Well, look what the hellhound dragged in...

deanwinchesterway:

demonmeg:

deanwinchesterway:

Dean gave her a smal nod. Followed by an epic eyeroll. 

“Hey my baby’s not a junkbin and she is not old. She’s a classic beauty!” he said and shot her a glare over his shoulder.

She snorted again. “Right, sure. Whatever.” Meg shrugged and leaned back again. “So let’s get started, yeah?”

Had she just snorted? Hey, no one messes with baby, no one!

“Yeah, we betted do that!” Dean snapped and focused on the work they had to do.

They are just going to work on their project for a while until the silence becomes unbearable.

She followed his lead and started sketching on some scrap paper. “Howsabout this?” she asked after a while, holding it up for him to see.

not-the-hunted:

demonmeg:

not-the-hunted:

demonmeg:

not-the-hunted:

Jac can see the disappointment in Meg’s eyes, and wants to move, leave the room, do something.  She closes her eyes, breathing in, remembering she’d been through worse, but this was something new.  Someone who wasn’t her father didn’t want her.

“I don’… I don’t know, probably.  Tom’s missing, Dad’s dead, everything he ever pissed off is after me,” she breathes in softly.

Jac’s blood runs cold when Meg relaxes her hand slightly.  Part of her wanted Meg to stab her, to just fucking end all of this. She wants to stop feeling, stop being a burden.  Jac can’t see anything behind the tears she’s trying to blink back.  When she opens her eyes, her vision is blurry.  She’s imagining blood, gallons of it, pouring it out of her the way it did when she was young.  All she knows is that she’s not able to keep going.  God, she’s just nineteen, been on her own.

“What would it accomplish? Enough. What do I want? Whatever you’ll offer.  A place to stay.  Someone to trust.  You decide what I get,” she says solemnly

Despite everything, Meg feels her heart soften just a tad. A small tad, mind you; not enough to act fully on it.

What she can act on, though, is a general piss-offiness towards hunters. ‘Cause just fuck scumbag hunters.

“Everything that your dad or brother ever pissed off is after you,” she clarifies, quirking an eyebrow. “Well then. I think it’s time to officially horrify whatever’s left of your father’s memory and have you work together with a demon.” Meg smirks. Aw, look. The chickadee’s crying, or almost. Oh well.

“…a temporary place to stay, I can offer, as long as you don’t mind a cramped apartment on the bad side of town. Somehow, though, I think you don’t have much of a choice.” She shrugged.

“Not Tommy.  He’s jus’ missing.  It’s not Tommy’s fault,” she can’t take the idea of people ever bad-mouthing her big brother.  It doesn’t matter that he’s not there or anywhere she knows of.  ”Tommy spent his entire life tryin’ t’ keep me safe.  You don’t get to blame him for this,” Jac sneers.

Jac still wants Meg’s approval, she’ll do anything for it at this point, and smiles fakely.  ”It’s Daddy’s fault.  But yeah, a lot of it’s after me.” She looks around and stands up slowly.  Looking at Meg, she thinks of the idea of staying with a demon.  It couldn’t be that bad.  She’d slept with the devil once.  This couldn’t be worse.

“You’re right, I don’ have a choice, so, ‘ll take your offer.  I c’n probably get work somewhere and help with food and stuff.  ’cause I don’ want you t’ feel obligated t’ keep me around,” she stopped talking and took a breath.  ”Is it stupid, I kind of wanted ‘ou to stab me?”

Meg holds up her hands in a defensive gesture. “Calm down, girly. I misheard you, is all, you never specified if it was your brother’s problems or your dad’s problems that were after you now, so I went the safe route and said both.” Oooh, boy. Maybe offering in the first place was a bad idea, this chick seems like a huge ball of angst and family issues.

She tilts her head to the side. “Do what you’d like, just don’t make a mess of the place,” she drawls before giving the other girl an odd look. “…No, not stupid. But I’d suggest getting some professional help for that, darlin’.”

“Ha, go to counseling, for all I’ve been through and seen?” she barks a bitter laugh.  ”I’ll be thrown in the loony bin faster than the time it takes to sign my name.  Being a little suicidal, it’s almost normal.  Compared to everything.  I can want to fucking die.”

She kneels on the ground cradling her head in her hands.  ”I didn’t mean to yell, swear, I jus’, Tommy’s been my rock since day one.  Taught me t’ walk, t’ shoot, t’ fight my Dad off.  I…” she swallows.  ”You’re right, I do have family issues, ‘ou see what some of them left, but it’s somethin’ I’ve always delt with.  ’m glad ‘ou’re helping me though.”

Jac looks back at Meg, blonde hair falling in front of her eyes.  ”If I ever asked, would ‘ou kill me?”

Meg looks distinctly uncomfortable. Humans and their problems; what do?! She tentatively moves forward a bit and lightly taps Jac’s head in what she thinks is probably a slightly comforting manner.

“Don’t thank me, sunshine. Just tryin’ to be a good Samaritan for the first time in my life, and I gotta start somewhere.”

At her question, Meg barely has to think a second. “Sure. Dunno why you’d ask me instead of offing yourself, but sure, if you asked nicely.” She smirks.

not-the-hunted:

demonmeg:

not-the-hunted:

demonmeg:

not-the-hunted:

“I didn’t lie to you.  I think it was magic, to be honest,” Jac can see Meg still doesn’t want her there.  ”I can’t fix anything, but I can show you that I was the kid you were talking to.”

Jac pulls away the clothes she’s covering up with to reveal the pentagram scar, along with things that look even worse.  ”Didn’t grow up real happy.  Don’ care really.  I c’n show you, if ‘ou want.”  She doesn’t know what else to say, except, “Stab me if it makes you feel better.”

“Magic?” Her eyes narrow more, if that’s even possible. “What, get on the receiving end of an annoyed witch?”

Meg raises an eyebrow appraisingly at the scars the blonde was displaying. Eh. She’s experienced- and inflicted- worse, though by human standards, she supposes the cuts must have hurt like all hell.

“And what would stabbing you accomplish?” she sighs, finally relaxing her hand a bit, though not a whole lot. “I’m not quite sure what you want from me now, though.”

Meg felt- annoyed? Ashamed? Probably a bit more of the latter. She’d shown a bit of humanity, for the first time in god knows how long, only for the young innocent kid before her to turn into a fully grown, capable person. Sigh.

Jac can see the disappointment in Meg’s eyes, and wants to move, leave the room, do something.  She closes her eyes, breathing in, remembering she’d been through worse, but this was something new.  Someone who wasn’t her father didn’t want her.

“I don’… I don’t know, probably.  Tom’s missing, Dad’s dead, everything he ever pissed off is after me,” she breathes in softly.

Jac’s blood runs cold when Meg relaxes her hand slightly.  Part of her wanted Meg to stab her, to just fucking end all of this. She wants to stop feeling, stop being a burden.  Jac can’t see anything behind the tears she’s trying to blink back.  When she opens her eyes, her vision is blurry.  She’s imagining blood, gallons of it, pouring it out of her the way it did when she was young.  All she knows is that she’s not able to keep going.  God, she’s just nineteen, been on her own.

“What would it accomplish? Enough. What do I want? Whatever you’ll offer.  A place to stay.  Someone to trust.  You decide what I get,” she says solemnly

Despite everything, Meg feels her heart soften just a tad. A small tad, mind you; not enough to act fully on it.

What she can act on, though, is a general piss-offiness towards hunters. ‘Cause just fuck scumbag hunters.

“Everything that your dad or brother ever pissed off is after you,” she clarifies, quirking an eyebrow. “Well then. I think it’s time to officially horrify whatever’s left of your father’s memory and have you work together with a demon.” Meg smirks. Aw, look. The chickadee’s crying, or almost. Oh well.

“…a temporary place to stay, I can offer, as long as you don’t mind a cramped apartment on the bad side of town. Somehow, though, I think you don’t have much of a choice.” She shrugged.

“Not Tommy.  He’s jus’ missing.  It’s not Tommy’s fault,” she can’t take the idea of people ever bad-mouthing her big brother.  It doesn’t matter that he’s not there or anywhere she knows of.  ”Tommy spent his entire life tryin’ t’ keep me safe.  You don’t get to blame him for this,” Jac sneers.

Jac still wants Meg’s approval, she’ll do anything for it at this point, and smiles fakely.  ”It’s Daddy’s fault.  But yeah, a lot of it’s after me.” She looks around and stands up slowly.  Looking at Meg, she thinks of the idea of staying with a demon.  It couldn’t be that bad.  She’d slept with the devil once.  This couldn’t be worse.

“You’re right, I don’ have a choice, so, ‘ll take your offer.  I c’n probably get work somewhere and help with food and stuff.  ’cause I don’ want you t’ feel obligated t’ keep me around,” she stopped talking and took a breath.  ”Is it stupid, I kind of wanted ‘ou to stab me?”

Meg holds up her hands in a defensive gesture. “Calm down, girly. I misheard you, is all, you never specified if it was your brother’s problems or your dad’s problems that were after you now, so I went the safe route and said both.” Oooh, boy. Maybe offering in the first place was a bad idea, this chick seems like a huge ball of angst and family issues.

She tilts her head to the side. “Do what you’d like, just don’t make a mess of the place,” she drawls before giving the other girl an odd look. “…No, not stupid. But I’d suggest getting some professional help for that, darlin’.”

deanwinchesterway:

demonmeg:

deanwinchesterway:

“I have cleared out a workbench for us at the garage I work, my boss said we can do anything we want as long as we keep quiet. I can give you a ride if you want, it’s like 20 minutes from here…” he said and scrolled down so that she could read through all of his notes.

Seriously, what a gentleman.

Meg shrugged. “Works for me. You still got that ratty old junkbin as a car, though?” She teased lightly as she skimmed through the notes.

Dean gave her a smal nod. Followed by an epic eyeroll. 

“Hey my baby’s not a junkbin and she is not old. She’s a classic beauty!” he said and shot her a glare over his shoulder.

She snorted again. “Right, sure. Whatever.” Meg shrugged and leaned back again. “So let’s get started, yeah?”

not-the-hunted:

demonmeg:

not-the-hunted:

“I didn’t lie to you.  I think it was magic, to be honest,” Jac can see Meg still doesn’t want her there.  ”I can’t fix anything, but I can show you that I was the kid you were talking to.”

Jac pulls away the clothes she’s covering up with to reveal the pentagram scar, along with things that look even worse.  ”Didn’t grow up real happy.  Don’ care really.  I c’n show you, if ‘ou want.”  She doesn’t know what else to say, except, “Stab me if it makes you feel better.”

“Magic?” Her eyes narrow more, if that’s even possible. “What, get on the receiving end of an annoyed witch?”

Meg raises an eyebrow appraisingly at the scars the blonde was displaying. Eh. She’s experienced- and inflicted- worse, though by human standards, she supposes the cuts must have hurt like all hell.

“And what would stabbing you accomplish?” she sighs, finally relaxing her hand a bit, though not a whole lot. “I’m not quite sure what you want from me now, though.”

Meg felt- annoyed? Ashamed? Probably a bit more of the latter. She’d shown a bit of humanity, for the first time in god knows how long, only for the young innocent kid before her to turn into a fully grown, capable person. Sigh.

Jac can see the disappointment in Meg’s eyes, and wants to move, leave the room, do something.  She closes her eyes, breathing in, remembering she’d been through worse, but this was something new.  Someone who wasn’t her father didn’t want her.

“I don’… I don’t know, probably.  Tom’s missing, Dad’s dead, everything he ever pissed off is after me,” she breathes in softly.

Jac’s blood runs cold when Meg relaxes her hand slightly.  Part of her wanted Meg to stab her, to just fucking end all of this. She wants to stop feeling, stop being a burden.  Jac can’t see anything behind the tears she’s trying to blink back.  When she opens her eyes, her vision is blurry.  She’s imagining blood, gallons of it, pouring it out of her the way it did when she was young.  All she knows is that she’s not able to keep going.  God, she’s just nineteen, been on her own.

“What would it accomplish? Enough. What do I want? Whatever you’ll offer.  A place to stay.  Someone to trust.  You decide what I get,” she says solemnly

Despite everything, Meg feels her heart soften just a tad. A small tad, mind you; not enough to act fully on it.

What she can act on, though, is a general piss-offiness towards hunters. ‘Cause just fuck scumbag hunters.

“Everything that your dad or brother ever pissed off is after you,” she clarifies, quirking an eyebrow. “Well then. I think it’s time to officially horrify whatever’s left of your father’s memory and have you work together with a demon.” Meg smirks. Aw, look. The chickadee’s crying, or almost. Oh well.

“…a temporary place to stay, I can offer, as long as you don’t mind a cramped apartment on the bad side of town. Somehow, though, I think you don’t have much of a choice.” She shrugged.

not-the-hunted:

demonmeg:

not-the-hunted:

demonmeg:

Meg shrugs. “It depends. As a general rule, yeah, they’re total di-” She was cut off when the cute little six year old in front of her exploded outward into a fully grown woman.

“Jesus christ-” She yelps, jumping back a few feet, her hand already slipped under her jacket and clenching the knife handle. 

“…”

“Okay, what the hell was that.”

Jac scrambles backwards, and watches Meg.  ”Put the fucking knife away, ‘m not armed!  I was a six year old for God’s sake! How am I s’pposed to hurt you?” she yells, pure adrenaline rushing through her veins. “Put the knife away and ‘ll talk, okay? We got a deal?”

Jac watches Meg with dark gaurded eyes.  She grabs the clothes she was wearing off the floor, and covers up.  She wants Meg to trust her, maybe it doesn’t make any sense to try and get the demon to trust her, but it’s what she wants.  

“Calm down and ‘ll talk.  Swear.”

Meg narrows her eyes and slowly stows the knife away again, being careful to keep it within easy reach.

“You were a six year old, yeah. But now? Not so much. How does that work, then?” She peers cautiously at the blonde. ”Listen, princess, I don’t take well to random mysterious happenstance, like your weird age-swappery. They don’t tend to lead to good things, y’know?”

“I didn’t lie to you.  I think it was magic, to be honest,” Jac can see Meg still doesn’t want her there.  ”I can’t fix anything, but I can show you that I was the kid you were talking to.”

Jac pulls away the clothes she’s covering up with to reveal the pentagram scar, along with things that look even worse.  ”Didn’t grow up real happy.  Don’ care really.  I c’n show you, if ‘ou want.”  She doesn’t know what else to say, except, “Stab me if it makes you feel better.”

“Magic?” Her eyes narrow more, if that’s even possible. “What, get on the receiving end of an annoyed witch?”

Meg raises an eyebrow appraisingly at the scars the blonde was displaying. Eh. She’s experienced- and inflicted- worse, though by human standards, she supposes the cuts must have hurt like all hell.

“And what would stabbing you accomplish?” she sighs, finally relaxing her hand a bit, though not a whole lot. “I’m not quite sure what you want from me now, though.”

Meg felt- annoyed? Ashamed? Probably a bit more of the latter. She’d shown a bit of humanity, for the first time in god knows how long, only for the young innocent kid before her to turn into a fully grown, capable person. Sigh.

iamthewhistler:

demonmeg:

iamthewhistler:

demonmeg:

iamthewhistler:

demonmeg:

‘Ello~ Who might you be, hmm?

Grinning softly, he stepped forward “I surprised you do not recognize me, though I suppose it has been many a year since I visited your… kind,” he said with disdain in his voice “I have sent many a soul to your ranks, I am The Whistler, but I suppose you would know me better, as Karma,”

She critically looked him up and down. “Can’t say I’ve met you personally,” she said, ignoring his disdainful undertone. Nothing new there. “The name’s definitely familiar, though. Karma.” Meg smirked. “Hoo, boy, have I got a long list of people for whom Karma has yet to bite in the ass. If you’d like, I’d be more than happy to supply a few names.”

‘I do not work with demons,” he said sharply, eyes watching her every move. I was the first, created before heaven, hell, God and Lucifer. My siblings and myself. Fate… Luck… Karma. The three driving forces in the universe. I am above petty squabbles,” he said, beginning to circle her. “You have some karma coming your way, do you not?”

Meg scowled. “Gee, I seem to get that a lot,” she said, not even trying to hide the sarcasm in her tone. “Don’t work with demons this, don’t work with demons that. I am very honestly getting tired of the second-class citizen crap everywhere I go. Let me guess, you’ll work with angels? Or even humans? Pah.”

She turned with him, not letting him out of her sight. “Maybe, but I’d like to think it’s the good kind. I’ve done what I can to help out recently, though oddly enough, no one seems to want it.” She shrugged and chuckled dryly. “I’ve done some bad shit. You of all people know that. But I’d like to think that I’ve seen the error of my ways, or something.”

“There, you are wrong Ms. Meg,” he said cooly. “I do not work with Angels, nor humans. I work alone. Angels have approached me before.. claimed I was doing God’s work without his permission. Then I had a word with him, and he came to the realization I existed before him. Something that worried him greatly. As for humans, they are squishy and break easily,” he took a step forward “And had I not signed a treaty with both God and Lucifer, I would bring Karma down upon you,” he spoke dangerously “But had I not signed the treaty, you and your winged enemies would get in my way far more often than I’d like,”

Meg stepped back as he stepped forward, attempting- somewhat vainly- to hide her alarm. It didn’t quite work; jesus christ, this man was pretty freaking scary looking. And if he was who he claimed he was, and not some loony, well…

“I- uh,” she stammered, eyes wide and hand casually stowed in her coat pocket- near her knife. “A…apologies on my part. I hope I didn’t offend, mister retribution.” She forced out a nervous chuckle.

theartfuldeceiver:

demonmeg:

Well, that’s a right shame.

Did some reading in our time apart…Sorry, but I have to know, did you really mother a horse? -She coughs a bit to cover up a snicker.-

[He rolls his eyes, frowning at her] Not in the sense that everyone thinks. People seemed to have misunderstood what happened when the original story was told.

Oh? Then enlighten me, trickyboy. -She props her chin up on her hand, eyes glinting miscellaneously.- You didn’t turn yourself into a lady horse and get it on with some stallion?

theartfuldeceiver:

demonmeg:

Me again~ I’m guessing your answer to “can I pretty please stab you and check if you’re a god” hasn’t changed? 

Not now, not ever. Get the idea out of your head.

Well, that’s a right shame.

Did some reading in our time apart…Sorry, but I have to know, did you really mother a horse? -She coughs a bit to cover up a snicker.-

theartfuldeceiver:

demonmeg:

Hey there~

[sighs] You again.

Me again~ I’m guessing your answer to “can I pretty please stab you and check if you’re a god” hasn’t changed? 

not-the-hunted:

demonmeg:

not-the-hunted:

demonmeg:

not-the-hunted:

Jackie giggles, everyone seems to like touching her hair when she’s this little.  ”You sure?  What if-” she stops.  ”You’re angry at something.  What?”

Meg shrugs, slightly moodily. “Nothing. I just don’t like scumbag hunters, is all, and your old man seems to fit that trope exactly.”

Jackie looks at Meg “Are all hunterses scumbags?” she asks before she feels a sharp pain.  Suddenly, she’s no longer six, she’s nineteen, and cold.  “‘ou still like me?  ’m Jac.”

Meg shrugs. “It depends. As a general rule, yeah, they’re total di-” She was cut off when the cute little six year old in front of her exploded outward into a fully grown woman.

“Jesus christ-” She yelps, jumping back a few feet, her hand already slipped under her jacket and clenching the knife handle. 

“…”

“Okay, what the hell was that.”

Jac scrambles backwards, and watches Meg.  ”Put the fucking knife away, ‘m not armed!  I was a six year old for God’s sake! How am I s’pposed to hurt you?” she yells, pure adrenaline rushing through her veins. “Put the knife away and ‘ll talk, okay? We got a deal?”

Jac watches Meg with dark gaurded eyes.  She grabs the clothes she was wearing off the floor, and covers up.  She wants Meg to trust her, maybe it doesn’t make any sense to try and get the demon to trust her, but it’s what she wants.  

“Calm down and ‘ll talk.  Swear.”

Meg narrows her eyes and slowly stows the knife away again, being careful to keep it within easy reach.

“You were a six year old, yeah. But now? Not so much. How does that work, then?” She peers cautiously at the blonde. ”Listen, princess, I don’t take well to random mysterious happenstance, like your weird age-swappery. They don’t tend to lead to good things, y’know?”

Hey there~

Hi~ The name’s Meg.

Can’t say I’ve missed you.

not-the-hunted:

demonmeg:

not-the-hunted:

Jackie giggles, everyone seems to like touching her hair when she’s this little.  ”You sure?  What if-” she stops.  ”You’re angry at something.  What?”

Meg shrugs, slightly moodily. “Nothing. I just don’t like scumbag hunters, is all, and your old man seems to fit that trope exactly.”

Jackie looks at Meg “Are all hunterses scumbags?” she asks before she feels a sharp pain.  Suddenly, she’s no longer six, she’s nineteen, and cold.  “‘ou still like me?  ’m Jac.”

Meg shrugs. “It depends. As a general rule, yeah, they’re total di-” She was cut off when the cute little six year old in front of her exploded outward into a fully grown woman.

“Jesus christ-” She yelps, jumping back a few feet, her hand already slipped under her jacket and clenching the knife handle. 

“…”

“Okay, what the hell was that.”

deathonsunday:

demonmeg:

That made her really surprised. “I- Uh,” she stuttered, not really sure how to respond. “Dunno, man. Wow. Never really got that response in the first five minutes of meeting them,” she joked. “Most of the time it’s an insult or a “get lost”, actually.”

Michael stared at her, the expression only changing slightly to perplexity, before he smiled.   “Maybe you needed it then,” He replied easily with a shrug.  ”Everyone needs someone to talk to.” 

“…All right,” Meg finally replied, surprising even herself. “Friends are tough. Talking-buddies I can deal with.” She smirked. “That works both ways, too.”

deanwinchesterway:

demonmeg:

deanwinchesterway:

Had she just called him stupid?

Dean rolled his eyes and dropped his head to his chest as he willed himself to count to ten. Who knew that she’d be just as annoying as she was during classes?

“Ok…Alright Meg. Sounds good. I was just saying, you’re more eloquent than me. Relax!” he said and pulled his laptop out from its case.

College girls. Why do they always have an attitude problem?

“So I have started working on the powerpoint presentation.Take a look. We can design the car together later, I have some drafts ready and we can make the model car, last. Are you free on Saturday evening?”

Meg smirked. Aw yeah. Her way or the highway.

“Fair enough. Saturday evening sounds fine to me, where’ll we be meeting?” she asked, scooting closer to Dean so she could look over his shoulder at the laptop.

“I have cleared out a workbench for us at the garage I work, my boss said we can do anything we want as long as we keep quiet. I can give you a ride if you want, it’s like 20 minutes from here…” he said and scrolled down so that she could read through all of his notes.

Seriously, what a gentleman.

Meg shrugged. “Works for me. You still got that ratty old junkbin as a car, though?” She teased lightly as she skimmed through the notes.

deanwinchesterway:

demonmeg:

deanwinchesterway:

Dean rolled his eyes and snorted. Why did she have to be such a smartass?

“Then you should probably work on your “sarcasm skills” genius!” he snapped and grabbed her binder.

Fuck my life. This couldn’t be happening!

“Don’t worry, I did my own research too. Just in case.” he said and smirked.

He then started going through her notes and papers. Ok. Not bad at all. She was quite smart, he could give her that.

“Good….” he finally said “So how about this? I am gonna do the designs of the car and all the practical stuff, because I am the guy and you, like the good and beautiful girl that you are, are going to work on the power point presentation. Is that ok with you?” he asked and rubbed the back of his neck a little nervously. 

They didnt really have much time to get this project done and that was a little worrying.

“We should better stop fighting and get to work.” Dean thought and tried to be a little nicer to her. She was a girl after all and he’s a gentleman.

Meg snorted. “My sarcasm skills are perfectly fine to those who aren’t too thick to get it.”

“And no, I’m not very okay with that,” she added, raising an eyebrow and giving him a challenging look. “I’m just as competent as you are, so like hell I’m just gonna sit around and make a powerpoint. I say we split the work fifty-fifty. And if you’re totally insistent on me not building a damn thing, you’d better at least let me design most of it.”

Pfft. Gentleman? Funny story.

Had she just called him stupid?

Dean rolled his eyes and dropped his head to his chest as he willed himself to count to ten. Who knew that she’d be just as annoying as she was during classes?

“Ok…Alright Meg. Sounds good. I was just saying, you’re more eloquent than me. Relax!” he said and pulled his laptop out from its case.

College girls. Why do they always have an attitude problem?

“So I have started working on the powerpoint presentation.Take a look. We can design the car together later, I have some drafts ready and we can make the model car, last. Are you free on Saturday evening?”

Meg smirked. Aw yeah. Her way or the highway.

“Fair enough. Saturday evening sounds fine to me, where’ll we be meeting?” she asked, scooting closer to Dean so she could look over his shoulder at the laptop.

ohmyfreakingod:

“You don’t trust me? Really?” He sighed. His caduceus appeared in his hands. “What can I do to make you believe that I’m a greek god… I don’t really know.” Small wings appeared on his shoes, lifting him to a few centimeters of the ground. “What can I do to make you believe?”

“All right, cool it, featherhead,” she muttered, raising an eyebrow critically. “Fine, you’re the Hermes, woop de do. So what, you send messages?”

ohmyfreakingod:

demonmeg:

ohmyfreakingod:

demonmeg:

ohmyfreakingod:

demonmeg:

Hey there~ Name’s Meg.

“Hello Meg. Name’s Hermes. Messenger of gods.”

“Oh, goody, another ‘god’? Pfft. Well, hullo, Hermes.”

“And you, you are a demon, right?”

“Good guess, munchkin. So are you a hunter, or what?”

“A hunter? No way. I’m a greek god, not a hunter. I have real work, not like them.”

“You don’t think hunting counts as a real job? …I’m liking you already.

See, that god thing again- forgive my skepticism, but it ‘aint every day you run into a god, you know?”