there was no credit

would seem selfish
if i was not already empty.
i rattle bones
and hear an orchestra.
living and dying
are often irrelevant.
the intrepid unknown,
i sleep
across train tracks
and feel very much alive.
—  poeticallyordinary, intrepid unknown.

anonymous asked:

well now you have me thinking bout my dog, who is easily 65 pounds, but insists that he is a lapdog. magnus with a giant demon dog on his lap, drinking a martini, enjoying a quiet evening in with man's most frightening friend.

look, welcome to my mind

hellhounds are supposed to look like doberman pinschers (best thing i’ve ever heard) and just imagine this massive black dog with glowing red eyes, tendrils of something magical curling off of it’s body, crawling on top of magnus, whining in the back of it’s throat and opening it’s mouth with glittering teeth to lap a soft wet tongue over his face.

magnus of course indulges this animal, laughing deep in his chest and rubbing between it’s ears, even though it really doesn’t know it’s own strength. magnus feeds it some raw meat and then continues drinking his martini.

an hour later alec walks in and sees this huge animal, terrifying and beautiful settled on magnus’s lap, whining every time magnus doesn’t pet it’s head enough and his eyes go wide. magnus glances up, giving alec a happy smile.

“ah, alexander. meet excalifur.” he says, his eyes shining. the hellhound perks up slightly, watching alec like a hawk as he approaches cautiously. alec holds his hand out after a second, a slow smile spilling across his face.

the dog leans forward, sniffing it experimentally and then opens it’s glittering mouth and leaves alec’s hand a mess of blood tinged drool.

“that’s a good boy.” magnus hums, leaning forward to press a few soft kisses to the black mass of it’s head.