#headcanon: Alastair

[joyfulmagic]

What’s a hobby they used to have that they miss? Can they cry on command? If so, what do they think about to make it happen? What’s their favorite [insert anything] that they’ve never recommended to anyone before?

(For any and all of your muses

@timeguardians // randomly specific headcanon meme -> Muse: Alastair

What’s a hobby they used to have that they miss? Alastair, in his childhood and early teens, practiced archery — across verses this applies. However, he stopped it in order to focus on his academic studies more. He hopes to return to archery once he is settled with a career/steady job.

Can they cry on command? If so, what do they think about to make it happen? Alastair’s tears are (almost) always genuine, but he can think about something that has pained him in the past to cry on command. He usually thinks about how worried he is about his step-sister, Madeline, who had to fake her own death post giving birth.

What is their favorite book that they’ve never recommended to anyone before? Alastair doesn’t have a specific favorite book, but rather adores the tales of both King Arthur and Robin Hood. He doesn’t speak of it much as he feels he could be labeled as overly idealistic, or even childish, but he loves those old tales. He even worked on translating the Canterbury Tales in an advanced course he took in secondary school.

[blqckthorne]

my favorite thing about the last hours is the secret, secondary, gay conflict that goes on in opposition to the regular, main conflict

[interestofthemonth]

I'm literally posting this minutes after having this revelation.

When a sinner sells their soul, are they also giving up their name?

We all saw the name Anthony written on Angel's contract in episode 6. Even though, from the audience's perspective thus far, no one ever calls him by that human name. He is only Angel Dust or Angel.

That one is pretty easy to piece together.

But I've recently been mulling over is the Husk vs. Husker distinction. I personal don't know how to tag this fucking gambling cat. I already use a million tags, and I don't need/want to list every variant of his furry ass so I use the name the show most commonly gives us. Husk. However, the pilot episode is where we get the difference. Alastor was the one to introduced him as Husker. And the response? "Don't you 'Husker' me!" He's familiar with the name at the very least.

I think it makes sense for a guy like Al to not particularly care about what the change is to. Instead, he merely shortens a name for ease. Husker. Husk.

Whereas someone like Val needs a name with appeal. Angel's name change feels deliberate. It's a sexy high, it's naughty fun, it's a cruel jab at how Anthony died. But Anthony is owned now, so the new person Val carves out is Angel Dust.

What if giving up your soul means giving up your identity?

Even if I'm wrong, it's still prime huskerdust connections.

[edwinspaynes]

Shoutout to 14-year-old Thomas Lightwood who would have simultaneously exploded into piles of confetti and melted into goo if he knew he would be married to Alastair Carstairs in just a few short years

[magiccadetsleader]

Alastor HC'S !!~

Alastor probably doesn't sleep, but when he does, he makes the weirdest noises known to man and it will keep everyone in the hotel awake

Showers with his clothes on

He cut his own hair and that's why it looks like that °`'(0∆0 )'`°

He probably has a tail (probably not but let me dream •`°(>` ~ <)°`•)

Makes the most zestiest gestures and he doesn't even notice

Bro doesn't know what ace means so Rosie and Charlie had to sit him down and explain the entirety of the LGBTQIA+ History and by the end of the discussion he would say " Sorry, I zoned out, what was that you were saying? "

He kicks children sometimes when no one is looking

Definitely uses Lucifer's head as a arm rest

When somebody rambles to him (or vent) he would instinctly ignore whatever they're saying

Talks to himself in the middle of the night??

He gotta fend the ladies with a stick!! (Reference)

On very VERY rare occasions, when he takes off his coat, his little tail would be twitching ever so slightly. When Angel tried to touch it, he ended up stuck In the wall.

Das all the HC'S I have rn, tell me if u want more !!!

[fairdale]

let me continue with my matthew x eugenia headcanon.

imagine the first time matthew eats dinner with them as eugenia's official partner.

imagine sophie trying to be all familiar and warm as always, gideon and matthew flustered and thomas, alastair and eugenia having the time of their lives seeing them panic.

i think it would be hilarious and now i need to read it

(also, alastair and thomas laugh a lot now, but eugenia can still remember how nervous they were the first time as well!! and no, she won't let them live it down!!)

[nonbinarychishiyatruther]

Call: Dad, I'm bisexual

Alastair: hi bisexual, I'm dad

Call: DAD, can you take this seriously?

Alastair: okay, okay, start over

Call: I'm bisexual

Alastair: me too

Call: I thought you were going to be serious

Alastair: I am! I'm bisexual too!

Call:

[shadowhuntertrash]

i feel like james and matthew would love super mario brothers. like they would get SO WORKED UP.

matthew would be screaming at james like JUMP YOU STUPID MF JUMP

and james would be like I'M TRYING THERE'S F*CKING LAVA MATTHEW WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME

christopher would be really good at the game and like get so far ahead that it's pushing james and matthew's characters into like fire and drops and both of them are like CHRISTOPHER SLOW THE HELL DOWN or CHRISTOPHER IF YOU DON'T SLOW THE F*CK DOWN WE'RE GOING TO SACRIFICE YOU FOR THE GREATER GOOD

thomas is the opposite

like none of them have ever seen someone play worse that thomas does

they're literally always telling him to bubble

especially in the castle levels and they're all screaming at him to bubble because when he gets stressed he just stops playing and watches as he dies

alastair and cordelia are always so appalled when they watch them but lucie is always down to join in

she gives as good as she gets too

[joyfulmagic]

What God Do You Worship?

The God of Mending

The first death was long. A punishment from the gods. Watch the crows pick you clean. But when their fingers stripped to bone, our God found them nimble enough to reach between the strands of time and unpick this acrid fate. They restrung themselves a warrior, but the stitches worked by weapons were clumsy things and the wounds they collected frayed to thread. This is the third life for our patchwork god, and they know what it means to start again. The darning deity does not know how to damn; they have patches aplenty though, for those who will try. Pray for repentance. Pray for peace. Pray that the God of Mending will sneak their hands between the strings and weave it all again-- but work in patches til they do.

[astriefer]

Thomas writes songs about Alastair in his head, we all just know it. They're sweet and revering, a potion made of love and trust.

Now with Cot out, let me add the bitter, more angsty version: Thomas writing songs about Kit.

After things settle down and they have time to process what's happened, Thomas is a trainwreck, he's gasping and crying at the funeral and he cannot pick up the shreds of his heart, left beyond repair and scattered on the ground to cut at him each time he breathes. His sister died. His world collapsed. He tried to build himself back, slowly, with cuts on his hands, just for the world to crush him under the sole of its fit.

So he joins patrol after patrol. This evil is different, but what does it matter? It came from the same source. So Thomas fights.

At some point Alastair confronts him the way he deals with the agony is destroying him, gnaws at him, and it must stop. He encourages him to find an alternative. He guides Thomas to bed very gently that night, telling him he loves him and that he must try, that there's always a different way.

He eventually settles on poetry.

Thomas's way of grief is coming up with songs and poems in his head about what he feels.

Thomas made them in his head for some time. He told no one and shared them with no one. He didn't think they were very good, or that he had a poetic mind as good as others. But he does it anyway if only to try and pour his pain into the world and set it free.

The sharp agony, the feel he is stumbling on his own without Kit, without him to make him laugh and smile, how much he misses him and how the world seems lacking without him by his side. He breaks down and pieces himself together every time, all the time. Because like a broken clock, time has flown differently since his cousin, the brother of his heart, has passed.

Alastair returns from patrol one day to find Thomas sitting on the couch of their flat, face in his hands, a single piece of paper with barely a sentence written on it. He can only rock Thomas, lull him to restless sleep full of bright lilac eyes full of laughter he used to see all the time.

On other nights, Thomas is drowning in pages of pages of words he wishes he could say. Regret, for all the times he listened half-heartedly. Anger, that Kit slipped so fast from life's delicate hands. He isn't mad at his Kit, he is furious at life, that let the kindest and brightest man he knows slip away. Wistfulness, for he wishes he could hear the laugh of his cousin - no, brother - one more time, like he used to do all the time.

He finally shows one to Alastair. And he has to look away because the crushing sadness that settles on his lover's face is just too much to bear.

Alastair composed melodies to some of Thomas's poems, each note stark and bare and full of meaning, with the thought of a hole in his and his loved ones' heart that would be empty forever.

They play one of them to the family on Kit's anniversary day. Cecily and Gabriel's sobs can be heard starting the second verse, Anna is hugging herself, and Thomas is in shreds. They all are. What can be said, now, that would make it better?

Nothing, Thomas knows, while the notes and the words he wrote are echoing around them, surrounding them. Nothing will change the fact the the brother of his heart is gone.

[theenemyod]

Tf do you mean Sarah and Alastair aren't both trans. They are and. you can't prove me wrong.

[edwinspaynes]

My headcanon is that Matthew's full name is Matthew Granville Fairchild. He hates his middle name because he thinks it is far from aesthetically pleasing, so he is horribly cagey about it and tells no one. It becomes a Shrouded Mystery.

One day, though, they're all together at Matthew's house. Charlotte gets annoyed with him for some reason and (not knowing that no one knows his middle name) is just jokingly like, "Honestly, Matthew Granville Fairchild. You will be the death of me."

Alastair calls him 'Granville" or "Matthew Granville" teasingly for an entire week.

[neeksxoxo]

Alastair teaching Thomas how to cook ("you MUST wash the rice, Thomas. No, it's not an option.") Thomas reciting poems out for Alastair ("Persian prince, really?" "Yes.") Alastair telling Thomas about his childhood and how his mom and Cordelia made it better ("I wish I could've helped." "There's nothing you could've done, at least you're here now <3") Thomas talking about how fragile he was and how he hated it ("And now look at you, u big hunk." "Your big hunk") Alastair teaching Thomas Persian ("Oh, so that's what azizam means?" "Maybe..") Thomas teaching Alastair Spanish ("So, for example, mi amor means...?" "Teach me how to say my spanish knight instead")

[arcxnumvitae]

🔞🔞 Eilidh

@strawberryxdreams || Send 🔞 for a NSFW headcanon.

Eilidh's fond of blowjobs at the most inopportune times that would freak out Alastair the most. The two of them are casually walking down the street talking about whatever? Suddenly Eilidh pushes him into an alleyway and sinks to her knees. They're hanging out with Celeste somewhere and she leaves the room to go grab something? There Eilidh is, suddenly between Alastair's legs with the most devilish grin he's ever seen in his life. She doesn't even get off on the thrill of possibly being caught, or even on semi-public/public sex. She just loves freaking out Alastair's Victorian sensibilities, especially when they start to give way to pleasure despite his best stuffy efforts.

Going off of that last one, anything that kind of peels away the repressed Victorian outer shell of his she loves doing. Because of that, whenever she can shoo his hands away from her she'd rather spend that entire night focusing on him. It can take a variety of forms but her straight up favorite one is pegging him and overstimulation. Something where he doesn't have to do any work. Plus...maybe she just wants to get him to relax a bit, you know? He seems so tightly wound all of the time.

[ichiigotsukii]

Senri knew for a very long time that he was interested in men, but it was meeting Alastair at a gala that gave him his ‘whoa...I LIKE men’ moment. A small crush that formed over gentle conversation about books and art. Occassionally classical music. It was funny and a little endearing how Alastair was trying to learn newer mortal technologies. 

Being very sensitive to the emotions of those around him as a pureblood gifted as an empath, it was the pain and loneliness that made Senri see him as more than just a gorgeous face.

Unfortunately for Senri though, Alastair is pretty inaccessible if you’re not a pushy and forceful person. He’s good at keeping walls up and Senri was way too sweet to try and knock some of them down and burst into his life.

and now there’s another gorgeous blonde?! And friendly and sweet too?! And eats his food?! ....Dammit. 

[ceafighter]

❤️🤭 ~mairekcufretsnom

need a overstim fic w alastor pleaseeeeee and maybe some bondage with his tentacles????

I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship

summary: alastor is your best friend, you think. but he doesn't want that. and you're okay with it. word count: 1.6k tags: smut, light bondage, tentacles, tentacle sex, overstimulation, monster form alastor, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, creampie, vaginal sex a/n: sorry for the wait!! i have been busy with school, as per the usual... but again!! slowly but surely!! the tortoise wins the race as they say!

You and Alastor were practically best friends. He never said it explicitly, but you knew that you and him had to be really close for him to be so at ease with you. 

Rosie had told you that not once had his smile dropped, even in private with her. You, however, witnessed it one time. It was an accident, sure, you had just looked up at the exact moment his smile dropped from a wide grin to a bit of a grimace. It happened so quickly you almost thought you were imagining things. 

Considering this, if anyone asked, you would confidently say that you and Alastor are best friends.

Alastor didn’t think the same, though, you came to realize when he loomed over your bed one night.

You were upset, to be honest, especially because you barely had time to yank your hands out of your underwear when you heard the telltale sign of him entering.

His shadow had spread out along the wall, staring down at you as you shot up, staring at Alastor, cheeks slightly red. The room was illuminated by two light sources; the constant dim lighting of Hell and all of the artificial bulbs that littered the streets, and Alastor’s glowing red eyes staring straight at you.

“Alastor?” You whispered, tilting your head in question of just why he was at your bed in the middle of the night. Angel had dragged you to a bunch of shopping stores for the entire day, rambling about how your wardrobe was especially lacking, so you were tired, and just wanted to let loose steam before finally sleeping.

In retrospect, you were glad you went along, considering you brought Charlie a new suit that she loved.

A sharp crackle of radio static forced your thoughts back on the Radio Demon’s form, and how he just continued to stare, before clearing his throat, the constant noise altering his voice rising. 

“Apologies, (Name).” He started slowly, gently sitting at the edge of your bed as you continued to silently look at him, your confusion heightening as you began to get apprehensive of what his goal was here. 

Despite the air thickening with static and apprehension, you couldn’t help the fact that you began to get wetter at the sight of Alastor. He cleared his throat, eyes narrowing at your form. 

“Why are you here?” You question softly, removing your covers from your body as you begin to perspire lightly. “You don’t normally come into the women’s bedrooms without permission. You said that it’s not of a gentleman’s nature to do so without courting her...”

He nods lightly, inclining his head towards you as he places his microphone to the side. “You’re correct,” Alastor’s eyes are on you again, glowing lightly as his grin sharpens. “And I am here particularly to court you. Although... it seems I may have interrupted a private matter.”

You flushed, and looked away. “Yeah, you have. Is that why you were acting a bit weird?”

Alastor huffed. “Weird?” His fluffy ears drew back against his head as he rolled his eyes, his grin still present. “I was not acting in an abnormal way.”

Feeling bold, you decide to wake the lion in the den with some teasing. “Oh? Am I supposed to believe that, Al? Obviously, something is up. You’re acting weird around me.” You huffed, crossing your arms as you glared up at him.

“Watch your mouth, dear. I will not be kind to you if you keep talking.”

You snort. “How are you going to shut me up, hm? Is the big, bad Radio Demon going to broadcast my screams? Going to make me beg for forgiveness? Are you going to try and take my soul? Huh?” You’re not sure why you’re so emboldened, and why you’re trying to get a rise out of the one sinner who can kill you in an instant, yet you feel thrilled when you see his brows furrow.

His antlers grew in size, and his eyes became radio dials as his large size towered your smaller frame. His grin was so wide, you felt your heart stop for a moment as his claws dug deep into the side of your pillow, right by your head. 

Alastor watched you yelp in fear, and he can almost smell the way your blood was pumping, the way you began to clam up. “Done?” He spoke slowly, as you nodded. “Good.”

Instead of shifting to his regular form, he just snapped his fingers, and you let out a high pitched squeal when your pajamas disappeared from your body. You were left stark naked, and Alastor only gave you a look, as if to punish you for your behavior. 

“Bad girls don’t get to orgasm once and be done with it.” A tentacle shot out from his back as his shadow self held your legs in order to stop any potential movement you may make. “You’ll take what I give you. And you have made me very upset, (Name).”

You whimpered, but he ignored it, instead pulling a chair up and sitting right next to the bed. His tentacle then went straight to your awaiting cunt, rubbing from the opening of your tight pussy to the tip of your clit. 

Twisting, you let out another squeaky noise, eyes wide and face flushed. Alastor peered at you, but you only let out a gasping ‘green’ as the tentacle plunged deep in you. You shifted again, trying to make the appendage go deeper into you.

“Needy? I barely touched you.” He smirked at your writhing form, the way your hair was splayed against the pillows. Your hips began to buck upwards, trying to get closer to the base of the tentacle. “Who were you thinking of?”

You sobbed out in pleasure, feeling your abdomen tighten as a second appendage began to rub at your clit at a fast pace. “W-what? What are you-” You interrupted yourself with another pleading moan exiting your mouth. 

Alastor rubbed your legs slowly, humming. “When you were masturbating.”

“Before you arrived?” You moaned out, an arm over your head as you hiccuped. “I- It’s embarrassing. This is embarrassing.” You told him, trying to keep your noises at bay. You felt your high cresting, but you didn’t want to cum so quickly. The tentacles kept their touches up, and you bit your lip hard, drawing blood.

He narrowed his eyes at you, the room filling with a cursed energy as he continued his ministrations, ever so slightly speeding up as you barreled to your release. 

You orgasmed around the tentacle inside you, whimpering as the other one rubbed your clit at the same quick pace, throwing you into the side of overstimulation. Crying out, you try to push it out of the way, however two more tentacles come out to pull your arms back. You writhed, your leg automatically jolting out in response to the constant stimulation on your cunt, and you shrieked as Alastor began to tease another tentacle against your already filled pussy.

“Now who?” He inquired once again, watching as you sobbed from the pleasure, tears rolling down your flushed cheeks. His erection pressed against his tight pants, but he just disregarded the pressure, focusing on the way your hair was tousled up, and the saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth.

After another tortuous moment of this, you caved, bucking your hips as your lips parted. “You! You, Alastor! I was thinking- I was-” You moaned roughly, and he smirked as you tried to gain your bearings. “Mm, I was rubbing my wet cunt at the mere thought of you!” 

Humming, Alastor grasped your hips, retracting his appendages that were holding your arms down. He leaned over you, in perfect position to thrust inside if he was bare.

“You look gorgeous.” Was all he breathed out, as you shrieked when the second tentacle at your cunt thrusted inside. You instantly came, whining pathetically for more, even as you were overstimulated. 

The other appendages retracted, and he unzipped his pants to thrust his hard dick inside you. You choked on a moan at the feeling of his cock, especially considering it was thick and long due to his monstrous form. “Al- Mm, Alastor!” You keened, wrapping your trembling legs around his hips. 

With every thrust, the bed shook tremendously, causing the headboard to bang against the wall. In your lust-filled mind, you couldn’t remember how there was others in this hotel, how everyone must have woken up due to the amount of noise you were making-

“No one will see you in such a state, darling.” Alastor groaned through the heavy static in his voice. You let out a quiet whimper as he abused your cunt with sloppy thrusts. He was getting close, and you just wished he’d fill your pussy, to the point where you were stuffed full. 

You were well aware of his questioning gaze at you, and you tried your best to fight through the fucked dumb haze, swallowing a few time as you tried to move your tongue to make sounds. “Breed me,” You stuttered out, looking up at Alastor. “Breed me until I’m full, Alastor, please.”

Alastor growled, and shoved his cock deep inside you, watching as you squirted all over him and the bed from the strength of your orgasm. Your pussy was squeezing him so tight, and he grunted as he pulled your hips flushed against his own, before cumming inside you.

You couldn’t even moan anymore, instead making a tired yet pleasured noise at the feel of Alastor’s thick, hot cum inside your swollen, puffy pussy.

You felt, rather than saw, Alastor slowly become his regular form. He shifted you gently, and you groaned at the way your legs ached. “Apologies, dear.” Alastor said, seeming apologetic as he kissed your sweaty forehead. “You must rest now. I believe you are properly sated?”

Smiling cheekily, you gave him a half-lidded lustful glance. “I may need some tending to, tomorrow.”

Alastor let out a small huff of amusement, smiling genuinely at you. “After I tell Charlie and the others that you’re perfectly fine.”