Twilight fanfiction can i borrow your umbrella

Seven Hundred and Fifty. For reference- how big was your middle school? I think we tend not to understand how personal their inclusion in Twilight was. Smeyer took advantage of them. She's rich off of them and their culture. AutumnRhythm 4. LollyPopZz 4. Murmmer 5. ThatOneChick 0.

Twilightfever 3. Terms of Service. Joined , id: , Profile Updated: AutumnRhythm 4 blackxout 3 feelthewindxx It also writes against fan practices that are perceived as perpetuating harmful understandings of transness. For instance, canonically male Sherlock Holmes is portrayed much more frequently as trans male, i. In other words, trans characters in Sherlock transfics tend to portray non-normative but unchanged genders in that the characters continue to be read and identify as their canonical gender or something close to it.

About half of the Sherlock fanfiction on the AO3 is slash fanfiction, i. This relationship is also frequently explored in transfic, which is why it makes sense to not only look at Sherlock transfic in relation to genderbending fanfiction but also in how it relates to slash. As the examples above indicate, Sherlock transfic, in the majority of cases, is also slash, depicting the relationship between Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.

Positioning transfic, at least in the case of Sherlock , as a subgenre of slash allows for a broadening of the genre to include diverse and multiple understandings of masculinity. Slash is not necessarily an unproblematic genre, by potentially perpetuating hetero- and homonormative discourses, and transfic as slash thus allows for the inclusion of non-normative masculinities in these stories of male intimacy. The comments to both Brilliant and Commonplace and Everything I am hint at a readership that is, in large parts, made up of trans people because many commenters share this information about themselves.

Transfic is geared towards an audience that is familiar, or willing to familiarise itself, with trans experiences. It can also be read as a practice of self-narration in which trans people tell of their own experiences through the fictional characters they love. Furthermore, transfic provides the opportunity for trans fans to get together within their online fandoms. In the following case, a Sherlock is thus assigned female at birth but identifies as male:.

As in the first example and the fanfictions discussed above, this headcanon provides an affirmative depiction of trans experiences in the way it positions the medically altered trans body as beautiful and lovable.

These types of headcanons are more generic and could easily apply to a variety of fandoms, or indeed work as trans writings without any fandom connection whatsoever. Dialogues between fans, in a similar way to the comments mentioned above, become apparent in Tumblr interactions.

Headcanons are a practice that allows fans to put their particular reading of and engagement with a source text in writing, which they are then able to share and circulate online.

Tumblr obviously has many more examples of headcanons to offer, including what could be regarded as more traditional forms of fan writing, like in the following ficlet i. Sherlock is scowling, his round face creased irritatedly. Eventually, Mummy decides it might be better for Sherlock to wear trousers like his brother.

At the same time, the narrative points to the ways in which gender is coded into the everyday, through e. It refers to the lived reality of trans people, who often need to deal with a lack of understanding from those closest to them as they perpetuate harmful gender discourses, even if they do not mean to do so.

The narratives are ultimately affirmative and supportive even if they do not erase the negative sides of the trans experience. They showcase a variety of aspects of being trans. Due to their shortness and their lack of exposition, the intended audience, considered as familiar with the theme and able to relate to the experiences that form the basis of such headcanons, is even more pronounced than in the fanfiction examples.

Sharing headcanons is a way for fans to come together as a group, and sometimes to build and maintain a community, regardless of how diffuse it may be on platforms like Tumblr.

For example, the following Tumblr post was made after trans Sherlock fans were criticised for their interpretation of the source text, which is why katzensprotte shared a fan art showing a trans Sherlock being embraced by John accompanied by the following note:. Trans Sherlock is absolutely canon compliant. Transfic, however, needs to be not only positioned as writing that responds and relates to other writings, which all fanfiction does, but also needs to be analysed in relation to its readers and writers, as the fanfiction paratexts above have shown.

It had sent a chill down my spine. I had half-heartedly held my hand out in greeting when Alice introduced me to him, but after a timeless hesitation, he simply pulled his dirt-covered fingertips out of the pot and grimaced at me. That was his non-verbal and completely unconvincing way of saying "I'd shake your hand, but alas, my fingers are too dirty. I was reminded of that agonized look again when he saw me watching Alice make cookies. Then he wrinkled his nose and took a step backward as though he had been completely overwhelmed by skunk or something equally foul smelling.

I reacted by sniffing at my sleeve. It smelled smoky and briny from the beach barbeque. I figured that maybe the aroma was stronger than I could detect because I'd been out in it for the last few hours. But William was looking at me strangely too. Alice didn't seem to notice as she attacked the sheet of dough with her cookie cutters.

But I realized he was just staring with a look of horror on his beautiful face. I was mesmerized by him. Surely we weren't locked in each other's gaze for more than five seconds, but everything felt slowed down to me in that moment. I almost felt like something so profound was happening that I was floating above myself and witnessing it as a spectator.

But nothing was different. Alice was still dancing and making cookies. I was still slightly chilled from the night air.

William was still inhumanly gorgeous and devoid of people skills. That was all it was. He was just lost in his own thoughts as I myself had been so much lately, so how could I let it get to me? When he broke the trance to steal a glance at Alice, I shook my head a little and hugged my arms to stave off a shiver. He quickly muttered his goodbye and was out the door before I could even register that he was gone. I refused to let myself believe he had moved any faster than normal, though.

I was just tired from the long, long day. I'm throwing this chapter up even though it's a short one because everyone wants to know whether Edward will feature in this story or not. Short answer: Of course he will! Stephenie Meyer owns everything, and I am enchanted by her work. Chapter Three: House Call. I was half asleep by the time Rose showed up. That was when I let sleep take me. On Saturday morning, I was awakened by a knock at the door. Alice, Rose and I were each in a sleeping bag on top of Alice's enormous bed.

Rose had her eye mask on, and didn't stir. Alice sat up at the second percussion and grumbled. I waited til I heard her bare feet padding through the hallway and then got out of bed to go to the bathroom. I heard voices in the kitchen after I had flushed, so I brushed my teeth quickly and went out to see if everything way okay. Cullen was the last person I expected to find in Alice's kitchen. I knew he was a cousin of William's. Or maybe Mrs. Cullen was the cousin.

I was a bit fuzzy on the connection. But the two times Alice had gone with me to the emergency room, she had chatted amiably with the handsome doctor and introduced me warmly. He was absolutely the nicest doctor I had ever had, and it didn't hurt that he was also the best looking man in Forks. If William was gorgeous and he was , Dr.

Carlisle Cullen was indescribable. From his lustrous halo of golden hair to his broad shoulders that could fill out a Superman costume without any padding, to his perfect smooth careful fingertips, he was incredible. And sometimes there was a hint of a scent about him that drew me right in.

It drove me a little insane. It almost wasn't cologne, but it clearly had to be. No one could just smell like that. Plus, though I'd met him a few times he only smelled delicious a couple of those times. To be perfectly honest, the scent was more attractive to me than even his movie star smile and glittery light golden-brown eyes.

He smiled at me as I entered the room. If I had been groggy and half asleep a moment ago, I was wide awake now. Alice was making coffee. Sorry to wake you. His perfect forehead crinkled in concern as I cleared my throat. He walked over to the sink and washed his hands. I saw massive amounts of steam rising from the water, and I wondered how he could stand so much heat. Then I realized I might be feverish and it could just be a lot colder in the room than I thought. He dried his fingertips and pressed his warm fingertips gently into the sides of my neck.

I inhaled and was touched by a hint of that aroma I loved so much. I breathed more deeply and my mouth watered a little. Or maybe that was just because he was prodding at my lymph nodes. I opened my eyes and noticed Alice watching me from my periphery. I had once made the mistake of telling her how good he smelled. But it wasn't really him, I thought. The scent was just on him.

Attached to him a little. Lingering from some previous contact with it. Maybe it's just the fabric softener he uses. Or a trace of his wife's perfume. Take Tylenol and drink plenty of fluids this weekend. If you start feeling bad, give me a call and I'll start you on antibiotics before this knocks you out. My voice really did have a bit of a rasp to it. Have you had a flu shot? Charlie had nagged me about that. He sat at the counter across from me as we waited for the coffee to drip through the machine.

Alice went to brush her teeth, and I was feeling a little weary. And also uncomfortable. I felt like I needed to hostess it up a bit while Alice was out of the room, but I had no idea what to say. I was relieved when Dr. Cullen broke the silence. Alice had told me about her de facto cousin Edward who lived with his sister Esme Cullen and the hunky doctor.

But he had anemia or something. There was some reason why he was home-schooled. I couldn't remember the reason. But then Alice returned. He needs to be around people his own age, I think.

Cullen smiled, so we nodded in agreement. I haven't seen him since last Christmas. He's not still sick, then? Cullen lifted his hands to take a mug of hot coffee from Alice and I caught a faint drift of that delicious aroma. I thought he would have graduated by now though, I thought he was way older than me, but I guess I just got that impression because he's so tall. I bet he's even taller now. There are a whole flock of freshmen who are newer than me.

She had a point. She made a face after taking a sip from her mug. I wasn't going to say anything, but it was pretty bad. I hadn't noticed Dr. Cullen do anything more than sniff it and shift the cup from hand to hand, either.

Alice took a small pitcher, filled it halfway with milk, and popped it into the microwave. I had taught her the trick of taking the chill off the milk before turning a nice cup of hot coffee into a luke-warm mess.

Cullen rose. His teeth could be used as flashbulbs by the paparazzi. I might have drooled just a little, and I didn't even manage to say goodbye properly before Alice was walking him to the door. When she came back I was finally struck by the strangeness of a 10am house call on a Saturday when no one had called a doctor.

I had to ask, "Did he come by for any reason? Alice looked at me. She appeared to be thinking. A kind of involved and convoluted stretch. But once again I just shrugged. And took a cookie. Chapter Four: Thirst Saturday was rainy, and I felt a bit crap, so I put on a sweatshirt and dragged my sleeping bag into Alice's living room to watch movies while Alice and Rose gave each other pedicures.

We got the story about Tyler. I'd seen him looking at her at pep rallies. He didn't just ogle her bouncing chest like the rest of the football team. He always watched her hair swirl in platinum ribbons. He'd lick his lips when a strand got stuck in her lip-gloss and she moved her hand up to pull it away.

He smiled when she smiled, and he frowned when her forehead knitted in concentration when the squad was climbing into the pyramid. He clearly worshipped her. And then there was Rose: staring at him while he practiced with the team, fretting near the Gatorade table when he was sprawled on the bench with an ice pack, packing his "Spirit Box" with home made cookies before every home game.

It was silly. They never even spoke to each other. Each of them was too insane over the other to be able to make human conversation. Yet, here she sat, on Alice's sofa with a tiny bottle of Poolside Pink in one hand and Alice's tiny foot in the other, gushing about Emmett's tastiness.

I rolled my eyes to myself. She was all talk. Apparently Tyler had been all hands, and it had caused upheaval in the movie theatre. After forty-five minutes of slapping his gropey hands away, Rose had retreated into the lobby in a huff, which had caused Emmett to follow with his irritated date in tow , which had caused Tyler to follow. The four of them had stood outside the cinema in uncomfortable silence in the cold breeze until Kris and Rob had come up for air long enough to realize they were making out in an empty row.

They'd finally gone out to find their friends standing in an awkward square on the front sidewalk. Rose HAD wanted to make out with Tyler just for practice- ew , until his clammy palms and Skittle breath turned her off.

Alice didn't seem surprised that Tyler had turned out to be a total dud. His lips kind of look like they'd be better suited to an eel than a guy. Rose shuddered in agreement, and I sneezed. My head was beginning to feel huge. I don't know why I said it. Rose hated that kind of butting in, but in that moment, it seemed silly to me that the two of them were stuck in this seemingly never-ending dance around the obvious.

It wasn't like Jazz and Alice. That was apparently still one-sided. For now. Rose gave me a withering glare, but Alice smiled. How has Jazz not noticed Alice? She's freaking gorgeous. Maybe not in the perfect, bombshell cheerleader way that Rose is gorgeous, but in a delicate, hand-carved, idol of a deity kind of way. Alice was ephemerally lovely while Rose was frankly beautiful. And then there was me. Brown hair, brown eyes, white skin, red nose currently, anyway. I was a real treat to behold.

I sighed and pulled my head out of the silent pity party. What did I need with allure when I had so much wonderful phlegm building up in my head? By four in the afternoon, I had gone to bed in Alice's room, and Alice had called Dr. He said he'd drop by with antibiotics on his way home.

I was in no spirit to argue over the fuss by then. I even let Alice and Rose make themselves feel all Florence. Nightingale by bringing me cups of tea. I was incredibly surprised to wake up in the hospital. I opened my eyes to see a feeble whiteness shining through the window onto the white blinds and the pale greenish wall.

I smelled coffee. I looked toward the foot of the bed where Charlie sat reading the newspaper and sipping from a white styrofoam cup. I hated styrofoam cups. Even so, Charlie looked up and then stood up to walk closer to me.

How'ya feeling? I had a lot of generic pain, but no specific pain other than in my throat and the upper part of my chest. No bones seemed to be broken. I swallowed a sip and then gasped as cold water trickled down my chin and neck. Swallowing hurt like hell, and I had reflexively stopped swallowing after the first drops slid down my throat. I began spluttering and coughing while Charlie dropped the bottle and began flailing his arms around helplessly.

I thought I was going to choke to death because once I had started coughing, I couldn't stop. Pain seared through my chest and phlegm burned me as it ripped upward toward my throat. I couldn't inhale. Suddenly, Strong hands were pulling me forward and leaning me over while something blew across my face. I heard a machine going crazy in the background, and I heard my raspy breathing catch and then slow. My eyes were watering so much that I couldn't even see Charlie any more, but I knew Dr.

Cullen was there because of the strong hands and hint of deliciousness that overtook my senses. I felt a tissue brush across my eyes, and I saw a nurse and the gorgeous doctor standing in front of Charlie, who looked like he had just run over his own puppy. I tried to tell him it was okay, but my voice still didn't work. Cullen seemed to read my mind and turned to calm Charlie down. The nurse retreated, and I saw Rose carrying a balloon and Alice with a vase full of daffodils.

I smiled weakly, having learned my lesson about trying to talk. Once he was satisfied that I was breathing relatively normally, Charlie said he needed to get back to work, but he'd check on me later, which confused me. He never worked on Sundays. I waved to him though, and he grimaced as he shuffled through the door. Cullen brought a flashlight to my face and asked me to open my mouth.

I complied, feeling a little weird about Alice and Rose looking on. But he seemed to only need a quick glance at my throat before he was satisfied. He wrote something on the clipboard that was hanging at the foot of my bed and said, "I'm going to change your medicine a little bit, Bella. You'll need to tell us right away if you start to feel nauseous.

Cullen nodded and closed the door silently behind him. Alice swatted at her arm. I laughed and got caught up in another coughing fit. I think I scared the hell out of the girls because Rose ran out of the room yelling for a nurse while Alice seemed to understand my frantic hand gestures meaning I needed a little help to lean forward. By the time the nurse came back, I was breathing again. She told me to keep quiet until she came back with my new medications.

I carefully whispered the two questions pressing on my consciousness. What day is it? You've got pneumonia. How the hell did I come down with pneumonia?

You have seemed a bit worn out lately. I sighed, which made a horrible gurgling noise in my chest, and the nurse came in with a syringe, which almost made me pass out on site.

Alice and Rose both knew about my needle-phobia and each of them grabbed one of my flailing arms as I squeezed my eyes shut as tightly as they would go. I'm not going to stick you," the nurse was totally unconcerned with my panic. What a sweet old lady. She injected whatever it was into the tube that I was trying to ignore.

She addressed Rose and Alice on her way out of the room. Don't wear her out. When I made sad puppy dog eyes because my friends would be abandoning me she added, "we hitched a ride with Edward, and I don't want him to have a fit about how long it takes to get to my house from here.

Rose did live on the 'far side' of town. It never bothered me that I was the girls' perpetual taxi service throughout all of Greater Forks because no trip I ever made was more than four miles in any direction, unless we were driving out to the beach or to Port Angeles.

But for all I knew, my friends might have had a tough time getting a ride from the new guy, despite his familial connection to Alice. In the end, I didn't have time to be either worn out by or saddened by the shortness of the visit because I was almost instantly sleepy. And my throat stopped hurting. And the faint beeping off in the corner was a tinny little echo. I had strange dreams while I was drugged out of my head. I felt like ghosts were walking in and out of the room around me, gliding silently, filling my head with disembodied whispers.

In one dream I heard hushed voices: "It doesn't make any sense. William, they're never going to allow it I'm not going to allow it. This is insane. I wish it was different, but every time I look at her, it's all I see. Every single time. It was only what I smelled. Then I heard a groan. Maybe that had come from me. Then I slept soundly a while longer. The next thing I remember was a gasp. A horrified gasp that really scared my blood into ice. It was the most mournful, lost, and melancholy noise I had ever heard.

It shook me from my bones to my flesh, and my eyes shot open into the darkness. My skin was covered in goose bumps, and I was gasping at the air around me- no longer because I couldn't breathe but because the room was saturated with the most delicious essence I had ever smelled in my life.

Instinctively my lungs clutched at it. My lips ached for every molecule of it that lingered heavily over the normal antiseptic air of the hospital. My tongue tried to touch it in the darkness. And then the door opened, and I saw Dr. Cullen framed in the light from the hallway. His face was a morbid mask of shock as his eyes met mine.

My body was aching for the aroma that was quickly dissipating all around me now that the door was open. I realized I had been leaning forward, every muscle tense with desire, and I fell back against the pillows.

I must have had a look of anguish on my face before my heavy eyelids closed again because Dr. Cullen really looked sorry for me. As I drifted off again, I thought I heard him say, "Oh. My poor boy. I had to make a couple of corrections in this chapter. Sorry for previous spelling nightmares. I was still exhausted, but I coughed less violently and less often. And my fever had been gone since the night. Occasionally a car would rush; wheels would squeak on the turn toward the emergency entrance.

Once, an ambulance pulled in with its lights flashing while the rain pelted at the windows. I knew that whoever was in the back of the ambulance had been in a traffic accident, and I worried about all my friends who'd be getting out of school soon only to face the increasingly angry sounding sleet and slick roads.