Fill, Herc/Meg, 2/?
anonymous
August 4 2011, 05:12:25 UTC
Thanks for the kind comments! This is my first fill, so...
He finds her outside a club, struggling with a bouncer. She’s putting up an admirable fight, but the man has five inches and a good hundred pounds on her. He’s built like an ox, with coarse hair barely covering the bright tattoos on his arms. He manages to set her down on her feet, with some considerable effort, just as he reaches them.
She’s in the grasp of a terrible beast when he finds her, her willowy frame being crushed by the paws of the hideous centaur. She’s the epitome of damsel in distress, which is awfully convenient. Nothing screams hero quite like the rescue of a helpless, terribly beautiful maiden.
He doesn’t hesitate to jump into the fray. Idiots never do.
He doesn’t hesitate to jump into the fray. Heroes never do.
“I’m going to have to ask you to u-unhand her. If you don’t, I may be forced to...to get violent,” he stammers out. He prepares for protest, sticking his body out in the best imitation of a small animal making its body as big as possible in order to scare off a potential attacker. The bounces gives him the weary look of one who has had to deal with way too many high school girls with fake I.D’s and drunk frat boys who thrive on the instigation of general ruckuses for one night. “Fine. Cool. See, no hands. Just take her off of my hands, will ya buddy?”
The man retreats inside the smoky entrance of the club, shaking his head as he does.
He stutters his way around the assessment of the situation, and of her need to be rescued. She’s a fire cracker, a real independent gal, but she is also in imminent danger. But, she’s caught the eye of Greece’s greatest hero, and the pest is disposed of, with some innovate uses of the human cranium.
She stands there, adjusting her halter top and generally composing herself. Her eyes slide to him, as if seeing him for the first time. After a short observation, she is suitably unimpressed with her plucky saviour. “Is Wonderboy here for real?” she asks, seemingly to herself, though she makes no effort to hide it from Hercules. He catches a good glimpse of her. Her hair is tousled, greasy brown hairs falling out of a haphazardly put together ponytail. Magenta lip gloss does little to disguise the cracked nature of her wide, thin lips. She’s dangerously skinny, with a waist too tiny to be the product of a healthy and active life style. She’s beautiful.
He finds her outside a club, struggling with a bouncer. She’s putting up an admirable fight, but the man has five inches and a good hundred pounds on her. He’s built like an ox, with coarse hair barely covering the bright tattoos on his arms. He manages to set her down on her feet, with some considerable effort, just as he reaches them.
She’s in the grasp of a terrible beast when he finds her, her willowy frame being crushed by the paws of the hideous centaur. She’s the epitome of damsel in distress, which is awfully convenient. Nothing screams hero quite like the rescue of a helpless, terribly beautiful maiden.
He doesn’t hesitate to jump into the fray. Idiots never do.
He doesn’t hesitate to jump into the fray. Heroes never do.
“I’m going to have to ask you to u-unhand her. If you don’t, I may be forced to...to get violent,” he stammers out.
He prepares for protest, sticking his body out in the best imitation of a small animal making its body as big as possible in order to scare off a potential attacker. The bounces gives him the weary look of one who has had to deal with way too many high school girls with fake I.D’s and drunk frat boys who thrive on the instigation of general ruckuses for one night. “Fine. Cool. See, no hands. Just take her off of my hands, will ya buddy?”
The man retreats inside the smoky entrance of the club, shaking his head as he does.
He stutters his way around the assessment of the situation, and of her need to be rescued. She’s a fire cracker, a real independent gal, but she is also in imminent danger. But, she’s caught the eye of Greece’s greatest hero, and the pest is disposed of, with some innovate uses of the human cranium.
She stands there, adjusting her halter top and generally composing herself. Her eyes slide to him, as if seeing him for the first time. After a short observation, she is suitably unimpressed with her plucky saviour. “Is Wonderboy here for real?” she asks, seemingly to herself, though she makes no effort to hide it from Hercules.
He catches a good glimpse of her. Her hair is tousled, greasy brown hairs falling out of a haphazardly put together ponytail. Magenta lip gloss does little to disguise the cracked nature of her wide, thin lips. She’s dangerously skinny, with a waist too tiny to be the product of a healthy and active life style. She’s beautiful.
So very beautiful.
Reply
Leave a comment