#Sally Watson

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

Sally Watson - Magic at Wychwood - Alfred A. Knopf - 1970 (illustrated by Frank Bozzo)

[yeetmetotheforbiddenwildwest]

Part 1: here

AU concept Part 2

After mission city or even Egypt (not sure it matters without the whole thing being put together) Sam discovers something absolutely insane. More insane than alien robots.

He's a werewolf. Not the Harry Potter 'get bitten by a werewolf, you become one'. No he's the shape-shifting kind (similar to the twilight ones but we throw in and mix a little Wolfwalker and warrior cats).

His family(I'm still not entirely sure if Sam is adopted and Sally is his aunt or if she is his bio mom; I'll make it work, just bear with me) is camping when it happens, he turns into a wolf and panics, running off (Sorry it's very cliche, I'll think of something better but for whatever reason he ends up in the woods). Anyways he is attacked by a bear or cougar or a pack of actual animal wolves (already in his wolf form; he doesn't become a werewolf because he is attacked, but was one genetically. His father was human but his mom, Sally Watson is a werewolf too).

The thing with the type of werewolf Sam is- is that similar to Twilight quilietes, boys don't usually get their wolves until they're 16 or older but purebloods (Both parents are werewolves; halfbloods would be one werewolf parent and the other parent being human) can get theirs much earlier even if both their parents are half-human. Girls won't always get their wolf forms even when being pure-bloooded.

(Can you tell this is a very weird wild fan-fiction yet? It's based on a lot of other people's AUs of many different fandoms, if it looks similar to yours, I apologize)

Sam is very injured as a result of the animal attack. His back right leg is super chewed up from the fight and covered in scars. He has a scar over and is half-blind in his left eye, and also has a torn floppy left ear and is missing some of his left teeth. (I totally fell in love with Birdsong Warriors Swiftpaw AU. It inspired my fic lol and Swiftpaw's design is basically Sam's wolf)

He wakes up in the woods and freaks out because he can't clearly remember what happened also he's a very injured wolf but his back right leg and back are bandaged and so is his left eye.

A brown, black, and white wolf with one green eye and one light brown/tawny yellow eye (werewolf oc of mine (he's 25 and his character is based off one of my favorite youtubers) asks him to calm down.

The wolf tells him his name is Thorn (I can't think of a freaking suffix for him!) and refers to Sam as Swiftpaw (it's very warrior cat inspired) because these wolves don't know his real name yet and Sam doesn't think it's a good idea to tell them his real name and he just met them.

Sam asks why he called him Swift and Thorn explains the clan/pack thing and that he gave Sam his wolf name himself after watching him fight the animals with how quickly he moved. Thorn also explains how he is the deputy/second in charge(whatever you want to call it) and how he and his patrol rescued Sam.

Sam asks if he's gonna make it or if he'll ever be able to turn back again and Thorn is surprised to discover "Oh... This kid never phased before last night!". Thorn explains yes, he's a shape-shifter and will be able to transform back into a human and back into his wolf whenever he wants but that Sam can't leave-

Sam takes this entirely the wrong way, thinking he's being held hostage and Thorn hastily tries to calm him, explaining he shouldn't try to transform until he is healed, implying that Sam probably isn't able to walk yet what with his injuries on his back and right leg- Oh and also he has a bobtail now because it got so chewed up by the bear/wolf/dogs whatever they had to amputate it and asks if Sam can bend his leg to prove his point. Sam tries to do so and fails, screams, has a coughing fit, a bit of trouble catching his breath, and a new black and grey she-wolf with blue eyes runs over, yelling his wolf-name (Swift) and asks him if he's okay (plot twist, the newly introduced werewolf is Mikaela; haven't thought of a wolf name for her yet, hold on guys).

"(Mikaela)?! You're one of them?" Sam asks, recognizing her by her voice.

Mikaela takes a bit of offense to this and explains, Yes, she is 'one of them.' and Sam is also 'one of them' so Sam asks her why she didn't tell him she was a werewolf and if she knew about him. She explains it isn't something to be broadcasted and no, she didn't know he had wolf-shifter blood.

After the talking is done and an awkward silence, Mikaela asks 'how are your teeth?'

And Sam is like, 'My teeth?' and Mikaela glares at Thorn who chuckles awkwardly, realizing he had forgotten to tell Sam he lost a couple canines and some molars.

Mikaela uses her claws to remove the bandages from Sam's back and right leg, and then from his head.

'Can you see? Your left eye and ear were injured in the battle.' Mikaela asks, bandages swept under her paw.

'Uh... a little but not really...' Sam answers.

'Well... I'm sorry we couldn't save your tail...' Mikaela says, 'You wouldn't have been able to move or bend it with how badly chewed/sliced up it was... how about your leg?'

'He already tried.' Thorn tells Mikaela, "That's why he screamed,"

Mikaela frowns, 'can you stand, Swift?'

'I can try,' Sam says but utterly fails to push himself onto his paws.

'Hmm... You should get some rest...' Mikaela says, 'I'll be back to check on you later.'

--That's it for now, folks. Congrats if you made it this far--

[ohwatson]

bbc john watson is so funny because he’s characterized throughout the fandom as this kind, easy-going man who wears lots of jumpers and makes copious amounts of tea when in reality he literally shot a guy two hours after eye fucking his new flatmate, is kind of a sarcastic asshole who isn’t all that great in social settings, wears one or two jumpers (he owns a lot of jackets, though) and never makes tea once

[mxflowercheck]

So.

Cups and Sherlock BBC characters!

(John’s mug says “Some people need a high five. In a face. With a chair.”)

[nocontexttaskmaster]

[vampir-el]

in this world you are either a i'm always seeing you (do cool stuff) or rosalind is a fucking nightmare

[astudyinimagination]

Truly, the women of the Sherlock Holmes canon and the surrounding media are beautiful and excellent and messy and awful and human, human, human... and the fandom does not deserve them.

[stoptherevolve]

i fucking love that mischief have characters that they cast different gendered understudies/ swings for. trevor becoming tessa and dennis becoming denise? it just gives me hope as a feminine presenting gender confused person that i might get to play my dream roles one day🥹

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts (21) Fire

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 21)

Summary: Rosie muses about her peculiar family, and gets invited/ordered to come to the pub.

Twenty-One Years Old

My family wasn’t exactly what you would call average or normal, but as Dad and Papa constantly pointed out: who wants normal. Certainly, none of us. Being an only child and without any cousins, I was mostly exposed to adults outside school. By now, I think you can agree that that wasn’t as boring as it sounded.

Uncle Myc made sure that our small family was extended when he and uncle Greg finally realised that what they had was too precious to ignore. 

Papa tried to warn the DI in his normally dramatic flair.

“You know this is playing with fire, Gavin? Falling for a Holmes, means there’s no escape. You’ll be trapped for life, and our love is fierce and protective. A bit like that dragon. John, which film was it?”

“The Hobbit,” Dad answered and reassured uncle Greg that he had nothing to fear. “Deep down, they’re as fluffy as new-born kittens.”

This got him glares that brave men would’ve flinched under, but Dad only laughed and gave Papa a kiss on the forehead and uncle Myc a pat on the shoulder. No one knew how to deal with the Holmes brothers like my Dad.

Of course, this didn’t stop Papa’s attempts to abuse uncle Greg’s name but probably increased it. From that day, every name in the book was put to good use. Dad told him he was being childish, but Dad’s poker face in such matters was laughable at best, so he fooled no one. My uncles just rolled their eyes, knowing that arguing with Papa would accomplish absolutely nothing.

The less said about my aunts, the better, but I’m not exactly one who’s able to keep my mouth shut, am I... 

Aunt Harry, the one who was still alive, just barely, by the state of her liver, according to Dad, another one playing with fire, had never been a part of my life. Just like Papa’s deranged and murderous sister, thank God. Dad gave Harry an ultimatum after we moved to Baker Street; get help to get sober or stay away. It sounds harsh, doesn’t it? I had started school when I learned of her existence. We got an assignment to make a family tree.

“Extended and chosen family can also be included,” our teacher told us.

I had no idea what she was talking about, and neither did my friends, so I turned to my main source of information, my parents.

When Dad told me he had a sister, dozens of questions were instantly on the tip of my tongue, but he cut me off before I could utter any of them.

“She’s only my sister by biology, not by heart. You can put her name on the family tree if you like, but she’s sadly not interested in switching the bottle for family.”

“What Dad means, is that the biological part doesn’t always matter. Chosen and extended family can be just as good, sometimes even better,” Papa explained.

***

I found it comforting when uncle Greg moved in with uncle Myc, because the older I got, the more I worried about uncle Myc’s solitary life. He deserved to be loved by others, not just his family. 

The pair were even more peculiar than Dad and Papa. Dad and uncle Greg were much more similar, coming from the same upbringing and social class, while uncle Myc and Papa were posh gits. (Dad and uncle Greg’s words.) But still, they fitted together, just like Dad and Papa.

And where did that leave me? Somewhere in the middle, I guess. I wasn’t really that exposed to the upper classes. That was uncle Myc’s area. At least in the connection with his job. I had the advantage of being raised by people of both societies, though, so I coped better at posh events than Dad for example. Granny and Pops were quite down-to-earth people, who obviously rose to the occasion if need be.

***

Uncle Myc was unable to deny the love of his life anything, but he drew the line when it came to pub quiz nights. He didn’t budge a millimetre when uncle Greg tried to flatter him into participating.

“Myc, love. You would ensure that my team won the whole shebang. At least when the questions are about politics, language, history, mathematics et cetera.”

“Gregory, mon cher,” uncle Myc said softly and arched an eyebrow.

Uncle Greg admitted defeat and turned to me. I was twenty-one, drank alcohol on occasion, and was above average intelligence. Three good reasons to join the team apparently.

***

“So, do I call you uncle, Greg, or Lestrade?” I inquired before we entered the pub.

“Just avoid Gaylord and Grimmwolf,” he deadpanned.

“Those are his latest then?” I giggled.

“John said he looked up obscure ones online when he’d used up all the names in the book he found among Mary’s things.”

“Sounds like Papa,” I replied.

I had seen the book now and again, but I never knew it once belonged to my mother.

Luckily for everyone involved, Philip Anderson was no longer a part of uncle’s team Division. Sally Donovan was, but she and Papa had long since buried the hatchet, and she welcomed me quite civilly.

Uncle Greg mocked me the entire evening for my choice of drink. 

“Sour beer has nothing to do with beer in my opinion,” he scolded looking disgusted at my pink brew.

“I don’t mind what you call it. Your Guinness looks more like tar than beer to me, so I guess we have to agree to disagree,” I retorted. “Now, do you know the answer to the fifth question or not?”

“You’re a good mix of Watson, Holmes, and yourself,” Sally told me after that.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” I said. “Thank you. I take that as a compliment, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. That was the intention. They’re…um…good men and are evidently skilled at parenting. I’ll obviously deny it if I’m ever confronted with this,” she murmured.

Uncle Greg placed another glass of the “undrinkable” beer in front of me and gave Sally’s shoulder a pat.

“Getting sentimental on my, Sally?” he inquired with a smile.

“Hardly,” she scoffed and headed for the bar, but her soft expression gave her game away.

Also available on AO3

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @raina-at @helloliriels

More tags in the replies

[inexpressiblybeatiful]

Hey guys! I made a meme. (Also posted in r/Sherlock)

[1-800-crystalball]

taskmaster s5 my beloved

I MADE ANOTHER OUT OF CONTEXT VIDEOOOOO

[wordup2007]

Mother-daughter moments (Episode: The Case of the Copied Mrs. Botsford)

[meandhisjohn]

SD: " Made the picture by accident when John came to check the body.

I thought you might like it."

SH: " It's very beautiful, but why ?"

SD: " Look, John is a good guy, and you obviously make him happy.

So just be happy with him..Frea... Holmes."

SH: " We are happy.

Thank you, Donovan."

[gelstertherealgel]

Some spectacular gals from my twitter

[fluffishere]