#bbt reader insert

[rose-bookblood]

🍂👻🎃

Send me an October-themed ask.

🍂 leaves: what does your editing process look like? how does your wip typically change as you work on it?

So far, I haven't gotten to an advanced editing stage, but I've done a couple revisions. For my current two WIPs, the process has been very different: BBtS completely changed once already and is now in the process of being reoutlined from scratch, while RWR has undergone comparatively minimal changes. In the second draft I just changed a plot point to intensify the conflict, added a couple chapters and expanded on the material that was already there. I'm excited for my upcoming third draft, since that's when I'll start sending the WIP to alpha readers!

👻 ghost: can you tease some wip ideas that have been haunting you/something you want to write in the future?

I've mentioned a couple times, without going into specifics, that I'm working on a fairytale retelling. It's a post-apocalyptic and supernatural Beauty and the Beast retelling, but there will also be other fairytales thrown in there, especially in the second book (it's probably going to be a duology). Even though I'm still in the brainstorming phase, I'm thrilled, because I've been dying to write a retelling for ages! I'm particularly looking forward to writing some parts set in my city, since the characters will be moving around France, Germany and Italy.

🎃 pumpkin: do you have any favorite brainstorming techniques? how do you like to gather ideas for your wip?

Oftentimes, the ideas just come to me in a flash, mostly because I'm inspired by another piece of media. If I find a seed that's concrete enough and I'm excited about, I will be thinking about it constantly, which helps a lot, and then it'll be a process of trial and error. I'll toy with a concept, maybe stick with it for a while, realize there's a better option and switch it up. I often start from the characters, since their motivations and personality traits are what shape the story the most. Other times I just really want to insert a trope in there, so I'll make it fit XD My preferred brainstorming tecnique is to write what I already have on my brainstorming notebook, then unravel the concept until I create a mind map.

Thanks for the ask, Cammie!

[strawwritesfic]

Rajesh Koothrappali x Female!Reader: Swallow

Summary: There’s a chance you won’t end up with as many cats as Sarah expects after all.

Rating/Tags: T (drinking; drinking in excess; designated driver; texting; meet-cute; bars; set when Raj couldn’t talk to girls; set before Penny and Bernadette getting married to their canonical spouses; Penny & Bernadette; Penny & Bernadette & Raj; reader & original characters; mild language)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Notes: Yeah, I used to watch this show with my parents. I stopped way before them, but I got requests for some of the characters, so...Anyway, please keep in mind any references to Raj being foreign and all were my attempts to reflect the show itself, not actually my own personal views. Same with the dismissive references to nerd culture.

Swallow

“Ready? On the count of three. One…two…three!”

With a chorus of clinking and several shudders, three shot glasses hit the hard tabletop. The sound had barely faded when one of the surrounding girls started giggling. Five stops into this barhopping experience and someone was sure to snap sooner or later. Sure enough, the next words spoken were, “Shut up!” 

The giggling stopped.

“Wow, guys,” you said, as you gathered up the empty cups. “Much more of this and I’ll be peeling you all off the floor.”

“Shut up,” Sarah snapped again, which only caused Cassie to break out in another fit of giggles.

You lifted a single eyebrow, and she quieted quickly enough. Then again, that might have had more to do with the death glare that Sarah shoot her. Angry Sarah, silly Cassie…you were starting to get a bad feeling about this entire venture.

“Seriously. I think you’ve had enough. All of you,” you added at Jess’s blank fidgeting right across from you. 

The entire adventure was for her benefit, but she looked the least enthusiastic of the bunch. Letting her drink herself into oblivion sounded kind on paper, sure. Forcing her to get up for work the following morning with a raging headache? Not so much. You took her silence for agreement; unfortunately, your attempt to take pity on poor Jess went absolutely nowhere.

Cassie shook her head frantically. “Whaaaaat? You mean we have to go home? But that’s not fair, [Name]! That’s just not fair!”

“Calm down, Cass.” Sarah patted the distraught woman clumsily on the back. “[Name] can’t make us go anywhere.”

“She can’t?”

“I can’t?” you asked.

Sarah downed another shot, then threw you a wide grin that you liked the look of not at all. “Just because you’re the designated driver–”

“Because I have to be.”

“Shut up. You’re the last person to have a breakup before Jess, so it’s your turn. That’s how it works.”

“And when’s it gonna be your turn?”

“When I break up with Dan. Which I won’t. So shut up.”

“This is a load of malarkey," you muttered

“Maybe we should ask Jess,” Cassie suggested, turning to the blonde still staring morosely at the table. “You ready to go home, Jess?”

“I thought Jake was my Dan,” was Jess's mumbled reply.

“Not enough booze!” Cassie cried with barely concealed delight. She reached for another tiny glass. “Sorreeee, [Name].”

“What do you mean, not enough booze? She's practically crying already,” you said, as Jess’s eyes filled with tears. ”

“She has to drink until she forgets Jake or until the bars close,” said Sarah.

“Are you kidding me? You three are already drunk off your asses!”

“Them’s the rules,” Sarah’s smirk swiftly transformed into her typical drunken scowl. “Until you get yourself paired off with some guy, you’re the driver on these things. Consider it an incentive to not wind up the crazy cat lady of the group.”

“I only have one cat,” you pointed out.

“Oh! Oh! Didn’t you say you were thinking about adopting another?” Cassie asked.

You shot her a death glare of your own this time, though its effect was not as great as Sarah’s.

“Oopsie.”

Sarah was too far gone to find any amusement in this revelation. She rolled her eyes and slid her empty cup toward your growing collection. “You don’t want to sit here watching us drink, fine. Why don’t you make yourself useful and go get us another round?”

“Oooor you could work the room,” Cassie said as she handed her glass over to you as well. “There’s loooots of boys here, and I’m sure you could find at least one smart enough to tempt even yoooou, [Name]!”

“Oh, you’re sure are you?” Sarah said.

“I’m sure!”

“Yeah, well you were sure at the last bar, too. And the one before that. And the one before that.”

“So?”

“So your optimism is grating. Shut up.”

“I think you should shut up!”

“I don’t think so. Why don’t you…”

Sarah’s voice faded into the background as you moved away from your friends. By the time you got back, Cassie and Sarah were likely to be at each other’s throats with Jess in tears over it. 

Barhopping always sounded a lot more fun when you were the one drinking away a breakup. Maybe Sarah was right. Maybe it was time for you to find someone else. You weren’t still hung up on your ex anymore–far from it, the jackass–but sometimes another cat seemed more appealing then another guy. You had yet to meet anyone that really made you want to work at a relationship. A few dates here and there. Nothing serious.

The bartender didn’t seem all that thrilled at you returning his dirty cups, though you were grateful that he didn’t send you away. The last thing you wanted was to be drawn into a fight that would be completely forgotten in the morning. 

Turning on your stool, you made to face the indie band playing at the back of the bar. They weren’t very good, but they beat the tar out of whatever was going down back at your friends’ table. You figured you could give the lot of them twenty more minutes, and then they’d all be so annoyed with each other that they would agree to go home. Until then, crummy music and snatched bits of nearby conversation would have to do for entertainment.

“Come on, Raj. Go out and buy some girl a drink,” a shrill voice punctured the otherwise dull buzzing surrounding the bar. 

You glanced in the direction it came from without thinking to see a tiny blonde woman–even tinier than Jess–gesturing at the wide selection before her and her two companions. The nearest to you was another blonde, taller than the other and with an air of practiced charm, who did not speak up until she had finished whatever was in her bottle:

“Yeah, you don’t gotta marry her or whatever. Just practice talking to a few. Otherwise you might as well have stayed back with the guys playing Call of War.”

The man they were speaking to simply looked pained. He clutched a beer so tightly in his hand that you were surprised it hadn’t shattered. Why he was even there, you didn’t know. He didn’t seem to be having a good time, and it was pretty obvious that he wasn’t the designated driver. He wasn’t even dressed to be at a bar–then again, neither were you.

“Come on, Raj,” said the tinier one again. “You can talk to us, can’t you?”

Raj shook his head.

“Not enough booze,” she said in a stage whisper.

The taller of the two women rolled her eyes heavenward, then mussed her hair up with her free hand before making to disappear into the crowd. “I’ve got an audition tomorrow. We wait much longer to do this, and there’ll be no one left here worth meeting. Let’s go.”

“Right. Our racks’ll probably do a better job than a pet scientist anyhow.” The other took a step to follow her friend. She didn’t get very far before she stopped and turned back to Raj. “If you drink enough that you can use that tongue of yours, feel free to join us.” 

A nervous nod on his part, then she was off at a trot. The two girls passed by you closely enough that you distinctly heard her mutter:

 “As if that’ll ever happen.”

Now it was you, this Raj fellow, and a few other mostly silent patrons at the bar. As bad as the band was, it was still live music, and most people seemed more interested in that than sitting around waiting for someone to buy them a drink. Not that you needed a drink, since you had three stops to make on your way home, and not that Raj needed another one before he finished the one he already had. You sighed and tried to concentrate on the music, though you were pretty sure it was giving you a headache. How much longer until Jess passed out?

A few minutes passed before you looked over at Raj again. He was still there, still looking downcast. Every so often he would sway to the music. You felt for him, poor guy. This didn’t look like his scene at all, and it must have sucked being ditched by his girlfriends like that. Perhaps you were two peas in a pod for the time being. 

It might have taken you another five minutes, but finally you worked up the nerve to go over to him. His eyes darted to you and away not once, not twice, but three times as you walked toward him in the semi-darkness. Raj was kind of cute, in a dorky sort of way. Not the kind of guy you normally met at these sorts of venues. Perhaps not the kind of guy who wanted to meet you at these sorts of venues, since he looked outright terrified by the time you stopped in front of him.

“Hi,” you said awkwardly.

He took a gulp of beer.

“I’m [Name].”

Raj smiled. Your heart banged uncomfortably in your chest. Obviously this guy didn’t want to talk to you. Why not bail? But somehow the way the small woman had dismissed him earlier made you want to try harder.

“And you are?” you prompted him.

He opened his mouth. 

You leaned forward eagerly to catch whatever came out, and…

He closed it again. Raj closed his mouth and swallowed and smiled and bobbed his head, and then went on to stare past you, as though you were nothing more than yet another license plate on the wall. 

You were so disappointed that you couldn’t find it in yourself to move away for nearly thirty more seconds. Well, you thought as you walked off, at least you tried. Maybe now everyone would be ready to leave so that you could escape the site of your most recent embarrassment as quickly as possible. Your first time talking to a guy in months, and it had to turn out like that. Maybe Sarah was right. Maybe you were doomed to be the crazy cat lady.

“Don’t forget we have to pick up our pet scientist before we leave.”

“I won’t, I won’t. Would you quit worrying? He’s not even drunk. He can find his way home just fine. He’s not our child, Bernadette.”

You looked up at the familiar voices. The two women from before stood just a little bit in front of you, looking bored and a bit more pink around the edges.

Before you could stop it, your mouth was saying, “Um. Hey.”

They looked over at you in perfect unison. 

“Hi,” said Bernadette hesitantly. “Can we help you?”

Probably not. Almost certainly not. Why you were bothering, you didn’t know, but you took a step closer and nodded your head in the direction of the bar. “About your friend back there.”

The taller one frowned. “Who? Raj? What about him?”

“Does he speak English?”

They stared at you so hard that you wished you had never spoken to either of them. Then they burst into laughter. Having no idea what you had said that was so funny, you could only watch on, bewildered. What? He looked foreign. No big deal. Him not speaking English would explain a lot–and perhaps bolster your. confidence a little. 

No such luck. Bernadette recovered first: “Of course Raj can speak English,” she said, as though this were obvious.

“Oh, I just thought–he wouldn’t talk to me...”

“Oh, sweetie,” the larger woman said, leaning forward and patting your shoulder so hard that you nearly toppled over. “He can speak English. He just can’t speak to women.”

“What?”

But they were already moving past you. “Pity he can’t find enough alcohol here to get him to talk. That one was actually cute,” Bernadette said, just before they walked out of earshot. 

Cute? You looked back over at the bar. Raj remained there, still intent on swaying to the music.

“Hey, [Name]! You gonna help or what?” Sarah shouted at you.

Startled, you twisted around to see her and Jess struggling to keep Cassie on her feet. 

“Move your ass! We gotta get her home before she starts vomiting. It’s your car, remember?”

You remembered. Raj forgotten, you hurried over to take the brunt of Cassie’s weight. What with Jess and Sarah being so inebriated, they could only hinder the group’s slow and unsteady progress toward the door. What followed was another chunk of time dedicated to getting Cassie in the car and buckled in while the other two made jokes at her expense. 

You had finally got everyone settled in and were about to open the car door to get inside yourself when you spotted the same trio from before leaving the building. Raj looked more upset than ever, but what did that matter to you? He didn’t speak to girls.

Wait. Speak?

“[Name]!” Sarah shouted after you as you raced away from the car and toward Raj and his two friends.

“H-Hey! Wait up!” you called. 

They did, though you suspected this was because you looked like a madwoman, running up with your arms flailing above your head.

“Oh. It’s you,” said Bernadette. “Did you need something, or…”

“Raj!” you said, slightly out of breath after all the physical labor. 

The look on his face made it obvious that you knowing his name was not something he’d expected. He didn’t talk this time either, but he didn’t have to. 

You dove into your purse, resurfaced with a pen and paper, and quickly scrawled your name and number across the scrap. “Here.”

Looking confused, he took your bit of paper.

“Text me?”

Before you could get a straight answer, you scuttled off. You had to get Cassie home, after all. 

Bernadette’s said one last thing in her high voice before your car door shut behind you: “You better text that one, Raj! Before all that beer leaves your system!”

“What was all that about?” Sarah wanted to know.

“I’ll tell you in the morning,” you said as your vehicle left the bar parking lot. “Let’s be quiet for now. Wouldn’t want to wake up Cass and Jess.”

She made a scoffing noise, but did as you directed. The drive home was relatively quiet and uneventful–save, just as you came back from laying Cassie out on her couch, your phone buzzing in the cup holder. You allowed yourself a peek and grinned.

“Rajesh Koothrappali. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

[starfast]

So you want to write an autistic character

So I watched the trailer for Sia’s movie just to see if it really was that bad. Spoiler alert: Yes it is. It made me feel like Sia was making fun of me for two and a half minutes. But it also made me really fucking angry because there’s not autism representation to begin with, and most of what we do have isn’t really that great, which is what drove me to make this post. I don’t have many followers so even if like 3 people see this, then at least that’s 3 people who have seen this.  

What would I like to see less of

Literally incapable of detecting sarcasm: “Wait,” you say, “But Starfast, there are autistic people out there who are like this!” Sure, there might be, but for me personally detecting sarcasm is a lot less difficult than literally every autistic character has made it out to be. Yes, there are times where it goes right over my head but those times are usually when there’s not enough context for me to figure out whether the person is being sarcastic or not. Some of us actually are able to tell when you’re being sarcastic, it usually depends on context.

The “Sheldon Cooper”:  Autism is really diverse and yet I feel like 99% of autistic characters are basically all just carbon copies of Sheldon Cooper from BBT. They’re maybe overly formal, blunt, or have a hard time picking up social cues. And while these are all things that are commonly associated with autism (although this type of character rarely shows any major downsides to having autism, more on that later), like I said earlier, autism is different for everyone. Not all of us are going to feel represented by this type of character. Honestly I don’t even relate to a lot of autistic characters because they just keep reusing the same autistic stock characters and that’s really disheartening to me. It’s almost like they’re not making autistic characters for autistic people.

The Burden: This probably doesn’t need to be explained that much but it was the one thing that really pissed me off about S**’s movie. In the trailer, I really got the very distinct impression that the older sister saw Music as a burden. Her life was just oh so difficult because she had this autistic sister. No one wants to be thought of that way. And idk if you neurotypicals know this but autistic people have feelings and we hear it loud and clear when you say these kinds of things and it hurts. 

Using autism as a punchline: I think it’s fine to have an autistic character to provide comic relief, BUT! if your comic relief involves laughing at an autistic character’s very autistic behaviour then you’re doing it wrong. This kind of goes back to my first point- the reason why I hate seeing the “incapable of detecting sarcasm” character is because it’s almost exclusively played for laughs. Please stop making fun of us. 

What would I like to see more of

Diversity: I feel like this doesn’t really need much explaining. Autism can affect anyone regardless of age, race, gender, sexuality, etc. And yet most autistic characters I’ve encountered are straight white guys. Let’s see more girls, more POCs, more LGBT+ who are autistic. 

Obvious drawbacks/struggles: When I talked about the Sheldon Cooper-type character I mentioned that this type of character doesn’t really seem to face many challenges that are directly related to autism. What I mean by this is that sometimes they’ll maybe just miss the odd social cue and it’s kinda embarrassing but it rarely gets worse than that. An autistic character is going to face challenges that a neurotypical won’t ever have to deal with and if you don’t acknowledge that then you’re not really properly portraying an autistic character. Show more autistic characters struggling to make friends, having meltdowns or experiencing sensory overload, having a hard time articulating themselves. The list goes on, honestly. 

Actually saying it: Have you ever seen it where there’s a certain character and a bunch of people go “hey, that character seems like they could be [insert literally any minority] and then the creator goes “Oh, yeah that’s totally what I intended!” I personally don’t really like this, because it feels kind of disingenuous. If you’re going to write an autistic character, it would be nice to have that brought up within the story. Autism isn’t a dirty word, you’re allowed to say it. The only exception I can think of would be if you’re writing a historical fiction or some other setting where autism hasn’t been recognized but most examples I can think of don’t fall into that category whoop there it is. 

Literally just anything that isn’t a stereotype. This seems to be setting the bar pretty low, but it still needs to be said. Autism looks different for everyone and just because someone doesn’t fit the mold for a stereotypical autistic person doesn’t mean they’re not autistic. No one wants to be represented by a stereotype. 

“I’m not autistic but I want to write an autistic character. Can I do that?” 

I can’t speak for the entire autistic community when I answer this but my opinion is yes, it’s ok provided that you’re being respectful and doing research beyond reading symptoms off of WebMD. That being said, here’s my final advice: 

Listen and talk to autistic people: If you’re not listening to the group you’re trying to represent then you’re not doing a good job. There are lots of people here out there who would be willing to answer your questions or be a sensitivity reader. There’s a lot of people here on tumblr who are willing to answer your questions (you can even ask me, but I’m just one person and I don’t have all the answers. I’d recommend talking to multiple people). 

Autism Speaks is not your friend: There’s been a lot of talk about why this organization sucks, but it mostly boils down to trying to end autism and not actually helping us. So make sure you’re steering clear of them while you’re doing your research. 

Reddit and Quora are actually great resources: Reason being is that these kinds of sites will give you lots of first hand information about being autistic, and that’s the best kind of information to have, usually. Most sites will just list symptoms, but the right reddit/quora thread will provide more insight about how these symptoms affect their daily life. Additionally, you’ll have multiple people offering their own views and since autism is so different for everyone it’s good to have more than one person’s opinion (psst... this tip works for writing other minority characters too!) 

[makemoneyonlineprofit-blog]

How Delegation Can Help You Break Through The $1 Million Barrier

https://120profit.com/?p=2672&utm_source=SocialAutoPoster&utm_medium=Social&utm_campaign=Tumblr Julia Pimsleur wrote “Million Dollar Women: The Essential Guide for Female Entrepreneurs Who Want to Go Big” to help women learn to raise capital and take their businesses further, faster. Julia Pimsleur – successful founder, scaling coach, speaker, and the author of Million Dollar Women – knows a lot about delegation. In fact, she’s often described as a “delegation ninja.” “As entrepreneurs, we often get used to doing everything ourselves instead of learning to manage and delegate,” she writes in her bestselling book, Million Dollar Women. “But to get to the million-dollar revenue mark and beyond, it’s much less about multitasking and much more about leading a team. Which means developing a host of leadership and management skills – chief among them, learning to delegate.” Pimsleur practices what she preaches, which is why she’s been able to expand her entrepreneurial empire to include an online business school, an annual summit for 200 women in New York City, and an active speaking career – all while raising two boys under the age of 14. We chatted to the busy-but-not-burned-out author about her best advice for delegation for entrepreneurs at every stage of their business journeys. What’s the most common misperception about delegation you’ve uncovered in the decision makers you work with? The most common misperception is that you can do it in what I call the “delegate and ditch” fashion. This means handing off a task or project, giving very little support or feedback, and getting it back perfectly executed. Successful delegators know this rarely works, if ever. You need to communicate clearly and frequently, with constructive feedback, in order to be happy with the results. It also helps to send a detailed brief for the assignment to the freelancer or collaborator you are working with in order to make sure you are all on the same page (literally). I also see people giving up too soon and blaming the person they handed off to or hired,  instead of their own delegation skills (or lack thereof). When the project comes back incomplete or not to their standard, some decision makers think the takeaway is “I shouldn’t delegate, it never goes right,” or “they aren’t good enough” when the takeaway should really be “I need to get better at delegating.” This means mastering basic delegation best practices, like trust but verify (allowing freelancers and coworkers to do the job you hired them to do) and “review early and often”—aka, checking in on progress frequently to make sure they are on track. Also, you can’t expect what you delegated to come back 100% as you envisioned in your head. Freelancers are not mind readers—but they are professionals, and they can help you achieve what you want if you describe your needs clearly. Expect them to understand 80% of what you envisioned, and then work together to align the remaining 20% to your goal. Why is delegating – and learning to let go of 100% control – critically important for growing a business? As long as you are the only one doing everything, you will quickly become the bottleneck in your company, or the “octopreneur” as I like to say (the entrepreneur with eight arms doing everything). It might feel good to do be the one who drafts every proposal and creates every social media post and fixes every broken link on the website, but as you grow, you need to start asking yourself “Is this really the best and highest use of my time?” Or would that time be better spent creating new products and services, networking, selling more, following up with clients, and learning from other entrepreneurs and mentors? The paradox of entrepreneurship is that many people start a business because they are really good at doing something, whether creating a product or a delivering set of services. But in order to grow, they have to cultivate a whole other set of skills that they often have no training in, including managing, delegating, and outsourcing. Their ability to grow their business depends on getting those things right, not the very thing they started the business to do. They can learn them by reading about productivity, working with a coach, or modeling more successful entrepreneurs who have teams. I hired an efficiency coach when I was growing my first business, Little Pim, and that set me up to be a delegation ninja – and teach others to do the same. What’s one example of something an entrepreneur can almost always delegate? Social media. You can use a platform like Buffer or Hootsuite to schedule posts in advance—and there are tons of talented freelance social media managers who can help whip up clever copy and strategic posts to fit your needs. What’s one thing an entrepreneur should usually not delegate? Personal writing—emails, proposals, etc—is in many ways an extension of your voice, so can be tricky to delegate. Make sure that anyone to whom you delegate a writing task is familiar with your style. Creating a style guide is a great exercise that can help you understand your own personal brand and better communicate it to others. As a treat for Fiverr readers, Pimsleur is making the “Delegate Your Way To The Top” chapter of Million Dollar Women available as a free download. Just head over to Julia’s website to download a copy. You’ll get insights on what Julia calls “BBT” – the “best and brightest time” for managing tasks – plus other great tips to help you better manage your time and position yourself for success in your field! !function(f,b,e,v,n,t,s){if(f.fbq)return;n=f.fbq=function(){n.callMethod? n.callMethod.apply(n,arguments):n.queue.push(arguments)};if(!f._fbq)f._fbq=n; n.push=n;n.loaded=!0;n.version='2.0';n.queue=[];t=b.createElement(e);t.async=!0; t.src=v;s=b.getElementsByTagName(e)[0];s.parentNode.insertBefore(t,s)}(window, document,'script','https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/fbevents.js'); fbq('init', '109484383045893'); // Insert your pixel ID here. fbq('track', 'PageView'); 120profit.com - https://120profit.com/?p=2672&utm_source=SocialAutoPoster&utm_medium=Social&utm_campaign=Tumblr

[strawwritesfic]

Leonard Hofstadter x Reader: Early

Summary: Never listen to your gut. It just might ruin something beautiful.

Rating/Tags: T (referenced Sheldon & Leonard; high school teacher!reader; lit teacher!reader)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Early

It wasn’t every day that a scientist from Cal Tech deigned to speak to a high school English teacher while said teacher pored over historical fiction in the local bookshop. Cal Tech was big. Cal Tech was smart. Cal Tech was–well, to put it lightly, a lot of the people from there came off as a little snooty to the rest of your kind. So when the adorable guy you saw getting coffee there almost every week came up to you, you were surprised to find he worked at Cal Tech. You’d been even more surprised when he’d stammered out a request for a date later in the week.

Not that you’d come off as much cooler with your hasty, embarrassed acceptance. It wasn’t like guys were just falling over themselves to ask the local lit teacher out to dinner. Leonard had bumbled off toward a skinny guy that only looked annoyed, only to hurry back to give you his phone number. All while you stood there clutching a stack of biographies on Abraham Lincoln.

In the four days that followed, you often wondered why you had agreed to go. You had not been on a real date since college. It was hard to find the time when you were so busy grading essays and drawing up quizzes over The Lord of the Flies. And what did someone that worked at Cal Tech want to hear about weak excuses for papers on symbolism? 

You had talked to Leonard for five whole minutes. That seemed about as much as someone at his level would be able to deal with someone at yours. Now, standing in your shower and dripping soap from the ends of your fingers, you wondered if you shouldn’t just text him and call the whole thing off.

The battle raged inside you, back and forth, back and forth, for the duration of your bathing. Standing underneath the stream of water, you argued that you could handle one date, and clearly he liked you. You had noticed him watching you before, on other trips to that same bookstore. Scrubbing at your skin with a loofah, you told yourself that that was probably a sign of him being some creep or perhaps even a serial killer. By the time you’d finished your shower, you were too anxious to think straight. Even if Leonard had meant to ask you out, he wasn’t going to find you in your right mind that afternoon.

Maybe, you thought with a spurt of hope, he had decided to cancel. Yes, that seemed likely. There might have been some emergency at his school that required his scientific expertise. He wouldn’t be able to use your date as an excuse to stay away. Just rescheduling would be enough. Then perhaps you could get your head back on straight before you had to see him again. 

Unfortunately, your cell phone remained where you had left it charging in the kitchen, forcing you to endure your nervousness for as long as it took to dry your skin and slip on a robe. Only then could you exit the bathroom in search of relief.

It was quiet in your apartment, something unusual for the summer. As you passed the window, you saw some of the complex children tossing water balloons at one another in the parking lot below. You almost wished you could join them. It seemed so much less stressful than your current situation. This was all you could think about for a few more steps, until walking past your front door caused you to notice a shadow sitting on the bench nearby it. 

It was only walking past again a few seconds later with your sadly voicemail-less phone that the shadow's presence really registered. It was vaguely human-shaped and had been there so long that it could not be someone dropping off a package. Your heart leaped into your mouth as unbidden thoughts of a lurker or an intruder paraded through your mind. There you were, all alone, on a sunny Saturday afternoon. The likelihood of a neighbor hearing your cries for help wasn’t very high, and what help would those kids be? 

You stood there, watching. The shadow sat there, unmoving.

On tiptoes, you turned on the spot and slunk back to your room. Wedged between the nightstand and the back wall was an aluminum baseball bat kept for this very reason.

You wrapped your fingers firmly around the bat’s handle, then slunk back to the front door. Whoever was out there was still sitting in the exact same spot as before. It appeared that they were waiting for you to answer the door, perhaps to head to your car to leave for your date. Well, you’d be giving them what they wanted, wouldn’t you? Plus some brain damage.

You flung the door open and didn’t hesitate. 

The form jumped–and thank goodness added a “holy crap!” for good measure.  The voice was familiar. You stopped with your bat still in the air over your shoulder.

“Huh?” you said intelligently.

On his feet and cowering against the bricks was none other than your date. Leonard squinted at the raised bat in your hands, his arms held up to beat off your attack–an attack that now wouldn’t come. 

You gasped as you dropped the bat onto the welcome mat. “Leonard?”

“Uh, yeah, hi?” His voice tremored upward into a question. “I can leave, if you want me to.”

“No, no, I–what are you doing here?”

To your surprise, Leonard blushed bright red. “I, well…are you sure you don’t want to just smack me with your bat? It might put me out of my misery.”

“Misery?” you echoed.

He looked away and began to play with his fingers. For a few seconds, you thought he was going to answer. Then he bunched his shoulders up around his ears, only to force them down with what appeared to be great effort. This effort was nothing compared to what it took him to speak, however: “I–well, I was excited for our date. So I headed out, and I sort of…ended up here. An hour and a half early.”

“You just…ended up here?”

“I was excited,” he repeated. “I-I did get you flowers.”

Hastily, Leonard bent, picked something up, and held out a small bouquet, wilted slightly in the California heat. They’d been sitting on the bench with him the whole time. If you’d seen those, you wouldn’t have gone after him with a baseball bat. Probably. In the wake of your mute acceptance of this gift, he squirmed again.

“I stopped and did that. Still showed up early. I can leave, if you want. Probably don’t want to…huh?”

He trailed away at your trembling. That was the final straw. Seeing his dark eyes narrow uncertainly at you through the lenses of his glasses had you laughing fit to burst. Almost hesitantly, Leonard smiled back.

“Did I say something funny?” he asked.

“No…No, sorry,” you said, straightening as you rubbed the moisture from your eyes. “I just thought you were going to cancel on me.”

“Cancel? Why would I do that? I’ve been looking forward to this all week!”

“You can’t have!” 

You had meant this (mostly) in jest. Leonard’s stiffening made plain that he had not taken it this way. Your grin faded. 

“Well, I mean…” Why had you brought this up to begin with? You were afraid he thought you were stupid, and now he absolutely would. “I’m just…I’m me. And you work at Cal Tech.”

“Have you seen the people at Cal Tech?” Leonard asked. “Believe me. You’re the better deal.”

You offered him a shy smile. Maybe it could have been bigger, except the heat was starting to get to you. It had to be getting to him, too, in that jacket of his. “Would you like to come in?”

“Oh, I–uh, I don’t really want to interrupt. I can just wait out here. It’s–it’s no big deal.”

“Leonard.” 

He stopped fidgeting enough to look up at you, mouth slightly agape. 

You smiled wider as you pulled the door open a bit. “I just need to take care of my hair. You can have some coffee at my table before we go. I really don’t mind,” you added at what looked to be an argument forming on his lips. After all, you were still in your robe, and those kids in the parking lot were beginning to stare.

He looked toward the open door, eyes darting from you to the living room and back. “If–If you insist.” Slipping past you into the air conditioning, Leonard twisted toward you with a smile of his own. “I thought you would cancel with me. My neighbor says I’m a freak!”

You smiled into your flowers. Maybe Leonard was a freak. Most guys didn’t turn up an hour and a half early for a first date. If he was a freak, though, he was a freak in the right way. He wanted to be there. He hadn’t asked you out on some dare from his beanpole of a companion. Even better, he thought more of you than the geniuses at his school. 

Forgetting your fears from earlier, you found a vase for your bouquet and coffee for Leonard, then headed back to the bathroom to finish getting ready. Funny how this took even longer now that you were enthusiastic about your date than it had when you’d been dreading it. That might have had something to do with stopping every five minutes to ask Leonard question, but he wasn’t complaining–and neither were you.

[strawwritesfic]

Howard Wolowitz x Female!Reader: Carnival

Summary: Sure, he can’t win a test of strength, but there are more important things in life to be won.

Rating/Tags: T (sexual references; implied sexual content; carnival; non-nerd!Reader; texting; bickering couple; bad date; Raj & Howard; Sheldon & Howard; not canon compliant; not anti-Bernadette; Reader does not get along with Penny; Reader does not get along with Sheldon; anniversary; established Howard/Reader)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Carnival

Howard Wolowitz was a man of simple pleasures: Cheesecake Factory hamburgers, walks to the comic book store, World of Warcraft marathons on the weekends, and beautiful women. Only the first three of these was he able to regularly indulge in. Since he had met you, the latter was available more frequently…but he was starting to realize there was nothing simple about dating you, pleasure or no. In fact, he was beginning to wonder if perhaps he ought to resign himself to a love life consisting of nothing but online avatars depicting beautiful women.

The trouble was, Howard liked you. He liked you a lot. He liked you so much that it scared the brightly-colored skinny jeans right off him. Never before had he met a woman so intimidating and so attractive at the same time. Whether it was the way your lips parted when you were laughing (even when it was at him) or your eyes sparked when you were mad (not so much when it was at him), he was entranced. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t think he’d have you around much longer, because he was seeing a lot more of the latter than the former these days. Tonight's date was turning out no different.

“A carnival,” you muttered to yourself as you drove through the flat landscape just outside the city. “Really? A carnival?”

You kept saying that, over and over, in that infuriating way girls had that made all men worry over whether or not to risk some reply. As you were nearing your destination, Howard’s restraint found itself under considerable strain. He squirmed uncomfortably in the passenger seat.

“Is there…a problem? With the carnival?” he asked finally, with some attempt at a smile, nervous as it was.

“Why would there be a problem with the carnival, sweetheart?” you asked brightly.

“Well, you just keep repeating the word to yourself.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You returned your attention to steering, and added quietly, “You’d think we’d go somewhere a little more adult for our one-year anniversary, that’s all.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” you sang.

Whatever was eating you was very clearly not nothing. For the duration of the trip–all twenty minutes of it–you continued to grumble under your breath. 

Howard drummed his fingers nervously against his knees in silence. Nothing. You’d said it was nothing. Once you got there, you’d have a good time. You weren’t the sort of girl to break up with your boyfriend on your first anniversary…right? He was being silly.

But if that were the case, then why, when the two of you got out of your car and headed for the blinking display in the distance, did you purposely step away from him when he tried to hold your hand? His palm wasn’t sweaty. He checked. You didn’t so much as grace him with a glance when he bought your entry tickets, let alone a smile. You merely pounded off down the lamp-lit corridor, looking quite pretty in the constantly shifting lights, but also quite angry.

“[Name], seriously,” Howard said when he caught up. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing’s the matter with me,” you answered, but you did so while scowling and crossing your arms over your chest.

He almost laughed. “You’re not a very good actress.”

“And you’re not a very smart engineer!” you burst out suddenly. Before he could recover, you were barreling on, “You really can’t figure it out? Really? How old are we supposed to be? And where did you choose to take us for our date? A carnival!”

He blinked. And blinked. And blinked some more. Then he smirked. “Oh, I get it. You don’t think the carnival is very adult. Well, that’s just silly!” This time, he did laugh, with relief, sidling closer to add in a low voice, “There are plenty of adult things to do at the fair. For instance, there’s the tunnel of love…”

“I am not screwing you in the tunnel of love, Howard!” you shouted, so loudly that several nearby heads swiveled in your direction.

Normally he admired your brash approach to sex–really admired it–but maybe here wasn’t the best place to talk about that. There were kids around, after all. 

He smiled sheepishly before pushing you further down the grassy lane. “That’s not what I meant. Well, okay, it is. But come on, [Name]. You told me to pick a place for our anniversary, and you didn’t like my first idea.”

“It was the Cheesecake Factory! You really think I wanted to spend my anniversary watching you ogle that waitress?”

Howard did not protest this blatant mischaracterization–because it wasn’t. There would have been ogling. Two beautiful women to look at on one evening? As if he should have been so lucky. Obviously, he hadn’t been. “Look, I had that plan. You shot it down. Now we’re here instead, with no Penny in sight.”

“You’ve never heard of dancing? Or dinner somewhere else? A movie, maybe?”

“Well, sure, those are the suggestions Penny gave me when I asked her–”

“You talked to Penny? About our anniversary?”

“She knows what girls like you like!”

“I am nothing like Penny.”

“You’re a little like Penny.” 

Your hatred for Penny was well known within Howard’s group of friends (even by Penny), but honestly, was now the time? Especially when Howard had gone out of his way to not involve her in the evening. 

“She’s a romantic. She knows what women in general like, but,” he added swiftly, “I know how much you hate her, so I used Sheldon’s idea instead.”

“Sheldon’s idea?”

He could not believe he was having this argument here, with the delicious smells of frying corn dogs and funnel cakes wafting through the air. Whatever happened to giggling and clinging to each other going through the haunted house? Why did there always have to be an argument?

“Yes. Sheldon’s idea,” he said. “Admittedly, he did say it was so we could be among our own kind–the clowns–but I thought it sounded fun, and it wasn’t anything she-who-must-not-be-named mentioned. So could we please just try to have a good time?”

You didn’t say anything, but you did follow him, so Howard figured that you had at least agreed to try. That turned out to be exactly what you had agreed to: trying, and nothing more. You did eat a corn dog…grudgingly. You did kiss him inside the tunnel…while scowling. And you did go with him into the House of Mirrors…you just didn’t come out with him. 

Seeing you upset wasn’t exactly the way he had planned this night to go. No, his plan had involved a lot more smiling, a bit of inappropriate touching, and maybe some hanky-panky when you two got back to your apartment. None of that appeared to be on horizon now, and Howard was starting to panic.

“Let’s go try out the games now, all right?” he said, desperation coloring his words as surely as his vice-grip on your hand did.

You didn’t try to slip away this time, just sighed. “Howard, I’m tired. Can’t we go home?”

“And do what?” he asked, letting go of himself.

You stuck your lower lip out and shrugged, a sure sign that if he let you drive the two of you home, you would fake a headache and send him on his way as soon as you arrived.

“You haven’t even attempted to have a good time tonight. At least let me try. Here, I bet I could win you one of those bunnies." 

He said this as you passed by one of the game stalls. This one was a little bit emptier, perhaps due to the scary-looking muscular carnie running it. The attraction was a strength tester, hammer, bell, and all, and almost all the prizes–the aforementioned pink stuffed bunnies–remained hanging from their posts at the sides of the tower.

“Howie, I don’t know…”

Your following bitten lip was the last straw. He crammed a roll of ones into the carnie’s outstretched palm, rolled up his sleeves, and picked up the waiting mallet. 

“I think I know what I’m doing,” Howard told you over his shoulder. “Everyone knows these really don’t test your strength. It’s all in where you hit the pedal. As an engineer, I know the exact place. It’s simple physics. I’m guaranteed to win you a prize.”

He swung down with all his scrawny might, then waited, watching, listening. No sound followed. No ding. The weight went up two notches, hovered there, then…fell right back down to the pedal.

“Let me guess,” growled the carnie, “y’ didn’t mean to hit it there.”

Normally, Howard would have agreed. Normally, he would have tried again and again and again until he finally managed to impress the woman he had been seeing romantically (and sexually) for a year. But this time he couldn’t. Not anymore. If this date had proven anything, it was that Howard Wolowitz could never impress a woman like [F Name] [L Name].

He set the hammer down, carefully. Then he walked over to you, carefully.

“Meet you back at the car,” he muttered as he stared past you.

To the car, however, was not where he went. A long, oppressively quiet drive back to the city wasn’t going to help matters. Nothing would. At least a plate of funnel cake would make him feel less like throwing up that corn dog from earlier, though. Or maybe more. Still couldn’t make him feel worse than Raj texting him at that exact moment to check in:

Hey, man. How’s it going with [Name]?

Terrible, Howard replied.

Doesn’t like the carnival, huh? I knew you should have listened to Penny. [Name] likes that sort of thing, too.

[Name] is nothing like Penny.

She’s exactly like Penny, and she hates the date, doesn’t she?

Fine. Yes. [Name] hates the date. Does that make you feel better about yourself?

A little bit. I always said she was too good for you.

Raj had a point. Clearly Howard had no idea what he was doing. Of course he didn’t! He’d never had a one-year anniversary in his entire life. Not that Raj had either. 

Heart sinking, Howard crammed a piece of funnel cake into his mouth. His stomach churned. If he tried to force anything else into his down his throat, it would all come out, and wasn’t that just the way he wanted you to see him before you dumped him? Better to start bracing for the inevitable breakup waiting for him in the car. He hopped off the bench to throw his plate into the overflowing trashcan nearby, only to run straight into one of those stuffed bunnies from before.

“Hey,” said a familiar voice.

Howard cast his eyes above the pink ears settled against two shapely breasts to see your face. This was of very little comfort to him, given the circumstances.

“Hey,” he answered sulkily, then brushed by to finish what he had been doing before you’d so rudely interrupted.

You followed, still clutching the rabbit. 

Howard snorted. “New boyfriend win that for you? Let me guess. He’s the carnie.”

“No.” 

Your voice was soft. Apparently you weren’t offended at the idea of sleeping with some muscle-bound weirdo, then, so long as he was muscle-bound. Howard rolled his eyes as he stalked off toward the parking lot. 

“Howie, wait,” you called after him.

Against his better judgement, he did.

You ran up, paused, then thrust the rabbit into his chest. “I won him for you.”

A sardonic smile graced his lips before he noticed that there wasn't hint of sarcasm in your eyes. In fact, they were big and wide and beautiful and how could he be mad at you when you looked at him like that?

“You…did?” he asked as he hesitantly took the stuffed animal.

You averted your eyes. “Yeah. I mean, you wanted one really badly.”

“For you! Because I wanted you to get something out of this date!”

“I know.” You took a deep breath and forced your gaze back up to him. “I did. I’m sorry. I guess I just had so many expectations about this date that I…I sort of ruined it, didn’t I?”

“A little. This is cute, though. You really won it for–for me?”

“Who else am I gonna win it for?”

“Your new boyfriend?”

You responded by punching him in the shoulder–but softly. “The only boyfriend I want is you, okay? So long as you don’t want to break up with me over me being such a brat tonight.”

His first thought was to say of course not! When was he ever going to find another girl like you to agree to spend time with him? Or have sex with him for that matter? Howard had never had any luck in that department before. But he stopped that thought dead in its tracks, because he had got a wonderful idea.

“Well,” he said, fidgeting with the rabbit’s cheap plastic eye, “I am pretty sad. I went to all this work. If you wanted to make it up to me when we got back to your apartment, I wouldn’t say no.”

“Why did I just know you were going to try to guilt me into sex?” You shook your head, but at the same time, took his hand in your of your own volition for the first time that evening. “Come on, geek. We’ve got business to take care of.”

“Yes ma’am! And Mr. Bun can watch.”

You shot him a smile. Maybe the dumping wasn't inevitable after all. You did know Howard, and he knew you. A year was a long time. There was the slimmest chance that this was how the date had been destined to go from the very beginning. He’d got one of his one year anniversary wishes in the end, and if the hanky-panky was all he got, Howard certainly wasn’t complaining.