Log in

No account? Create an account

The Social Network: the kink meme!

It's Complicated: But sexy!

zuckonitkinkeme zuckonitkinkeme wrote in tsn_kinkmeme
Previous Entry Share Next Entry
sorry about the delay in getting this up! please put all new prompts here.




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.
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.






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 or six over here again. the delicious is around for people to find prompts they may not have already seen. (prompts for parts one and two are now up for reposting.)



Eduardo/Mark Role Reversal AU thing

Eduardo finds out about the dilution and hires his own lawyers, through doing this he somehow screws Mark out of Facebook not the other way around. Without Mark the site fails after a while (sort of goes out of fashion, Myspace style) but still makes a lot of money before that. What would Mark do were Facebook taken from him? How would he cope?

nightcall 1/?


Mark doesn't understand. He doesn't.

He's never been good at the legal stuff. That's not his expertise.

That's not his forte.

That's not what he wanted to do for Facebook.

Facebook is his, and that's the solid fact. He had help, but Facebook is his. It's his idea. Every minute of his life for the last two years have been poured over the site with no holds barred.

He's Mark, and he's Facebook. That's the truth. That's the fact.

But —

Facebook is mine.

Harsh ragged breaths and fists clenched; Dustin at the corner of his eye, rushing towards the glass-encased conference room with a concerned look.

According to these documents, it's not.

Mark cannot think, cannot breathe, cannot pull any coherent word from his mind because everything is blurred and everything is spinning and he's still maybe shouting.

Point zero three percent.



Maybe it's Wa— No.

Maybe it's — No.

Maybe — No?

May — N

Someone is pulling him out the room and saying something to his ear and it's Dustin and 'calm down, Mark, please, calm down' but —

"Hello, Mark,"

It's Eduardo, opening the double doors with a swagger and smug grin and —

"you can't fuck with an Economics major in the business world, Mark."

I'm coming back for everything.

Mark has never lost so much control in his life before.

He thinks he may have shouted.

Point zero. Three. Percent.


Escorting him out of the company he built from dust with his his hands and his mind.

Someone is there.




He's ushering Mark in the car he just bought or someone else's car;

Mark doesn't understand. Mark doesn't un—

nightcall 2/?

I'm having a bad week? Sorry.

He codes.

He tries to.

There's nothing.

His mind is blank and hushed and quiet.

He's not himself.

He doesn't feel real.


It's a tentative statement, almost like a question. Mark's fingers twitches where they're hovering over the very laptop he started Facebook with. It still has the small f logo sketched on the left side of the touchpad.


He doesn't turn from his seat but tilts his head to the side to acknowledge Dustin. They're sharing the house; they didn't see the point of buying two houses apart from the fact that they can afford to. They didn't. Mark rarely manages to go home anyway.

There's a plate with poorly fried bacon where his laptop had been just seconds ago. How did it ge—

"Eat, Mark, it's been two days. I swear I won't pester you, just eat that."

Two days.

Has it been two days?



He can't code.

His mind is really quiet.

He can't code.

There's nothing.

The sofa dips to the side and that's the only reason why Mark noticed that Dustin is sitting next to him. Mark looks over and meets Dustin's eyes. They're concerned.

Distantly, Mark can feel the niggling worry that he should be concerned too but—

"Hey, come on, man, eat. I have to go to wor—somewhere to earn money"

He sees Dustin wince; sees how he looks apologetic.

What's there to be apologetic of?

There's no point.

He can't code.

He zones out.

"—Chris, you have to come here, he doesn't—"

The moments he spends awake are fragmented and out of order.

"—he hasn't said a thing, it's been a week—"

They don't make sense.

"—it's not yours, it's Mark's—"

Time jumps and his mind is quiet.

"—you know what, fuck you, I quit—"

"Let's hack Facebook together, Mark," Dustin says out of nowhere. Enthusiastic.

When did he get here?

"Come on, please?"

Dustin sounds weird. Off. Not like him.

"I'm so bored, come on please?"

He should be taking care of Facebook, why is he here?

Mark is here.

Mark is Facebook.



Is he still Facebook?

He still can't code.

There's still nothing.

nightcall 3/?

Sean Parker is there.

"Mark, bro, you have to get your company back from him, it's yours."

He sounds strangely genuine.

There's not a snitch of bullshit in his tone.

"Lawyer up, come on!"

But Mark still can't code and if they ask him to prove —

How can he prove that Facebook is his when he can't code?

What did he do for Facebook but code?

He's Mark.

He's Facebook.

He's code.

It's all he his.

But he still can't code.

And Facebook is no longer his.

He has nothing.


Mark feels a jolt. He blinks awake around an unfamiliar room.

On a bed.

When did he go to bed?

He was on the sofa.

Dustin was just handing him the plate with poorly fried bacon. They looked disgusting.


His mom. Why is his mom in—is he in New York? Why is he—

"Oh, honey."

He's not in New York.

It has been two weeks since Dustin's poorly fried bacon.

It wasn't yesterday.

Dustin called his mom over yesterday.

Dustin who is now standing defiantly behind his mother as if challenging Mark to get angry over the fact that it's probably his fault that Mark's mom is there.

"Let's go home, honey."

Two days.

Three days.

He's still in Palo Alto but he's leaving soon.

Chris is there on Dustin's sofa.

He doesn't hug Mark.

Dustin hugs Mark all the time.

Mark's doesn't like hugging but he's not opposed to them.

"Mark," Chris looks exhausted. "I'm so sorry." He flew here from the East Coast for that?

Distantly, Mark thinks about how they're flying to California now when he didn't ask them to but refused to fly to California before when he did asked them to.

Chris turns to where Sean and Dustin are sitting side by side (when did they get here? Why are they actually cooperating with the other?) "What do you need me to do?"

"Shit's going to hit the fan when the news go public and we don't want anyone knowing where Mark is. Not even Eduardo."

"Especially not Eduardo," Sean interjects before Dustin is even finished talking. "Can you do that?"

Where's he going?

"He — has he been like this?" Chris asks, sounding unnerved. "He hasn't said a word since—?"


He's surprised when he's suddenly at the airport feeling his feet move under him without his direct command. His mom is there. He doesn't remember going to the airport.

Didn't his mom already go home some days ago?

Shit, Mark can't even tell days apart now?

He looks down at the boarding pass he has no idea he's holding. Someone is ushering them away from people; away from immigration and through a small corridor then they're at the airport ramp then they're boarding the plane and —

His sisters are there.

They give him food and snuggle with him and close the tv when it flashes news.

They also hand him his laptop.

He still can't code.

But strangely enough, he doesn't mind.


It's morning.

It's every morning.

He goes.

"You should sue him,"

Mark doesn't know how Dustin can have a full conversation over the phone with someone who does not have words to say something back.

He wants to but he has nothing to say.

"Or I don't think you should actually. The site's in bad shape anyway. There's this cool shit I'm trying to make with a bunch of programmers though. Mark two-point-oh, remember him? The other Mark who almost died of alcohol poisoning in the bungalo? Yeah, and most of the coders from Faceb—yeah anyway, it's great Mark. I'm going to email some precompiled codes to you. Could you look them over for me? Check it over?"


Mark can't code.

Why isn't Dustin taking care of Facebook?

Why isn't he helping Facebook?

Who's working in Facebook?

What's —

Re: nightcall 3/? - reject36, 2011-10-05 02:34 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 3/? - (Anonymous), 2011-10-05 02:54 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 3/? - ohnvm, 2011-10-05 02:55 pm (UTC)(Expand)

nightcall 4/?

sorry for the ooc?

His mom asks him things.

He tries to answer under some intrinsic need to do what his parents want him to do but there's nothing.

Mark knows he's being observed though. Like he's of her patients.

He lets it go.

The other day, just before one of his sisters was quick enough to turn the TV off, he sees where in the world is Mark Zuckerberg? marqueeing under the screen.

"Mark, son, let's go fishing,"

In Dobbs Ferry?

During winter?

Mark looks up incredulously over the blank lcd of the laptop he's been staring at for what seems like the entire day.

He thinks he may have looked outwardly incredulous because his dad laughs at his face.

Mark is surprised to feel the corner of his own mouth tilt upwards.

There are loud noises then "MARKUS!!!" then arms are wrapped around him like tentacles.

It's Dustin and Chris and they're in the common room of Mark's childhood home. Chris is shaking his dad's hand.

"We're staying for winter, asshole."

They all cramp in Mark's room on Mark's bed. Mark is surprised they fit on it.

Also, that Chris actually indulged Dustin on his ridiculous suggestion on cuddling Mark. Mark tries to kick them off.

Chris yelps when Mark manages to elbow him. "Ow, Mark, that hurts! You are so bony!"

"Come on, Mark, it's so cold we need to share body heat"

"Ew, Dustin,"

There are more bickering, almost like what his sisters do on a daily basis only not. Because this is Chris and Dustin.

Mark's not thoroughly surprised when he deduces that the something that's churning in the vicinity of his chest is from the realisation that he missed them.

Mark still can't code.

Facebook is gone before the year ends.

nightcall 5/?

He hears a commotion followed by a distressed yell of "Dad!" from one of his sisters and Mark's out of his chair and running down the stairs in an instant.

Eduardo is by his front door and his nose is bleeding.

Mark never thought his dad could even be physical, let alone punch someone, but his mom and his sisters are holding him away from Eduardo and Eduardo's nose is bleeding.

"How dare you even think about stepping on my doorstep after what you've done to my son!"

They stop when they notice him standing by the foot of the stairs, though.

Mark leads Eduardo out the house and matches his breathing to the slow pace of his steps as Eduardo wordlessly follows him with tissues under his nose.


He tilts his head to the side.

"How have you been?"

It's a stupid question.

They walk aimlessly for a while and Bryan, the old man who sits behind the counter of where Mark buys pastries for his mom when his mom sends him out to, greets them as they walked pass. "Mark, my main man! Cupcakes for your mom?"

He shakes his head no but shoots Bryan a passable tilt of lips because it makes him feel like he's real.

Mark hasn't felt human in a while.

"Chris told me you weren't speaking," Eduardo murmurs half an hour after they stepped in the waterfront park. "I thought he was—I don't know what I thought. Fuck, Mark." Mark feels a hand circle around his wrist to stop him from walking. "I'm—I'm really sorry. Okay? I need — Facebook needs you."

There are shadows under Eduardo's eyes and his skin is flaky.

You took Facebook away, he wants to say but his brain is not sending the right signals to his tongue. You took everything.

"Please, you—Facebook needs your help."

Mark shrugs because it's not his problem anymore.

Distantly, he's afraid.

He can't code.

Facebook needs him but he's Facebook and Facebook is him.

There's nothing left.

Mark was walking home one morning when a reporter runs to his side and asks "what can you say about the recently alarming fall of Facebook's stocks?"

He doesn't let his sisters switch off the TV when news came on that night.

His own face stares back at him.

what can you say about the recently alarming fall of Facebook's stocks?

Mark thinks he actually didn't have to use words with the kind of expression his face contorted to.

They ambushed him much like he ambushed Eduardo.

Someone, he doesn't remember who, handed him some papers to sign when he was in the middle of a code push.

He signed himself away without knowing it.

It was the perfect revenge.

A perfect turnaround.

Edited at 2011-10-07 06:52 am (UTC)

nightcall 6/?

His mom tells him his bank account just acquired the net worth of a medium-sized country.

One day he wakes up and decides to look over the codes Dustin had been religiously stacking his inbox with since the day he asked Mark to check them. There's approximately 253 new messages and 240 of them are from Dustin.

It's a new email account; one that uses the domain of Dustin's new website. Only four people know it. Sean leaves him links of things he thinks Mark would find amusing. Chris asks how he's doing.

Mark doesn't reply but he opens one of Dustin's files on Emacs.

A format string doesn't match its argument.

His fingers trip over the keyboard, alien and unfamiliar to the texture of something that once had almost felt like they're a part of him.

He attaches a new file on a new message and sends it over.

Then he goes to the bathroom and heaves.

He has enough money to survive this lifetime without needing to work but when Mark gets asked to help at the IT department of his sisters' school, he goes.

It doesn't have anything to do with code but he fixes broken hardware with his own hands.

Breaking things then making them better.

It's almost the same.

Dustin gets more enthusiastic with sending things over; Mark knows he's deliberately leaving mistakes here and there but it gets more challenging to solve as time goes.

Then he gets an email with :DDDDDDDD on its body and Mark knows he just solved something Dustin and the others couldn't solve.

He doesn't throw up this time, thank fuck.

But his hands shake for a long time.

It's Sean who tells him to snap out of it.


Like he knows it's what Mark needs.

"Fucking talk, Mark. You can't be like this." He stayed stayed with Facebook, along with Chris — Dustin tells him Sean stayed because likes to make Eduardo's life difficult and that Chris stayed because they're friends.

I left because I knew how hard you worked, Dustin explained before.

"Zuck it up," Sean hisses to the phone. "Come on! You can't be like this! Did you know the fuckers thought it'd help to make the template modifiable?"

Mark opens Facebook for the first time that night.

He still has an administrative account and by the looks of it, it's probably because the incompetent Head didn't notice.

There are flashy ads everywhere.

The colours hurt his eyes and like Sean said, the template was made customizable.

This is his life in front of him.

The very core of what made him.

And it's filled with adverts that are flashing.

He makes subtle changes here and there starting with his account.

Then he hacks into Dustin's.

The list of last log-ins state that Dustin hasn't opened his page for a year — his quotations still say what Chris asked them during one drunken night freshman year when they were still new to each other, just roommates and barely even friends.

What would you do if you weren't afraid?

Mark thinks, move fast, and break things.

He hacks into Chris's account, modifies it with his new stylesheet, and waits.

Mark gets an email that says "!!!!!!!!!!!! fuck that looks good!!!!!!!"

Shit, Mark, that looks good. That looks really good.

And a text that says ":) can we use this?"

Mark knows Chris doesn't need to see him to know he's shrugging.

His phone rings in the middle of the night. He knows who it is without looking (it's a new number anyway).

"You don't have to say anything," Eduardo greets; voice harried and scratchy. "You don't. Just don't put the phone down. Please, listen to me. Please."

He listens.

"I don't know what to do, Mark. I don't — there's a lot. And I don't. Chris is here and Sean is but I — please, Mark. I'll give everything back. Just. Please. I need you here in California."

Mark almost laughs at the irony of the situation.

Edited at 2011-10-06 06:41 pm (UTC)

Re: nightcall 6/? - reject36, 2011-10-06 02:55 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 6/? - (Anonymous), 2011-10-06 06:00 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 6/? - (Anonymous), 2011-10-07 02:49 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 6/? - ms_bnda, 2011-10-07 03:17 am (UTC)(Expand)

nightcall 7/?

thanks for the comments omg ;_; also, apologies in advance if the formatting is a little wonky

There's a boy named Joe who works in the IT department with Mark. It's weird to call him boy because he's just a year younger than him but Mark feels a little too old sometimes.

He used to stammer around Mark like he is still great. Like he still owns Facebook and was not fucked out of it by the person he fucked out of it first.

It got better after a few weeks, though. And Mark thinks if he met Joe before this, he wouldn't have listened to him — would have dismissed him and thought nothing of it. But then Joe has a lot of good ideas. Absurd, yes. But good nonetheless. So Mark's really not sure.

He tells Mark about his mom as they methodically assemble a CPU; how she's sick and that he's working three jobs to keep them afloat. How sometimes Joe feels lucky just to be alive and just to have something to keep his mom's medication going and some food on the table for his sisters.

And Mark? It's been a while since he felt anything.

After months of not having any inkling of emotion, no one is as surprised as he is when he realizes that this niggling thing that he just felt from the pit of his stomach; this something that feels too foreign is what's being humbled feels like. That this is what it feels like to be humbled by someone.

Wardo, I… I want — I need you out here. It's moving faster than any of us ever imagined it would. It's moving fast.

He thinks about how the first contract could have affected Eduardo who had been the president of the Harvard Business Club then made a bad business decision with his own company while being its business head.

Was he kicked out the Phoenix?

Was he impeached as President?

It gives him pause.

But the thing is - for Eduardo, Facebook is just a business venture he was betrayed out of. It was vindictiveness that made him want to get it back.

But for Mark? Facebook is the culmination of every bad shit he got since he was a kid. For being different. For being an asshole. For being socially incompetent. It's everything; every fibre of his being, every concentration of his thought — it's his big Fuck You to everyone. It's his masterpiece. It was supposed to survive even after Mark dies. It was his entire self poured into a site that was supposed to be everything.

And for that to be taken away?

Eduardo didn't come out?


Eduardo phones him every day now; always at eight o' clock PM eastern like he's forcing them to have a routine; as if Eduardo's almost sure that Mark would be too wired in if he calls any later. But Mark doesn't wire in anymore — he can't. His brain is silent and blank and things only come in sporadic moments.

Sometimes he answers, and sometimes he just lets it ring until it trails off in silence.

I'm the guy who wants to help.

Mark emails Dustin a few badly written code he stumbles on to while combing through Facebook.

It doesn't take Dustin long to figure out what Mark's trying to get him to do.

"Ugh Maaark," he whines down the line after stating several reasons why he thinks this is a bad idea. "Are you sure about this?"


"Ugh fine. You owe me."


"A lot. Fine I'm doing it for you, just so you know! And you have to code for ASANA, I'm just saying! You owe it to me."

I need you

I'm here for you

When Mark wakes up the next day, it's to Chris's text — thanks for adding someone else on my to-babysit list, asshole. But Mark's sure Chris is happy.

It surprises him. The fact that he just knows Chris is happy through a text that could be in a different tone altogether.

I need my CFO

One night, Eduardo asks, "do you remember the algorithm?"

He sends a quick email to Eduardo containing the algorithm's converted variables. Ea for farm animals. Eb for marine animals.

Eduardo laughs and Mark feels his lips tug to the side.

Edited at 2011-10-07 06:52 pm (UTC)

Re: nightcall 7/? - skyearth85, 2011-10-07 06:59 pm (UTC)(Expand)

nightcall 8/?

The emails from Sean, Dustin, and Chris get more and more frequent as Facebook struggles to get back on its feet. Mark is always left curious as to why it's him they're asking permission from.

Do you think making something like a newsfeed on the homepage would be good?

Mark, you're good with this investor, right?

We're trying to make it seem like the inside of Facebook is not panicking but seriously, your children at sys ad are wailing like a bunch of toddlers, I think Dustin's the main culprit

Sometimes, Mark's fingers would hover over the keys and he'd want to respond with words. He knows how to type them or say them but he just… can't.

His dad catches him staring at the website.

He says nothing.

But he stretches out a hand and gives Mark's shoulder a squeeze.

There is a loud shout of "HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARK!" that greets him as he makes his way down the stoop of the school's entrance with Joe.

Dustin inevitably forgoes any sense of personal space as per usual and jumps on Mark so fast they both end up tumbling to the pavement.

Mark makes a strangled sound, kicks Dustin off, and lets Sean help him up.

"Hey, I'm Chris Hughes," Chris greets Joe, extending his hand. "That's Sean Parker and that crazy child is Dustin Moskovitz"

Joe looks like the time he got introduced to Mark; wide-eyed and in awe but he gives them all a nod and a handshake, and even offers Dustin a hand. "I'm Joe aaaand I'm about to go home"

"No wait come on man you can't leave, we're celebrating dear Mark's birthday and you're the only friend he voluntarily made!"

But Joe just shakes his head and nods apologetically at Mark's direction.

Joe needs to look after his mom.

Mark nods back and gives him a small salute.

"It's your birthday, Mark, make a wish!" Sean says as he places an ignited Zippo in front of Mark. They couldn't find candles that do not resemble the ones you place at graveyards. They try to make do.

What is Mark's wish?

He doesn't wish.

He doesn't do wishes.

When he wants something, he gets it.

When something he wants doesn't exist, he makes it.

He had it all.

He lost it all.

He doesn't want everything back.

He doesn't know what he wants anymore.

He's okay with this — with Dustin, Chris, and Sean; he's okay with where he is.

In the end, Mark just snorts and leans over to blow out the fire on the lighter with no wish in his mind.

There's a text that says "Happy birthday, Mark".

Only it's slightly less coherent.

More of "Hayhf briythdayamrk"

Chris corners him later when Dustin's passed out and Sean's out somewhere.

"What's your plan, Mark?"

Mark looks at the toothbrush in his hand and the stain on Chris's old shirt that Mark remembers is from the pizza slice Dustin launched at them during a food fight in Kirkland.

He wants to do something.

He's been wanting to do something but he doesn't know what it is.

"If — please don't avoid this. Eduardo will give everything back if you come back with us. I know this seems a little insensitive but Mark, you — we need you there. You're Facebook. It's not going to work without you. We don't want it to work without you."

Later, when Dustin, Chris, and Sean finally leaves, Mark picks up the phone when Eduardo's name flashes on his screen.

"Will you ever forgive me?"

His words are slurred and his voice lonely and Mark feels something heavy settling on his chest.

He remembers the times Eduardo sounded this way; bottles of vodka chasing away the echoes of his father's voice and distracting himself by sharing stories in a mix of languages Mark doesn't mind lowering the volume of the music in his headphones for.

"Mark," he sounds like he's on the edge. "Is there a chance that you will forgive me? It doesn't have to be now. But in the future - I'll wait, Mark. Just let me know if you will ever forgive me."


Re: nightcall 8/? - skyearth85, 2011-10-08 05:44 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 8/? - ohnvm, 2011-10-08 11:40 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 8/? - (Anonymous), 2011-10-08 10:08 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 8/? - ohnvm, 2011-10-08 11:39 pm (UTC)(Expand)

nightcall 9/?

woohoo fake sibling names because I can.

Mark has never been slow on anything. He learns and relearns quickly, picking up languages like sponge and jumping from one interest to the other. But, this? He takes his time on this one.

It takes him a while to relearn words and that's okay. Things are muddled and complicated (english, non-english, latin, non latin, hebrew, non hebrew) but he organises them in his mind and separates words that hurt, words that are okay to say, words that let people know how important they are.

He mumbles words in practice in the safety of his room.

Mom. Dad. Hanna. Patricia.

He says Yes. No. Hi.

And recites Dustin. Sean. Chris. Eduardo.

He whispers Thank you.

Then he practices Sorry.

When he finally tries it again, his mom drops the glass of water she's holding, his dad closes his eyes in relief, and his sisters jumps on him and won't let him go 'til Mark relents to 'say something again'.

He doesn't want to start with I, so he recites their names first and says "thanks" instead.

It seemed the appropriate way to start.

Eduardo still phones him. Still 8 o' clock of every evening like clockwork.

He tells Mark about Facebook. Their immediate plans and of how they're ending the ads; every sentence he says ends with a question mark like he's asking if he's doing the right thing.

A concession.

A recognition that maybe Mark still has the right to Facebook.

He tries to code for the site after.

Three days later, he makes a decision.

"Dad," he calls out, clearing his throat as he approaches the breakfast table. "Mom. I want— can I—"

They wait patiently and Mark lets himself breathe. Counts un, deux, trois and yi, er, san before "Can I — I want to. California."

His mom's face is frozen blank and she tries to say "it's too soon" but his dad leans forward until his hand is on Mark's shoulder.

"You're sure?"

Yes. No. Oui. Non. "Yes."

His dad gives him a tight smile then tilts his head to the side the way Mark knows is him silently communicating with Mark's mom. "Okay, son. Okay."

His dad sets his flight up; makes sure no one would be able to spot him here and in the opposite coast until Mark allows himself to be spotted.

The guy is his dad's patient, and he flashes Mark a blinding smile before leading him to the same place Mark and his mom walked through when Eduardo—when it happened.

Then he almost trips in haste as he runs back out the corridor until he can see his dad still watching the door. "Dad," he calls out. "Dad. Thank you."

If his dad is surprised, it doesn't show. He just nods, then Mark is on his way.

Dustin picks up the phone on the second call. He's probably wired in.

It's two in the afternoon on a monday and Mark is in front of a house he hasn't been to in two years. It's too late when he realizes it might not be his anymore.


Mark breathes out. "Dustin".

There's a strangled yelp and a few milliseconds of disbelieving silence before "Mark? Shit. Shit. Mark?"


"Fuck. Oh shit. Finally. Shit. Hi." There are loud clatters that follow and Mark's sure the stupid miniature dinosaur set Dustin tends to keep on his desk have just fallen off. "Mark? Hi!"


"Are you okay? Hang on, oh shit. You're fine? Is something wrong?"


"Okay." Someone mutters and Mark recognises it as Chris's voice. "Okay, Mark. Shit. You have no idea how—shit. I'm really happy wow. Fuck."

"I'm in California."


"I'm here."

A beat and a muffled conversation. "Okay, where? At the airport? I'll fetch you. Just wait for me."


Mark wants to say more but he can't. it's stupid but Mark doesn't remember what it's called. He does, but he doesn't know how to word it and—

"Okay? Um. Okay. Are you. Fuck. Are you, uh, are you at our house?"


Dustin breathes out.

"Okay. I'll be there in five."




And he thinks it's horrible not to want to see Chris, or Sean, or anyone else but Dustin gets it and just says "I won't. Just me."

Mark waits.

He tries to string a sentence in his mind.

The farthest he got is three words.

Edited at 2011-10-09 03:35 am (UTC)

Re: nightcall 9/? - ms_bnda, 2011-10-09 07:23 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 9/? - ohnvm, 2011-10-10 06:04 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 9/? - casey_sms, 2011-10-17 09:33 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 9/? - skyearth85, 2011-10-09 03:07 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 9/? - ohnvm, 2011-10-10 06:05 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 9/? - (Anonymous), 2011-10-10 01:32 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 9/? - (Anonymous), 2011-10-10 08:28 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 9/? - ohnvm, 2011-10-12 05:05 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 9/? - leladancer18, 2011-10-11 12:02 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 9/? - quickpixie, 2011-10-12 02:52 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 9/? - ohnvm, 2011-10-12 09:19 am (UTC)(Expand)

nightcall 10/?

sorry :(

Mark doesn't know what he's doing here.

He doesn't know what he's doing.

He doesn't know what point he's trying to make and whom he's trying to make it to.

"It's still yours,"

Mark cranes his neck from where he was staring creepily at the house and sees Dustin standing a few feet away; eyeing Mark warily like he's not sure how to handle this. Which is weird because usually by now, Dustin would be jumping him and he'd be pushing Dustin away.

But Dustin just continues to walk slowly until he's standing next to Mark. "I mean, I didn't sell it. But I don't use this place anymore. I didn't want to—"

Mark tilts his head to the side and smirks at Dustin's sentimentally.

"Shut up," Dustin mutters after seeing his face then he shoves Mark, yanks his backpack and throws it over his shoulder. "Let's go."

What do you mean get left behind?

Dustin doesn't crack until two days later when they went through seven consecutive rounds of films ranging from LotR to Star Wars to Charlie's Angels.

"I'm going to work tomorrow"


"You want to come with me?"


"Chris wants to see you"

Mark snorts because Chris doesn't just want to see him. Dustin's phone has been going off nonstop and they're all from Chris.

"Sean wants to see you too"

And maybe Mark thinks it's stupid of Dustin to look relieved every time he hears Mark say something but Mark answers nonetheless. It's the least he can do.


There are no more 8 in the evening phone calls.

They start hanging out in the house more often just like they did before. It's the small bungalo again except there are no sorority girls and no weed. (Well, maybe there's weed).

They try not to talk about how Chris lost his composure and jumped Mark after Mark greeted him with a "hi".

They also try not to talk about Eduardo. Because for some time, it was just Dustin and Sean. But now Chris is with them and sometimes Mark wonders where Eduardo is as Sean is lighting up the barbecue grill. Mark wonders what Eduardo's doing as Dustin cannonballs down the pool. And Mark wonders how Eduardo is as Chris checks his phone every five minutes.

The gnawing feeling in his chest gives Mark pause but he shrugs it off.

He's slightly tipsy and he's clutching his phone.

It's never a good sign.

Hi, he texts Wardo. When he passes out, his inbox is still empty.

Re: nightcall 10/? - skyearth85, 2011-10-12 12:13 pm (UTC)(Expand)

nightcall 11/?

Mark walks to Facebook a few days after.

The reason he bought the house in the first place was it's because it's five minutes away from the company. He didn't like the thought of not being able to rush through it doors immediately when something ever happens.

But the Facebook's not his anymore and he still doesn't know what he's doing here.

He's five steps from the pathway that leads to the entrance when his hands start shaking and then something is grasping his neck and he can't breathe and he can't think and somewhere in the back of his mind, beneath the white noise, and the buzz, and the harsh cacophony of his lungs clambering for air — you can't fuck with an Economics major in the business world, Mark.

"Sir? Are you o—Mr Zuckerberg?"

Angela, his brain supplies. Angela of security. She's here and she's still working here and thank whoever the fuck there is to thank that Eduardo didn't fire everyone who worked for him when he took over Mark's company. When he took everyth—

"Mr Zuckerberg, please. Ben, get over here! It's Mr Zuckerberg! Ben!"

When he comes to, the ceiling is gray and the wall is blue and he knows without turning his head that he's in the office he used to call his.

There's a hand on his shoulder and he knows who it belongs to as well. He knows by the weight and the small indentations that this very same hand is the hand that helped build him up only to drag him down again.

There's someone else there too and

"Facebook is his, he can visit whenever he wants. It's his property. I won't stop h—"

"Dustin, shut u—"

"I'm not saying anything about this company. I'm saying you should have made sure he doesn't—what if he stops talking agai—"

"Eduardo, shut u—"

"Well I'll make sure I won't trick him out of something he found—"

"Jesus Christ will you—"

They stop when they notice him sit up.



Eduardo won't meet his eyes and the hand on Mark's shoulder feels damning "You're okay?"


The graffiti walls have been painted over.

People are wearing uniforms.

Everything looks like it's been dimmed and Mark can't tell whether it's his brain or if it's really the place that felt like it died.

But Mark recognises most people and when he walks past with Dustin showing him around, they all flash him a smile that's part glee and part relief—as if they think they'll be okay now that Mark's here.

His assistant quit the day after she realised what happened.

"They stayed for Facebook, you know?" Dustin tells him sounding strangely mature and somber. Mark wonders if the Dustin who visits him at New York is just a Dustin that he puts up for Mark. "They stayed for Facebook".

It's Chris who finally asks.

"Why are you here, Mark?"

Mark shrugs, because what else is there to do?

Eduardo won't meet his eyes.

When Mark visits Facebook again the day after, he sits down on a random table at engineering and looks through the features they're planning to push.

Someone hands him a beer.

Mark barely remembers her.

She probably was new when it all happened.

To be fair, it's a big company and Mark can't be blamed if he forgets names.

"You back for good?"

Because he's never been much of someone who needed to be called sir. He's never been much of someone who needed any outlandish show of respect.

Mark shrugs.

"The site's going to die."

Mark knows that.

"I don't want it to."

Neither does Mark.

"You know we always thought you were the best boss?"


"Now we know just how true that is."

They end up coding something.

Then ended up with a video feature.

Then ended up with a random overnight Hackathon.

For the people who weren't around when Mark had been Facebook, this is their first.

For the people who stayed, it's almost like taking that first drag of cigarette after a long while of going without.

Mark's fingers fly on the keyboard and when he looks up it's Dustin in front of him, eyes fleeting from left to right; Chris is there too, slightly less harried.

And when Mark looks to the side, it's almost like a punch to the gut when he finds no one there.

Re: nightcall 11/? - ms_bnda, 2011-10-12 03:47 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 11/? - askmehow, 2011-10-12 06:24 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 11/? - skyearth85, 2011-10-13 09:19 am (UTC)(Expand)

nightcall 12/?

Ugh sorry. I'm not quite sure of this chapter as I've been incredibly lazy and ill with cold (my nose is fucking useless and my throat feels like sandpaper) lately and I've been reading other fandom fics so there's a possibility that they may have affected my mood whilst writing this. IDK I'M RAMBLING AHAHAH IDK I JUST WISH TO BREATHE THROUGH MY NOSTRILS AGAIN

Mark throws his headphones off a while later; the Hackathon is still raging on as if the people were starved of it but Mark's thirsty for water and he needs to take the medication his mom put him on.

He finds Eduardo sitting alone by the very room he found out about the dilution.

It was also the very room Mark found out that he doesn't own Facebook anymore.

He's angry. A little. But mostly he's trying to fight the sense of nothingness that's clawing him away from anything that might hurt him.

Self preservation. Self defense. Whatever his mom tries to call it.

A mind does what it can to protect itself.

But Mark is suddenly tired and he wants to -

The doors don't bang open but it's a close call.

They're glass and Mark wished he forced it enough for it to break to pieces.

Eduardo raises an eyebrow in greeting with a half-empty bottle of whiskey placed perilously on the edge of the wide expanse of the table.

"Cat got your tongue?" Eduardo muses out when Mark fails to say anything. It's too cruel; a touch too condescending but Mark can't find any words in his brain but hi.


"Hello, Mark"

Mark makes his way to a chair across Eduardo and sits down. They stare at each other in silence; Eduardo moving only to refill his glass of alcohol.

"They love you," Eduardo says, breaking the silence. It's almost like he's grasping for any topic to say - like he can't stand the silence anymore. He gestures out to the muted whoops of the people outside and Mark lets himself look at the huddle. "It's the first time I've seen them voluntarily stay after office hours"

Mark remembers the nights it felt like there's a silent competition running inside the walls of Facebook; who can stay in the longest - nights spent around people whose faces are illuminated by their LCDs, clacks of keyboards echoing around like a multitude of heartbeats. And then a cry of triumph from one — fuck yeah check this out — leads to beers being passed around and corners slowly getting occupied as sleep takes over.

It's not a question that Mark loves his employees too.

They talk after that.

Well, Eduardo does. And Mark just tilts his head to acknowledge that he's listening. It's like those 8PM calls only Mark can watch as Eduardo gestures animatedly; his face creasing with genuine smile when he hears Mark's snort at the anecdote he's been sharing.

It's hours later when Chris finds them. Eduardo's already half asleep with his face smushed on the arm resting on the table and Mark comfortable just to watch him across the table.

"Come on," Chris whispers, guiding Eduardo up and jerking his head at Mark direction. "Bunk time."

They go to the corner where Dustin is snoring. The other programmers sprawled in different angles not a few feet away but none of them occupying the sofa Dustin's passed out on because it was where Mark usually found himself post-Hackathon before.

Mark stands still for a moment.

If he lets himself forget, it could be like any other night where he's still CEO and he's still —

"Sleep now," Chris murmurs as he falls to the side after dumping Eduardo on one side of the sofa and — "rage later" and Mark makes a face at Chris's direction but lets himself lie down.

Re: nightcall 12/? - accrues, 2011-10-15 10:22 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 12/? - askmehow, 2011-10-17 04:39 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 12/? - (Anonymous), 2011-10-17 08:01 pm (UTC)(Expand)
nightcall (note) - ohnvm, 2011-10-18 05:50 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall (note) - skyearth85, 2011-10-18 08:54 am (UTC)(Expand)
nightcall 13/? - ohnvm, 2011-10-18 12:41 pm (UTC)(Expand)
nightcall 14/? - ohnvm, 2011-10-18 12:45 pm (UTC)(Expand)
nightcall 14.5/? - ohnvm, 2011-10-18 12:46 pm (UTC)(Expand)
nightcall 15/? - ohnvm, 2011-10-18 01:29 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 15/? - (Anonymous), 2011-10-18 08:53 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 15/? - (Anonymous), 2011-10-18 09:29 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 15/? - (Anonymous), 2011-10-18 10:37 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 15/? - skyearth85, 2011-10-23 06:47 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 15/? - (Anonymous), 2011-11-03 08:38 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 15/? - (Anonymous), 2011-11-04 02:52 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 15/? - (Anonymous), 2011-11-20 01:45 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 15/? - (Anonymous), 2011-12-05 12:17 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: nightcall 15/? - sleepy_mornings, 2011-12-28 06:43 am (UTC)(Expand)

Fill: "Something opens, I hear it cringe." Eduardo/Mark

"Something opens, I hear it cringe." Eduardo/Mark

Not quite what you asked for, I did Eduardo's POV....


"So you're not going to be the next Bill Gates."

It might have been the stunt with Case Equity.

"You won't get to marry some chick who is clearly out of your league if you weren't a fucking billionaire who still wears the same ugly ass cream sweater for twenty years."

It might have been his age.

"You aren't going to get to torture your kids with Zune or be all high and mighty with the curing AIDS and shit."

Dustin called him, to warn him. So did Chris.

"Mark, look at me. The question you have to ask yourself is…"

He sold it for a billion dollars and change.

"Are you going to be the next Paul Allen…"

He sold it to fucking Yahoo.

"…or are you going to be Steve Fucking Jobs?"

Mark finally looks up and into Sean's wild eyes.

"You are Mark Fucking Zuckerberg--"

Mark stares at Sean and then down at his hands.

"--and this is not the end."

Mark nods.

"Yeah," his voice hardly even cracked. "Yeah."


He may not be CEO, Bitch, of Facebook, not anymore, but he is still Mark Fucking Zuckerberg.