervously. For a second, Eduardo breathes harshly with him, not backing down, and then he remembers that he’s crowding a 16-year-old kid against a door, yelling at him, and acting even more inappropriately than Mark is. He jerks back and doesn’t miss the low whine Mark gives in response, the way his face stays open and so young, too young, but apparently not young enough to shut up Eduardo’s treacherous libido.

“Sorry,” Eduardo says quickly, starting to reach out and then jerking his hands back—touching is bad. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“You’re the only person with half a brain here, Wardo,” Mark says softly, looking at the floor. Eduardo’s heart gives a weird little skip at the nickname, and he ignores it stubbornly, because his raging libido is enough to deal with. “I didn’t want to come here, but my mom wanted me to meet people. I hate it here, I can’t do anything that I like and all the people are stupid, and the bugs are horrible and it’s always wet, but you’re—you’re not terrible. So—”

“I know, Mark,” Eduardo says gently, still a little shaky. “But you’re—you’re so young—”

“I’m not that young, I’m only four years younger than you,” Mark tells him, narrowing his eyes and lifting his chin. The gesture makes Eduardo have to bite down on a sudden smile, a pained smile, and he shakes his head as Mark continues insistently on. “Four years is nothing—if I were 22 and you were 26, no one would even care, so—”

“But you’re 16, so people do care,” Eduardo says, and he sighs a little. “Mark, please. Let me walk you back to your cabin, you should get some sleep—”

“I can walk myself back,” Mark says, pushing off from the door and frowning. “I’m not a little kid.”

“I know you’re not, but—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Mark tells him, back to being stubborn and insistent. He gives Eduardo a lingering look and then a small, sharp nod, then slips quietly out of Eduardo’s door, leaving him alone in his room.

Alone in his room with a semi, which is just so incredibly inappropriate, Eduardo is actually considering resigning and just getting it over with. At this point, it looks like there’s no way out of this, and it’s not really Mark’s fault; he’s right. If Eduardo really wanted him to back off, he would.

He just doesn’t want him to. And Eduardo thinks he’ll go insane a little slower if he stops lying to himself about that.

(no subject) - nowadventuring, 2012-03-11 09:48 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (4c/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-03-13 12:01 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (4c/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-03-13 11:26 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (4c/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-03-17 12:08 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (4c/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-03-21 01:59 am (UTC)(Expand)

FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (5a/?)

sorry for the delay again! I got super busy. I just wanted to get this started tonight, and I'll try to finish the update up before I go to sleep. enjoy! <3

Eduardo doesn’t know where they’re going to go from here. He doesn’t know what Mark’s going to do next, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to deal with whatever it is.

He hopes, however uselessly, that Mark might back off, might see something in his pleas from the night before. But that hope is predictably useless, and if anything, Mark amps up his pursuit: he shows up to soccer again.

The sun explodes out of the gray Florida clouds, and suddenly Nurse Ritter’s cabin is full of kids complaining of heat exhaustion and sunburn. Eduardo gets to watch Mark slather himself in sunblock, ask Eduardo to help him with the back of his neck (Eduardo squeakily insists uponDustin’s assistance instead, and ignores both of their knowing smirks) and grow sweaty and pink with exertion. It should not be unbearably attractive. It is unbearably attractive.

“What happened to origami?” Eduardo asks balefully at dinner, where Mark is attacking a plate of Salisbury steak and ignoring his peas, no matter how many times Eduardo reminds him to eat them.

Mark shrugs, narrowing his eyes at Eduardo’s pointed glare and finally scooping up, like, two peas on his spork. He eats them delicately, meeting Eduardo’s glare with a raised chin. Eduardo is inexplicably aroused; it’s really a huge problem.

“It got boring,” Mark says, which makes Eduardo roll his eyes. Mark really needs to learn a new insult for things; it just reminds Eduardo of how young he is. Mark seems to pick up on Eduardo’s thoughts and narrows his eyes again. “Don’t worry, I can still make you things, though.”

Mark,” Eduardo hisses, glancing around at the other counselors, like they don’t see Mark present Eduardo with new origami every night. Chris rolls his eyes a few seats down, probably at the both of them. Eduardo can’t hold it against him.

No matter what he says, he can’t shake Mark off again, and Mark keeps coming to soccer, bitching all the time about the sun but making stubbornly good goals constantly, grinning at Eduardo until he wants desperately to grin back. He controls himself, though, and tries his hardest not to encourage Mark, to avoid looking at him too much. This is hard when Mark’s hair is golden from the sun, his eyes light up with brightness and determination, his t-shirts sticking to the slim, small torso Eduardo wants desperately to put his hands on.

He tries shutting himself down, avoiding Mark’s eyes, answering him in short, monosyllables. His mood drops, and so does Mark’s, but he doesn’t stop coming to soccer, just seems more determined to be around Eduardo, to break him. Eduardo feels like he’s on the verge of breaking constantly, and one night he does—in his shower, one palm pressed against the cool, wet tiles to hold himself up, the other around his cock. He licks his lips and thinks about his mouth on Mark’s sweaty neck, inhaling his boy smell and holding him close, surrounding him completely. He comes faster than he ever has in his life, and he hates himself, a little bit.

The next day, Eduardo takes the coward’s way out and asks to be moved to a different activity. He can’t face Mark, and he can’t get him to go away, so he’ll have to. The only other option is leaving the camp, and that thought makes his stomach ache unpleasantly. He doesn’t want to leave (he doesn’t want to leave Mark).

Eduardo picks swimming because he’s fairly sure Mark won’t follow him to the beach. He already burns all the time, even with copious amounts of sunblock he uses (when he remembers), and he has ranted to Eduardo about his hatred of sand numerous times. Eduardo should be safe here, and he is for a day, even taking dinner in his cabin that night and praying that Mark doesn’t show up at his room again.

He doesn’t. He does, however, show up at the beach the next day, in basketball shorts and a t-shirt as a bathing suit, frowning at Eduardo. “You’re avoiding me,” Mark says, and beyond the careful annoyance, the feigned nonchalance, there is real hurt in his eyes. It makes Eduardo hurt, even while he’s panicking about dealing with a shirtless Mark for the rest of the day.

NOTE - oflights, 2012-03-26 02:50 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: NOTE - ohnvm, 2012-03-26 02:52 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: NOTE - (Anonymous), 2012-03-26 02:54 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (5b/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-03-26 04:36 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (5b/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-03-26 06:15 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (6b/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-03-31 05:45 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (6b/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-03-31 07:15 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (6b/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-03-31 02:12 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (7b/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-04-10 04:58 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (7b/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-04-10 09:36 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (7b/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-04-27 02:14 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (8c/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-04-28 02:59 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (8c/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-04-28 05:43 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (9b/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-05-03 03:25 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (9b/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-05-03 07:28 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (9b/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-05-04 09:57 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (9b/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-05-28 03:59 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (9b/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-06-22 01:25 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL 2: sharp shock to your soft side (9b/?) - (Anonymous), 2012-07-11 03:57 pm (UTC)(Expand)