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The Social Network: the kink meme!

It's Complicated: But sexy!

zuckonitkinkeme zuckonitkinkeme wrote in tsn_kinkmeme
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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)
♥ 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.






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 one, two or three over here again. the delicious is around for people to find prompts they may not have already seen.

[RPF] Andrew/Jesse

According to the DVD commentary, during the Facemash/Facebook coding scenes Jesse apparently typed the same song lyrics over and over, but... what if after the 20th, 30th, 40th take he started typing his thoughts? And by thoughts I obviously mean his ~feelings for Andrew. Things like, every time you lean against me I almost forget my lines, or i like your hair in the mornings, or i might be falling in love with you. And what if Andrew noticed?

[Fill-ish]: Confessions 1.

Jesse stretches his fingers across the keys as if practicing for an athletic event. He pops his knuckles and rolls his neck and settles deeply into his thoughts. This time, the song lyrics of previous shots have been worn thin. He can no longer keep his thoughts from the page. His frantic typing begins with the take.

There are so many things I could say to you, Andrew, like how I think you're the type of person who I would have fallen in love with as a kid because you would have been the one to listen to me. You would have been the one stop the horrible comments of our thoughtless classmates. You would have been popular enough to defend me without being teased by the others for doing so, and I would have wanted so badly to hold your hand for that, in an innocent, unintentional way, I just would have wanted to reach out and grab your fingers and stay locked there, with you, until the fear passed, until everything stopped being so big and black and dark, until I could finally hold my head in front of a group of people and not want to break. I would have followed you anywhere, watching your hand, waiting for the moment I could take it without embarrassing you. You would have kept me from those shattering years of youth where I lost myself as I looked for a space between social groups where I would not get beaten or abused or completely ignored.

And, when I see you as an adult, I want to hold your hand the same way a younger version of me would have wanted it, because you understand me in some way that I'm not sure anybody else does. Not many people know how to listen the way you do. I might stutter and stumble and curse at myself because of it, but you don't nod your head with a vacant smile and wait for me to find my way through my brambles of thoughts. You actually sit and listen to me like even the silences and the pauses are worthwhile. I don't know people like that, Andrew. I know people that try but fail. And I know people with the best of intentions, but you seem to find my silences and gaps just as meaningful. You see into those breaths. In the space between what I mean to say and what I manage to say... you've wedged yourself there, and now every time I take a breath, every time I move my chest, I want you to listen, I feel you in my ribs.

I don't know people that are quite as handsome as you are, either. You're distracting. You're distracting even when I'm not close to you -- I think about the way your body is constructed in such a linear, angular way, and yet you're full of smooth curves, and how I'd love to feel the cotton of your shirts and the cotton of your skin and I want to document the topographic qualities of your knees and the space behind your ears and the moment above your ass where your skin dimples in two smooth depressions. I want to touch you until I don't know the difference between us. I want to fuck you until I can't imagine another moment in time, until the orgasms and black sleep blend together and we wake up in the morning, mingled like yarn.

Re: [Fill-ish]: Confessions 1.

Christ, this is so beautifully well-written. I think you've brought tears to my eyes. Please, keep on writing this.

[Fill-ish]: Confessions 2.

I love the way your hair is tamed to be Eduardo, but how I know it's slightly more alive if you were to let it be. The way you end the day, sometimes, in our silent car rides, you sigh deeply into the seat and seem to connect completely with yourself once again, as if you're recalling Andrew back from the space you left him, and you gather him right there in a ball in your chest, and you smile, tired, over at me, and I want to take your hand because it's the only place in on this strange state that feels like it's completely sculpted for me. I haven't even held your hand in seriousness. You took mine to help you stand from sitting on the floor, but I remember, when you took my fingers with joking need for rescue and I couldn't think of anything other than how I wanted to stop the cogs of past and present, I wanted to exist inside your fingers, I wanted to be yours, and then you let go -- you had stood from your sitting position and no longer needed my assistance. I was abandoned and without your hands.

I cannot have you. Lust for your best friend is a burden, but even more so when you work with him, and he brushes his shoulder against your back and touches your lower spine with delicate, reassuring pressure. I cannot stand when you touch me because my senses fizzle for a moment and all I know are your fingers. I cannot have you, I cannot have you, I cannot have you, and I have to stop wishing. I love you and that is just impossible, out of reach, I love you and that makes me want to shut down, and so I will find my place and my escape inside of Mark where I will be incapable of those three words, where his stoney demeanor will make love impossible, and where the sentiment will be ground into powder. I will carry my love like abrasive sand, like the dangerous substance it is, and try my best to keep it bottled and preserved and forgotten, here, against my chest.


OMG! Thank you so much for filling my prompt! This is so heartbreaking! Poor, poor Jesse, all that angst! <3333 (Btw, it's so funny you were the one to fill this prompt, because I found your subway fic last night and loved it!)

Re: OP

So glad you liked both <3333

Re: [Fill-ish]: Confessions 2.

Oh my god...this is wonderful fixedfoot, really amazing. Your beautiful use of words and descriptive imagery, metaphors, similes and personifications illustrates Jesse's unreturned love so well... I just love this a whole bunch. I hope you never stop writing. You're really too good do that. Your writing says a lot without requiring a lot of length :D

Thank you.

Re: [Fill-ish]: Confessions 2.

Writing is here to stay, there is no doubt. ;) Thank you for your compliments and for reading, dear!

Re: [Fill-ish]: Confessions 2. - leladancer18, 2011-03-29 11:42 pm (UTC)(Expand)

Re: [Fill-ish]: Confessions 2.

The things this fill is doing to me... I just have to thank you for writing this so beautifully and real. Ugh my heart. It's so perfect it hurts.

Re: [RPF] Andrew/Jesse

Somebody should write Andrew's reaction to finding/reading a bit of this?

Re: [RPF] Andrew/Jesse

I'm really tempted to write this, but I'm probably going to fail at it.

Re: [RPF] Andrew/Jesse

Go for it!

Re: [RPF] Andrew/Jesse - leladancer18, 2011-03-29 09:39 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: [RPF] Andrew/Jesse - leladancer18, 2011-03-29 11:27 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: [RPF] Andrew/Jesse - fixedfoot, 2011-03-29 11:39 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: [RPF] Andrew/Jesse - leladancer18, 2011-03-30 12:39 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: [RPF] Andrew/Jesse - leladancer18, 2011-03-30 08:12 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: [RPF] Andrew/Jesse - fixedfoot, 2011-03-30 10:15 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: [RPF] Andrew/Jesse - leladancer18, 2011-03-31 03:55 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: [RPF] Andrew/Jesse - leladancer18, 2011-04-07 01:36 am (UTC)(Expand)

fill: we'll stop the clock together [1/3]

Note: Intended as a partner/companion-piece to fixedfoot's fill, but this piece is definitely inferior. You can view it as a separate piece, instead -- how Andrew would feel about having seen Jesse type these things.
Also: my first fic after a year. And yes, I realize that I'm answering a year-old prompt.

Shit, that looks good. That looks really good. is all I’m allowed to say, but you’re typing a hundred words a minute and I’m thinking a thousand letters and sentences and paragraphs of—

Oh, Jess.

And for this one moment, for the first time, I pull myself out of Eduardo’s headspace because Jess

I lost myself in your eyes, the first time I met you. I remembered the piercing blue, the earnestness, the honesty, the eagerness. I remember the nervousness, the way you said “nice to meet you,” the way you tried to smile and to this day, you thought of it as an awkward introduction when all I could think of was that it was a prelude of the things to come. I was excited, then. I’m still excited now, for so many things, but mostly this:

I’m excited to get to know you so much more, Jesse.

I remember the in-betweens the most. I remember you accompanying me outside whilst I smoke up, the way you would furrow your eyebrows and wrinkle your nose, asking me why I did what I did, and I told you that it was a habit to fill up the void, an empty distraction: a means to stop from losing myself in my thoughts.

And so you told me: okay. Then you told me about your cats, and your mum, and did you know I started smoking less and listening more? And I would use a smoke as an excuse to listen to you.

I am amazed by your intensity, by your cynicism and your innocence. I remember how you would wear Mark’s hoodies and assimilate, as though he were a second skin, and my Eduardo fell in love with your Mark, and that’s my excuse for most everything, really: my motivations behind my inflections, my reason behind my actions.

My hands linger, because Eduardo loves Mark. I stutter and bite my lips and gasp, because Eduardo loves Mark. My eyes look at yours longer than necessary, because Eduardo loves Mark.

If being Eduardo meant an excuse to touch you, then I wouldn’t mind being Eduardo for the rest of my life.

I remember those rides back home, a quiet respite from the jungle of this city. It was just the whirring of the engine, and us. Always just us. I would bring myself back from that dark, bitter, betrayed place, and you would always take my hand in yours, give my shoulder a little squeeze before you shift gears. I would lean against your shoulder for moments, and I can imagine doing this with you, always. You would smile at me before the lights turn green—a real smile, where your eyes shine and your cheeks dimple and I have never seen anything more angelic.

I cherish the dawns when we’re too exhausted to even sleep, where we discover truths between glasses of tequila, sobriety wafting through our drunken slurs. We’d share our insecurities, and our neuroticism, and you’d tell me your doubts, and I’d tell you mine. And you’d tell me, don’t be ridiculous, Andrew, you’re fine, and I wanted to say the same thing to you. No, you’re not fine, you’re better than fine, you’re


and even then, I would run out of adjectives to describe you exactly as you are.

fill: we'll stop the clock together [2/3]

I could listen to you forever. I am always in awe of your eloquence. Your words are brilliance concretized, your pauses and stops speaking more than millions and millions of words — like taking a long drag, except better — and your “oh”s and “um”s are like poetry flowing freely. I love it when you talk about your cats or history or musicals or plays and I imagine you speak as I breathe in your words, chasing your whispers, until we meet in the middle—a perfect culmination, as I let you explore me and I you, my hands trailing your skin, exploring every square inch, and oh, what I’ll have you do to me, Jess…

Do you see what I see?

I would memorize every dimple, every bone, every freckle, every mole. I would tug on your hair, and hold your face between my fingers, thanking whatever gods there are for you, right here. I would trail my fingers down your spine, and I imagine you leaving me breathless, every time. I imagine being carried in your arms, and us tangled together, until I end where you begin.

I would whisper of your brilliance, and I would take you higher, Jess.

Would you let me do that?

And I imagine myself listening to your words, your breaths, your gasps, your moans. I can hear you say mine, mine all over, and god, I would be yours, yours, yours.

And when we have released, I will caress you in reverence. I would trace my fingers down the ridges of your chest, my thumb exploring your ears and your lips, and whisper again, words upon words.

And when you have fallen asleep, I will listen to your heart beating quietly, thanking whatever gods there may be for giving me to you.

Re: fill: we'll stop the clock together [3/3]

And on the fortieth take:

I love you, it said, and no song quite sounds as visceral as this.

I cannot have you, it said, and how I wish I could stop and scream and tell you how untrue this was. I am yours, Jess, you are home to me, you already have my heart, I’d say. Just say the word, Jess, if I so deserve you.

Just say the word, and free yourself.

Say the word and I’ll be yours.

But until then, Jess—

I will wait.

I can wait.