Lucy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
luciazephyr) wrote2007-10-13 09:04 pm
luciazephyr) wrote2007-10-13 09:04 pm
she is the boxer, she knows when and where to strike
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fiercelydreamed, bouncing back spectacularly from being plagarized, has issued following challenge:1. Pick a favorite scene from one of your own stories. (Please, please, your own stories. I'm not encouraging actual plagiarism here.)
2. Pick a fandom (the more it makes you want to spork your eyeballs out, the better), "recast" your story for that fandom, and use find/replace to change the character names in the story. (Not up for the effort of fixing pronouns and physical descriptions? Why bother?)
3. Post your retrofitted story snippet, or a link to it, in the comments here.
Without further ado, Four
It was the weekend and Edwards was finally back in DC for the last roundtable lunch of the week. Hillary was, of course, paying.
"Twenty-seven million dollars, Hill," Barack said, shaking his head. "You bet your ass you're paying."
"It's only a mill a month. You jokers make more." Hillary sighed and checked her purse to see how much cash she had on her. "I didn't think my earnings were leaked yet."
Dennis beamed. "I saw it on Arianna's website and sent the link to Barack and John."
John shrugged. "I didn't see it though. I've been busy." He blinked at Hillary. "Did I congratulate you yet?"
"You did, don't worry," Hillary mumbled softly, tucking her wallet away in her purse again. "What does Arianna Huffington care how much I'm paid? And why does she insist on comparing my earnings to John's?"
"She likes him and you're still in the doghouse for taking a swipe at him," Barack pointed out.
"It was a slow debate and I knew he wouldn't care," Hillary replied. John raised his eyebrows and silently sipped his tea. Dennis glared at Hillary, still slightly bitter.
Barack rolled his eyes, a bit sick of this particular argument and said to John, "So, can we see them?"
Everyone looked at John, mostly in confusion. John set his drink down and crossed his arms on the table. "See what?"
Barack gestured vaguely. "The paint. Did it wash off?"
"What paint?" Hillary asked, leaning close to John, squinting at him, looking for make-up of some kind. John shoved her away.
"One of the colleges I was visiting gave a welcoming ceremony and put paint on Elizabeth and me," John explained in a snippy tone, fiddling with the straw of his drink.
"And nicknamed him 'sunshine boy'," Barack said with glee.
"I can't believe you read the blog," John groaned.
"When you're in my state, I do."
"He worries," Dennis cooed and swung an arm around Barack's shoulders.
"Join the club," Hillary said gruffly before turning to John. "Paint?"
John nodded. "On my arms and chest, yeah. It won't come off. Looks like someone attacked me."
"Bet the make-up crew loved that," Dennis said.
"Not so much, no," John agreed.
Barack gave a shy grin. "I still want to see."
John looked around and sagged in his seat. "We're in a crowded restaurant, guys."
Hillary hummed softly, leaning her elbows on the table. "Bathroom?"
Dennis slapped his hand on the table and got up. "Excellent idea, Mrs. Clinton. Come on." He grabbed John under the arm and pulled him up and out of his chair.
"Oh, you guys, this is not a good idea," John said in an exasperated tone. "And how is it going to look when four presidential rivals disappear into a bathroom together?"
"Shut up and move, sunshine," Barack said and helped Dennis push John along. Hillary got up and followed at a more discreet, leisurely pace, for all the good it did them.
They ducked into the men's room and Dennis checked for any other visitors. "We're good!" He nudged John in the shoulder. "Shirt off."
Hillary chuckled and leaned against the wall by the sinks. "He's not a stripper, Dennis."
"If only I were so lucky," Dennis replied cattily, fluttering his eyelashes at Hillary.
John shook his head and handed his coat to Barack. He began unbuttoning his shirt, starting at the cuffs and then from the neck down. "This is embarrassing."
"We know. You're blushing." Barack hung the coat on the edge of one of the stall doors.
John gave a long-suffering sigh and continued until his shirt was undone. That slid off his shoulders easily to be caught by Barack's ready hand and his black tee that had been hidden away came off just as quick to be folded over Barack's arm.
"Oooh," Dennis gushed, leaning in. "Very pretty."
It was a dark blue paint that had once been gritty and rough, homemade of tropical fruits and dust, but had been worn smooth over John's skin. There was a pattern, a mix of swirling curls surrounded by harsh, staccato dash marks. The designs were focused on John's upper arms and torso, fanning over his shoulders, collarbone, and the back of his neck. The whorls were so deep in his skin, it didn't seem like paint, but a strangely natural coloring.
Hillary reached out and followed a design on John's arm, starting from the shoulder and working down to twist into an infinity symbol on the inside of his elbow.
John shuddered. "Cold hands."
"Sorry," Hillary murmured distractedly, dropping her hand.
"Can you feel it?" Barack rubbed his fingers over one mark at John's shoulder blade, trying to blur it with no success.
"Not after the four showers I spent trying to get it off, no," John said sulkily. "I feel like a zoo animal."
"Stop whining, it's pretty awesome."
"You should get a tattoo on some of these," Dennis said, still not touching, but examining the marks at his collarbone for a trace of meaning. "Some are really intricate."
"No thanks. If I got a tattoo, Liz would disown me." John smiled brightly. He batted Barack's hand away. "Okay, stop. I've seen movies with scenes like this and it's freaking me out."
"And here am I without a camera," Hillary said. She stood up straight again. "Very nice, John."
"Thank you." He looked over his shoulder at Barack. "Can I have my shirt now?"
"Hm..." Barack grinned mischieviously, holding up the finely tailored dress shirt in his hands. He picked up the coat and tossed it to Dennis. "I'm gonna go with... no."
John should have seen it coming, but he hadn't, so he stood standing still and shocked when Dennis and Barack bolted out the door with his clothes. Hillary looked casually over his shoulder at the congressmen, following their dash until the door swung closed again. "That was horribly predictable," Hillary opined softly.
"Those ..." John almost swore, but resigned himself to scowling deeply. He crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly feeling cold. "Give me your jacket."
Hillary snorted. "Leave me out of this."
"All I want is your jacket!"
"If I ruin one of their plots, Dennis will be even bitchier to me." Hillary grinned and backed up to the door. "Sorry, Johnny. You're on your own." She vanished out the door surprisingly fast.
John stared at the swinging door in horror and shivered. "Oh, goddamnit."
When Hillary came back, John had been sitting on the sink, swinging his legs idly, for almost a half hour. A few patrons had come in over the course of that time and John had always just shaken his head and intoned miserably, "Don't ask."
But Hillary finally peeked in and smiled softly as she pushed through the swinging door. "Hello, John."
"Hello, bane of my existence," John shot back, not looking away from the lines in the wallpaper across from him. "How was lunch?"
"Sandwiches." Hillary grimaced and circled to face John. "You look no happier than you did when I left you."
"You left me, jackass," John replied.
"I came back!"
"Without my shirt, I notice!" John crossed his arms again.
Hillary's snickered. "Wouldn't want to ruin the view."
John swung his leg and kicked Hillary in the ankle.
Hillary yelped and clutched her leg. "The guys took it, alright?"
John groaned and thumped his head against the mirror behind him. "And you didn't stop them?"
"I had to make enough excuses to stay after them!" Hillary grumbled under her breath, something about 'ungrateful' and 'wronged girlfriend'. She shrugged off her jacket and tossed it to John. "It's ten degrees outside without wind chill. Put that on."
John looked at the pink coat in hands. "This is not going to be fun."
"I'm trying desperately not to be insulted," Hillary replied.
John jumped off from his perch and pulled on the borrowed jacket. It was still slightly warm and the silk lining clung strangely to his skin. Nevertheless, he buttoned it up and was very glad that Hillary had a physically larger build to him. The coat covered him, almost completely hiding his undressed state with the exception of his exposed neck, still blue.
John looked in the mirror and nodded approvingly. He turned to Hillary and grinned. "Thank you."
Hillary was obviously trying very hard not to smile. "Well, you know." She shrugged. "We real politicians have to stick together." She opened the door for John.
John nudged his shoulder into Hillary's as he passed. "That mean you'll start doing some real campaigning?"
OMG, WHY DID THAT ACTUALLY WORK OUT FAIRLY WELL!?
-Luce
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(Feel free. New folk are always welcome. And if you're looking for more fic, remember to email me.)
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But your decision of course.
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Thanks so much for plagiarizing! This was ... disturbingly awesome.
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Danke! Glad you liked!
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There is someting SO AWESOME about the mental image of Hilary in the bathroom with the boys.