#alistair supernatural

[drfrankensteinvsthequeerborgs]

“But Daddy’s Little Girl, he broke.” lines that make me feral

[minsstargazing]

wtf is alistair from supernatural doin in gotham??

[j-nightingalesb1tch]

rip men who should've been bisexual you would've loved pride month

[littlebluejaydraws]

Movie Poster Series 1/?: On the Head of a Pin

ID: Four images, each comprised of combinations of the same digital drawings of characters taken from episode 4x16 of Supernatural. The background for each is Alistair strung up in a devil's trap. There is a tagline at the top reading "NO WILL * NO WRATH * NO GOD". At the bottom is the episode title "ON THE HEAD OF A PIN" and beneath that "WRITTEN BY BEN EDLUND" and "DIRECTED BY MIKE ROHL". End ID.

[majordemonblockparty]

au where sam goes along with the demon blood drinking 'cause he figures if anyone can grant clemency in hell, it oughta be the boy king of the fucking place.

cue full-on yellow-eyed juiced-up rightful prince of hell sam winchester who has spent the past four months picturing how he'll pour into the depths of hell with legions of demons and hellhounds at his beck and call to break his brother out of whatever implement of torture he's been strung up in... except that when he gets there, dean's unbound, unfettered, up on his own two feet with a knife in his hand, and doesn't even notice sam right away. he's dialed in, laser-focused on peeling back the skin of what might've once been a person with all the care of a shearer going after a sheep, everything from his face (oh, god, his face, his dear face; last time sam saw that face he was nailing pine boards over top of it after he'd closed the eyelids and wiped it free of blood and salt and kissed that cold, still mouth and--) to his bare feet spattered in abattoir-floor gore.

(in the end, sam's never entirely sure how he gets dean's attention -- whether he calls his name, or chokes on a sound trying to be words, or if something inside him deeper than a soul screams out for dean -- but there's a knife in dean's hand and blood on the blade when he turns to sam.)

dean just stares at him for a second, that still, cool, animal look he gets sometimes on a hunt; all predator, 'yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil for I am the meanest sonovabitich in the valley' kind'a look that makes the hair at sam's nape stand on end. then dean's face contracts all at once -- eyes narrow, lip curls, jaw tightens -- as he turns on his heel and flings his knife into the chest of the -- man? demon? demon, gotta be; nothing still human wears a face like that -- standing just out of arm's reach.

"thought we had an agreement," dean snaps, gravel-scrape low at the bottom of his register, like he's been sick but won't admit it for weeks on end. (or screaming. like he's been screaming, a lot, for weeks. or months, maybe. but maybe not; sam's been wrong before.) "no more projections, no more games. we agreed."

the demon puts his hand to the hilt of dean's knife, still buried in his chest cavity, and sam can't have that, can't have an armed demon within throwing distance of deandeandeandeandean, and all he has to do is think about it -- not even really think, not anything so complicated as holding the words or the image of it in his brain; just the intention behind the thought is enough to send the knife jerking out of the demon's grasp and slapping handle-first into sam's open palm.

the demon doesn't laugh, exactly, but his face stretches into what might be the memory of a grin; all teeth, no smile. "we did, and I have not thus far reneged on our agreement, boy. if I'm not mistaken, that's the genuine article; sam winchester, in the flesh. and what pretty flesh it is, too. goddamned succulent."

"hey!" dean barks, "knock it off." that habitual, spine-up, big brother voice that's been part of sam's life since before he can remember. "quit talking about his fucking... flesh." he says 'flesh' in a tone people usually reserve for words like 'fascism' and 'gangrene' and sam's chest aches for the dean-ness of it.

for a second, like a hologram or a magic-eye puzzle, sam sees dean. dean disarticulated, splayed out like a frog pinned to a dissection board, chest cut open, organs scooped out and toyed with and put back wrong. bones rent from their joints, eyes ripped from their sockets, fingers broken one knuckle at a time, nails torn from their beds in a bloody little pile. pieces cut off and waiting for their white waxed paper wrappers; bloody red pieces of flank, ribs, leg, shoulder.

"dean."

(he doesn't say his brother's name so much as he breathes it, horror and relief and delight and longing all shading his tone.)

the look on dean's face is like missing the bottom step of the staircase in the dark. he looks at sam like he hasn't seen him in a hundred years. he looks at sam like he saw him yesterday, the very last thing he saw, sam's face inches from his when his pupils blew out, the fine muscles inside his eye relaxing as his brain and heart and lungs all stopped working.

"sam?"

[aliavian]

😎

[greenteaandtattoos]

A really common villain/antagonist/definitely evil dude name I see in media is Alistair/Allister/Alistor/etc., which is a great name, I love it, I associate it with a smooth, mysterious, charismatic antagonist, which is my favorite villain trope, but I also love it because it means Man's Defender, which is hilarious for a villain/antagonist/definitely evil dude.

[twilightsagasworld]

Garrett x Reader part 5

Tags: @scuzmunkie

The crisp, wintry air nipped at (Y/n)'s cheeks as she and Garrett strolled through the dimly lit streets of Forks. Flurries of snow danced around them, a stark contrast to Garrett's icy, marble-like skin.

"So, England, huh?" (Y/n) mused, her fingers intertwined with Garrett's. "I have to admit, I didn't peg you as the type to settle down in one place."

Garrett chuckled, his crimson eyes flickering with a hint of nostalgia. "It's not so much about settling down as it is about... finding solace in the familiar," he explained. "England is where I just took to after I was “killed”, guess its the thirst for revenge ." His expression darkened slightly. "During the Civil War, you see. I was turned while fighting those Red Coats."

(Y/n) felt a shiver run down her spine, and she squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I can imagine that's not exactly a pleasant memory."

Garrett nodded, his gaze distant. "No, it's not. But England is where I've always found myself drawn back to, even if I can't quite stomach the English these days." He flashed her a wry smile. "Old habits die hard, I suppose."

As they continued their stroll, (Y/n) couldn't help but notice the way Garrett's attention seemed to drift, his eyes scanning the surrounding area with a subtle alertness.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, her brow furrowed in concern. Garrett's lips curved into a faint smile. "Oh, it's nothing to worry about, my dear," he assured her. "I'm just mindful of our proximity to the Cullen territory, that's all."

(Y/n) tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "The Cullens? I thought you said you tried to avoid them." "It's not that I'm scared of them," Garrett clarified, his tone thoughtful. "We've had our fair share of... disagreements over the years. But the truth is, I'm more concerned about drawing the attention of the Volturi."

"The Volturi?" (Y/n) echoed, her brow furrowing. "Who are they?"

Garrett's expression darkened. "They're the closest thing our kind has to a ruling body," he explained. "And they have a particular interest in one of the Cullens – the psychic, Alice. I'd rather not get caught up in that kind of drama, you understand?"

(Y/n) nodded, her gaze searching his face. "So, we're staying on the outskirts of Forks to avoid the Cullens and the Volturi?"

Garrett chuckled, his fingers caressing her cheek. "Precisely. I may have a complicated history with the English, but I'd rather not add the Volturi to my list of adversaries. Especially not with you by my side."

(Y/n) leaned into his touch, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Well, then, I trust your judgment, Garrett. As long as I'm with you, that's all that matters."

Garrett's eyes burned with a fierce intensity that made (Y/n)'s heart race. "And I'll always be here, protecting you," he murmured. "No matter what."

Garrett's grip on (Y/n)'s hand tightened slightly as they walked through the snow-dusted streets of Forks. The crisp, wintry air swirled around them, a stark contrast to the vampire's icy skin.

"You know, (Y/n)," Garrett began, his crimson eyes glinting with a hint of mischief, "I've been thinking about taking a little trip. Back to England.”

(Y/n) felt a surge of excitement at his words, but she couldn't help the hesitation that crept into her voice. "England, huh? I've always wanted to visit, but..." She trailed off, her gaze wandering.

Garrett's lips curved into a warm smile as he gently cupped her face in his hands. "Ah, my dear (Y/n), that's the beauty of it. This won't be a short trip – I'd love for you to come with me, for as long as you'd like."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened, a mix of excitement and uncertainty swirling within her. "You mean it? You really want me to go with you?"

"Of course," Garrett murmured, his thumb caressing her cheek. "I can't imagine exploring my old hunting grounds without you by my side. And who knows, maybe we'll even stumble upon a few new adventures along the way."

(Y/n) couldn't help the smile that spread across her face, her apprehension slowly dissipating. "Okay, Garrett. Let's do it. When do we leave?"

"How about in a week?" Garrett suggested, his fingers gently tracing the curve of her cheek. "I've been itching to get back, and I'd much rather have you with me."

(Y/n) nodded enthusiastically, her eyes shining with excitement. "A week from now it is, then. I can't wait!"

* * *

Weeks later, as (Y/n) and Garrett explored the bustling streets of London, their peaceful getaway took an unexpected turn.

The entrance door to the backpacker's lodge suddenly opened, and three figures stepped inside, their movements graceful and deliberate. (Y/n)'s breath caught in her throat as she recognized Garrett, flanked by two strangers – a man and a woman, both with the same striking golden eyes and pale, marble-like skin.

"Carlisle, Esme," Garrett greeted them, his tone polite but reserved. "I appreciate you meeting me here."

The woman, Esme, offered him a warm smile. "Of course, Garrett. We're always happy to see you."

(Y/n) watched, transfixed, as the trio made their way towards her, Garrett's gaze meeting hers with a reassuring nod.

"(Y/n)," he said, his voice soft, "there are some people I'd like you to meet. This is Carlisle and Esme Cullen – they're old friends of mine.”

Carlisle's gaze shifted from Garrett to (Y/n), his expression one of mild surprise. "Garrett, I must say, I didn't expect to see you with a human companion."

Garrett placed a protective hand on (Y/n)'s shoulder, offering Carlisle a slight nod. "Ah, yes. Carlisle, Esme, this is (Y/n), my... mate."

(Y/n) furrowed her brow, the unfamiliar term catching her off guard. "Your mate? What does that mean?"

Carlisle's expression softened, and he offered (Y/n) a reassuring smile. "In the vampire world, a mate is a lifelong companion, someone with whom a vampire forms an unbreakable bond." He glanced at Garrett, his tone turning more serious. "I must admit, I'm surprised to see you've taken a human as your mate, Garrett. That's quite... unconventional.”

Garrett's jaw tightened slightly, but his grip on (Y/n)'s shoulder remained gentle. "You should understand, given your circumstances… (Y/n) is special to me. And I intend to protect her, no matter what."

Esme stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Carlisle's arm. "We're not here to judge, Carlisle. We're simply glad to see Garrett has found someone he cares for so deeply."

Carlisle nodded, his gaze shifting back to (Y/n). "Of course, my dear. And I'm afraid the reason we've come to see Garrett is a rather serious one. The Volturi are gathering witnesses against my family, because of our... unique circumstances."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened, her heart racing. "The Volturi? What's happening?"

Garrett pulled (Y/n) closer, his crimson eyes filled with determination. "It's a long story, but the Volturi believe that Bella and Edward's daughter, is an immortal child. They're gathering witnesses to go against the Cullens… likewise Carlisle is doing the same, he’s asked me to be one of them."

(Y/n) looked up at Garrett, her own resolve hardening. "Whatever you need, I'm here to help."

Carlisle and Esme exchanged a relieved glance, and Carlisle reached out to gently squeeze (Y/n)'s hand. "Thank you, my dear. Your support means more than you know."

As the four of them sat down to discuss the impending confrontation with the Volturi, (Y/n) couldn't help but feel a mix of trepidation and determination. She may not fully understand the intricacies of the vampire world, but she knew that she would stand by Garrett's side, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

… 3 days later….

As (Y/n) and Garrett settled into her small house on the edge of town, the weight of the impending confrontation with the Volturi hung heavy in the air. Garrett could sense the underlying tension in his beloved's demeanor, and he pulled her into a tender embrace, his lips pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Don't worry, (Y/n)," he murmured, his crimson eyes filled with unwavering devotion. "I'll keep you safe, no matter what."

(Y/n) nodded, though a part of her couldn't help but feel a pang of nervousness. Garrett seemed to understand, and he tightened his hold on her, determined to provide the comfort and reassurance she needed.

They spent the evening in quiet contemplation, both lost in their own thoughts about the challenges that lay ahead. Garrett's mind raced with strategies and contingency plans, he couldn’t hide that he was semi excited for a fight again.

As the night wore on, (Y/n) eventually drifted off to sleep, her head resting on Garrett's shoulder. He watched over her with a mixture of adoration and protectiveness, his gaze never wavering.

In the silence of the cottage, Garrett made a silent vow – he would do whatever it took to ensure (Y/n)'s safety, even if it meant facing the fearsome Volturi head-on. She was his world, his everything, and he would never let any harm come to her, no matter the cost.

With a renewed sense of determination, Garrett gently scooped (Y/n) into his arms and carried her to her bed, where he lay beside her, his keen eyes vigilantly scanning the darkness for any sign of danger.

[wickedwitchofthesouth]

Imagine if spn hell was like hazbin hell,, that would be the peak of comedy. IMAGINE ALASTOR TURNING SAM INTO A DEMON BABY AND THE BOYS RUNNING AFTER THE RADIO DEMON INSTEAD OF THE YELLOW EYED DEMON I'm cryinggggggggg and Charlie dies goes to hell and becomes THE FUCKING PRINCES!! Lucifer isn't trapped in a cage he actually just prefers to stay locked in his room playing with little duckies AND LILITH IS HIS WIFE?!?!

This crossover would heal me

[becks-fizz]

[drfrankensteinvsthequeerborgs]

Dean trying to torture Alistair ended up being the living embodiment of “this’ll hurt me more than it hurts you”, and for what

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

n-e-way Alistair should have come back in season 15. chuck absolutely should have brought him back. would have liked to see that!

[xx-blueboy-xx]

Do you think Alistair ever had Dean torture John after he pulled him off the rack? Do you think John looked at his son and didn't believe it. Saying "you can't trick me. I know you're just some demon."

And Dean never corrected him.

[winchestersickness]

Btw the actor who plays Alistair should consider modeling for some Russian oil paint artist or similar because he has insane facial features and I think those would compliment well the harrowing and haunted look of so many russian portraits

[ldthegreen]

Yes I'm well aware I'm unhinged and have a type

[frumious-bandersnatch-ao3]

Okay so I realize not as many people like him as a character and this is nowhere near as far-reaching as the Cas v Cass debate, but: