August 6 2012, 4pm
You know when you’re having a bad day in school and that everything was shit and that you wanted to kill everyone in your path
Then you check your email and see this update:
New Story from Tomasina,
Title: The Interview
Category: Big Bang Theory
Character(s): Sheldon C. & Amy Farrah Fowler
Rating: Rated: K
Summary: Just finished parking the DeLorean in the garage. Brought an
interesting tidbit from the future back with me I thought might interest
In an instant your anger dissipates as you read with full amusement and that you suddenly wish this really was from the distant future.
August 3 2012, 5pm
All right people
SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE HELL IS WITH ALL THOSE SHAMY FANFIC ANGST FEST RECENTLY? DO YOU EVEN THINK IT’S FUN TO BE EMOTIONALLY DISTRESSED OVER A FICTIONAL COUPLE AND THAT YOU WISH YOU COULD JUST DIE WITH ALL THESE HEART-BREAKING STORIES/CHAPTERS?
As if I didn’t write anything angsty these past few weeks. HaHa. *points to herself then mouths “hypocrite”.
July 30 2012, 10am
Counterfactuals, Chapter 1: News Item
Disclaimer: I may *be* Sheldon Cooper but I do not *own* Sheldon Cooper, or anything else for that matter.
Summary: In a World where Sheldon Cooper and Amy Farrah Fowler are about to have a baby, what color is the sky?
Amy was drunk. Should someone ask she would openly admit it, however, it was unlikely anyone would inquire. Her intoxicated state was obvious both in the glassy appearance of her eyes and the two empty glasses littering her personal space. Amy Farrah Fowler sat alone at a linen covered table in a forgotten corner of the ballroom. Far from the dance floor and yet too close to the open bar. Two screaming orgasms could testify to the proximity of the vice.
Amy did not get drunk very often; she had horrible luck with it. The very first time she ever drunk to the point of intoxication she had vomited in the back seat of her Cousin Aaron’s car with enough pressure to not only do a spot on impression of Regan MacNeil but also burst blood vessels in both of her eyes. For a week and a half afterwards every time she looked in the mirror the Linda Blair eyes looking back at her were a reminder of how foolish she had been. The second time she had been truly drunk she kissed Sheldon. Both memories were vivid and typically helped her stop at one drink. But not tonight. Nothing but getting drunk could dull the pain that was this wedding. She retracted that statement. A lobotomy would also render her unaware of the evening – and of everything else for that fact. The gravity of the controversial medical procedure was soon lost on Amy as she remembered one of the many quotes attributed to Dorothy Parker: “I’d rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.” And then she remembered one of Ms. Parker’s actual wisecracks: “Men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses.” Amy signaled for another drink.
Intellectually she knew the poem was hyperbole, she could give numerous examples of women who both wore glasses and had been propositioned. The bride was a perfect example, the new Doctor Sarah Watson nee Sawyer beamed from behind feminine frames. Frankly this did not help quash the desire to imbibe. Amy was happy for her colleague, truly she was. She was at the reception was she not? If it was anyone else in her department she would have simply sent a polite card, the bare minimum of social protocol. But Amy liked Sarah. In fact she considered her to be her third best bestie – after Penny and Bernadette, of course. She had many interests beyond her wedding, fiancée, and romance. Amy appreciated this, unfortunately the wedding was bringing up every awkward question and uncontrollable feeling Sarah Sawyer – Watson had been too polite to ask in person.
The wedding itself was not what had Amy Farrah Fowler floating in coffee liqueur. She had a boyfriend, thankyouverymuch. Unlike the other drunk single women lingering along the walls Amy wasn’t desperate and lonely. She had a companion. She had a beautiful amor platonicus. No, the guilty fury that laced through her was not over the want of a partner.
Sarah was pregnant. Six months round and proud and glowing. The grey sundress with the jeweled neckline she had said ‘I do’ in (“because” as Sarah had joked, “let’s face it, the jig is up”) had the silhouette of a python having swallowed a basketball. Neither bride nor groom appeared to care. They both looked so happy. So goddamn happy. It made Amy ache. Aside from a general love of girly fashion that made wedding magazines the equivalent of pornography Amy Farrah Fowler had no interest in getting married. None at all. Even less now that she had met Sheldon. She had her companion – intellectual equal, counterfactuals partner. She had a congress of the mind, she needed no congress of people at a silly outdated ritual that society tried to tell her she should live and die for. No thank you. It made other people happy and Amy was happy for them, but personally she was not interested.
No, what brought Amy physical pain was the fact Sarah and James were going to have a baby. More than anything else in the world Amy wanted a child. For as long as she could remember there was not a time she did not want to be a mother. A little bundle to nurture and to teach and to love. When she had been younger it seemed as though she would have all the time in the world to find a mate and procreate. Now it seemed time had slipped past her and all she had to show for it was an impressive body of research that could nonetheless not love her back, not in the agápē sense of the word.
Once, early in their relationship, she and Sheldon had discussed having children. He had viewed it as a duty to humanity to produce and raise a Homo sapiens novus, rearing him or her in the proper scientific light for a better tomorrow. Amy had agreed whole heartedly. Not so much with the Jor-El undertones but with the idea of having a child. Sheldon’s child. Even then she knew that his child would be special, now after over a year of dating she knew in just how many ways.
Sheldon Cooper was smart.
That was the absolute first thing she knew about him, he was so very intelligent. Then she learned he was funny, and loyal, and sweet… in his own way. And then after a conversation with either Leonard or Penny or both, and invoking the name of his mother he had dropped the baby idea. Completely allowed it to flourish and flat line in less than a month. It had broken her heart a bit. She had wanted a child so badly and he had ruined it – for all time. Now she did not want simply any infant but his infant; a little grey eyed brown haired humanoid adorable and innocent as its father. And the offer, now retracted, was unlikely to be open for conversation again.
Sheldon was also stubborn.
Amy watched as Sarah and James swayed together, slightly off the beat of the Jazz Standard the DJ was blaring. James’ hand gently rested on Sarah’s round stomach, he gazed down at his unborn child with such emotion the neurobiologist had to look away.
Then and there, At Sarah Sawyer-Watson’s wedding reception, wearing a sunny yellow dress her Bestie Penny had forced her to buy, Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler pulled out a pen and made a decision. On a reasonably dry serviette she wrote:
And then she doodled the compounds in her drinks in order to add context to this plan in the morning.
She was rather intoxicated.
Normally a text message sent to him after his bedtime would result in very strong words from one Sheldon Cooper. This was a rare exception, even with eyes bleary from sleep Sheldon could make out Amy Farrah Fowler’s mobile number on the tiny glowing screen of his smart phone. The Relationship Agreement was very clear on this point, but tonight they were operating in a slightly different system – under the auspices of the Guilt Exception.
He should be with his girlfriend at this moment, engaging in the social protocol of a friend’s wedding. He had intended to go, planned on it, confirmed it. After bailing on one wedding and the fiasco regarding Leonard in its aftermath he had decided not to allow the situation to repeat. He would attend the next wedding she was invited to even if it was without anyone from his own age cohort. Even if it was without scientists. Even if the bride and/or groom had a liberal arts degree. Oh the humanities! He had decided. Yet when the opportunity presented itself in the form of Doctor Sarah Sawyer and Doctor James Watson’s wedding – a neurobiologist and a geneticist, he had to give a lecture. The conference had come up suddenly and had been more non-negotiable than attending a wedding with one’s girlfriend. Worse yet Leonard was also in attendance. Howard was visiting Bernadette’s family and Raj was … Raj. None of the men he would even consider consenting to escorting Amy were available, leaving his poor neurobiologist to attend the wedding solo. An act lonely for the subject, disgraceful for the boyfriend, and an all-around social stigma. By causing her such discomfort, albeit unintentionally, Sheldon sought to rectify the situation as best he could. His phone lines were open and he asked her to text him when she left for the wedding and when she returned home safely and if she ever needed intellectual stimulation. Judging by the time, Amy was informing him that the reception was over and she was home safely. He hoped. In his limited experience a phone call at this hour was the product of death or a ‘drunk dial’. Neither situation appealed to him. Wearily Sheldon opened the tiny envelope symbol that meant new message.
Teh opposite of stripper pole is feces.
Sheldon stared at the message for a long moment before replying.
You will have to defend that in the morning. May I assume you are home?
Sheldon replaced his cellular on the nightstand and turned off the light. He rolled over and briefly debated with himself. Was Amy’s statement A) an exciting new intellectual game akin to counterfactuals or B) a sign she was inebriated again. Regardless he wished he was with her – to either learn of the rules of this new exercise as she decided them or to keep her to a one drink minimum. His final musing before he drifted off to sleep was not about the nature of the universe but the new dress Amy had purchased with Penny and if it fit like a derivative – lying tangent to her curves.
Amy Farrah Fowler was hung over. At some point in the night her teeth had put on little fuzzy sweaters and her equilibrium decided to take a leave of absence. But she was still in her party dress! It reassured her, as did the fact she did not throw up or kiss anyone last night. Point to Dr. Fowler. She stumbled to her refrigerator and pulled out the carton of orange juice. In a rare moment of immaturity she took a long drag from the bottle and grimaced. Her mouth tasted quite unpleasant – worse than the traditional cringe worthy combination of Orange Juice and Mint Toothpaste. Half a point Dr. Fowler.
Replacing the carton on the shelf she allowed the refrigerator door to close under its own weight. There on the door was the yellow cocktail napkin from last night, pinned to the center of the door haphazardly by one of the childish alphabet magnets she had received as a “white elephant” gift last office party. She’d found them charmingly juvenile, and using them to make words that did not repeat any letters was rather amusing. The list was brought to her this midmorning by the letter R and several doodles of ethanol.
Amy had half expected a change of heart, but in the cold, hard light of hangover she still saw no problem with her plan. In fact she felt more resolved than she had last night full of Dutch courage. Nodding to herself with determination and then stopping because it shook the room she crumpled the serviette and dropped it in the trash. Alright, Amy Farrah Fowler, let’s get you pregnant. She yawned and then caught sight of herself in the microwave oven. Eesh. Alright Amy Farrah Fowler, let’s get you bathed.
Sheldon and I both experience physical pain when a random fact is not fully explained. And so, may I present some Interesting Facts:
1. Regan MacNeil is the name of the little girl who is possessed in the book/movie The Exorcist; she was portrayed by Linda Blair.
2. “Men seldom make passes
at girls who wear glasses”
is from Dorothy Parker’s book Not So Deep as a Well (1937), it is titled “News Item”.
3. Amor platonicus is the Latin for Platonic Love, which originated in the works of Plato.
4. Agápē is a Greek word for love; it is one of the classic four types of love. It refers to love that is unconditional. The other types are Eros – passionate desire with sensual desires. Philia – Friendship and affection, virtuous love, like the type one feels towards friends, family, and the community. And Storge – natural affection, such as the kind between parents and children.
5. Jor-El is the name of Superman’s father. Superman’s birth name was not Clark Kent but Kal-El.
6. The opposite of a stripper pole is feces: My best friend and I play a game in which we try to think of the true opposite of something. It is not the whole The opposite of Dad is mom, it is more than that. The opposite of Dad is an iPod nano, and well, the opposite of a stripper pole is feces.
7. The term white elephant refers to a gift whose maintenance costs exceed its usefulness. The term derives from the story that the kings of Siam did this to courtiers, in order to ruin the recipient by the cost of its maintenance.
8. When you drink an alcoholic beverage you are actually drinking ethanol. Whip that little tidbit out next Thirsty Thursday.
9. Dutch Courage is not actually a slam on the Netherlands but is the nickname of a type of Gin distilled there and in Belgium. Consuming this Dutch gin made people behave with drunken courage, thus it was Dutch courage.
10. The summary, in which I ask what color is the sky, is a reference to the TV show Cheers. Cliff would often go off on these long strange monologues and Frasier would just look at him and dryly say “Hello in there, Cliff. Tell me, what color is the sky in your world.” My father references Cheers (and M*A*S*H) as if it were on today and he has often asked me this question.
July 30 2012, 10am
Counterfactuals, Chapter 2: Homo sapiens novus
Disclaimer: I may *be* Sheldon Cooper but I do not *own* Sheldon Cooper, or anything else for that matter.
Summary: In a World where Sheldon Cooper and Amy Farrah Fowler are about to have a baby, what color is the sky?
Anything Can Happen Thursday was an extremely vague but exceptionally apt title. On Thursdays so named anything did happen. Bernadette and Howard, along with Raj were at wine club, a habit started for the engineer and his bride’s wedding and continued for the sake of Raj who needed the vino for the veritas but also the calming force of Howard to keep the physicist from making a fool of himself. Penny and Leonard were at a baseball game. It was, they both protested, not a date. For Leonard it was simply about statistics and physics the players and fans had mastered without realizing they were learning. For Penny it was about beer, hot dogs, and men in tight pants. Thanks to the implications of anything, circumstances had Sheldon and Amy relaxing at Sheldon’s abode. Enjoying take out, a documentary on deep space, and each other’s company.
Especially each other’s company.
It had been four days since Sheldon’s inescapable breach of boyfriend protocol, although Amy insisted he was forgiven and his alternative measures had been both thoughtful and adequate he still felt unsatisfied. Not guilty per say, but the situation continued to bother him like a loose thread in his collar. Thus he offered physical contact, hoping it would both please Amy and assuage himself. Thus he sat in his spot; Amy Farrah Fowler nestled under his chin, her dark head resting on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her waist.
In general it would be correct to say Sheldon Lee Cooper disliked being touched. That being said there was something about the neurobiologist currently touching him in five places that was an exception to the prior statement. Sheldon cold not protest Amy’s touch – he tried but as time and occasions of contact increased he found his objections hollow. Amy had ceased to listen for the most part and in truth Sheldon began feeling comfortable with the contact. He… liked it – on rare occasions he stipulated firmly. This occasion for cuddling was a figurative mea culpa for missing Amy’s friend’s wedding. It had nothing to do with the fact he had missed her whilst he was away. Nothing at all. In no way related. He did not miss physical contact; he did not initiate physical contact. When she left for the night he did not miss her warmth, or the smell of her – the scent of soap, detergent, and shampoo. He was not engaging in this cuddle session because he had missed holding her or because he had gown found of this behavior. He was, he reminded himself and the small voices of his friend his imagination supplied, that he was merely fulfilling his role as Boyfriend to the best of his abilities and to the letter of the Relationship Agreement.
Against his neck Sheldon felt the silken caress of Amy’s hair as she turned her head to look up at him. He wondered I she would ask him to release her and then wondered why he did not want her to. Most illogical.
“Sheldon,” She said softly, “I’ve been thinking.” He craned his neck to look down at her. Such a foolish, common phrase in the English language.
“I should certainly hope so.” He replied in a tone he had been told was glib.
“The rumination was on a particular topic. I wish to revisit a discussion we had early in our acquaintance, prior to our current status.”
“I am speaking of our discussion of children, more specifically the discussion revolving around producing our own offspring.” She did not ask him if he remembered as it was a useless question. Instead she waited for a response indicating he had followed her train of thought.
“Yes, I remember, we discussed how our child would be a Homo sapiens novus and a great boon for humanity.”
“Yes.” Amy said carefully. He could feel the muscles in her body contract in the physiological signs of nervousness. As a baser reaction, undoubtedly evolved from man’s socio-biological need to protect, he held Amy tighter in an attempt to sooth.
“I have been thinking about all the reasons to have a child and come to the conclusion that I would like to procreate. I wish to become a mother and I find that the desire predates our initial conversation. Being a mother is something I have wanted for a while, our discussion only served to further solidify my reasons and resolve. That and I have passed my half birthday which is significant in the fact it marks that I have lost another six months of sexual prime and fertility.
“I see.” Sheldon said, looking seriously at his girlfriend. In truth he did not see, not in the same way she saw. He understood the words Amy was using – she wished to have a child. He also understood that the implications of that desire were felt differently by her than by him. This was in part because of the nature of children – the work the mother did in producing a healthy infant versus the work a father did. It was also her desire. One of long standing she had said. What he did not understand was this feeling he was feeling, as if his heart was expanding faster than the universe and at the same time dropping into the proverbial pit of his stomach – metaphorically speaking.
“When last we discussed offspring you requested we not follow through on the conversation. I respect your feelings but I am curious if they have changed in the subsequent year and a half. Your response will dictate my next action.”
“Oh?” Amy sat up so that they may see eye to eye literally. She nodded.
“I want to have a child and I have decided to finally act on this desire, science has provided the modern woman with several options. I also wish to continue our relationship. I care for you very much Sheldon and I value our time together greatly. I do not want to lose this connection that we have for I feel no one ever truly knew me, never truly understood me until I met you. I wish to remain in our current agreement, although it lacks a child clause.” Sheldon had no idea how to respond as he had no idea what emotion he was currently feeling. He decided no response was the best response and hoped Amy’s continued speech would clarify things for him.
“I see two optimal options. The first being you agree to help me in this endeavor by graciously donating the semen required for insemination. We remain boyfriend and girlfriend as already outlined with additional provisions made to outline how involved you wish to be in the child’s life.”
“And option two.” He could tell Amy had spent a significant amount of time thinking about this.
“The other option is that we remain boyfriend and girlfriend as already outlined and I receive artificial insemination from an anonymous donor. If you wished to be involved in the child’s life I would allow you to be involved in the selection of the sperm but you would ultimately not have a connection to the offspring. This might be wise decision if you still wish to abide by your mother’s moral outlines regarding childbearing and matrimony. You would not technically be fathering a child out of wedlock.”
For a long moment they sat in silence. Then quietly Sheldon asked,
“And if I did not want anything to do with a child?” Sheldon was not the best at recognizing emotion, however even he could see how Amy’s face fell. She looked bereft. Inflicting physical harm might have in fact made her appear less wounded. She looked down at her hands, wringing in her lap as she made her response.
“I would have to sincerely choose between you and a child. A decision I do not want to have to make as it would be very emotionally troubling.” Sheldon placed a long finger under her chin and slowly lifted her face to look at him once again. He had seen the same action in several of the “Romantic” movies he had been coerced into watching in his life. Amy’s pupils dilated behind her glasses at his touch. Sheldon licked his lips, buying himself a little more time to respond.
“You have given this a lot of thought but your proposition has taken me off guard. You undoubtedly want a response but I cannot give you one at this time.” Amy tried to look away but Sheldon held her, his hand still resting under her chin. “I need to consider your offer and the variables involved. It will… I will need some time.” Amy nodded.
“I will try not to take too long in my decision.”
“Sheldon, unlike trying a new restaurant for date night, this is a decision that, if successful will bring another life into the world and fundamentally change my existence if not yours as well. Take as much time as you need in order to be sure.” She said rising from the sofa.
“Where are you going?” Amy was collecting her things.
“I have dropped a rhetorical bomb on you and I think it best if I left now so that you may cope fully with the effects.” She crossed to the door. In four long strides Sheldon was there with her, his hand on her hand which was on the knob.
“You’re leaving?” He asked. Amy studied him for a moment.
“For tonight.” She said. “You asked for time to think and I am giving it to you. Unless you take forever to decide we will be in contact again, however until you have made up your mind I think it best we do not see each other. I do not wish to contaminate your conclusion.” Sheldon nodded, he respected her decision. She was a condition he could not fully control in this experiment and her removing such a complication only endeared her to him. She was a woman of true science. Their gaze remained connected for a beat and then, with a blink the moment passed. Sheldon slowly removed his hand and allowed her to open the front door.
“You are right, of course, Amy Farrah Fowler.” On impulse he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead in a gesture his mother often made when he was upset. She would “kiss it and make it better”, a false statement but a comforting gesture. One he offered to Amy without thinking. She blinked. “Safe travels.” She blinked again.
“Thank you Sheldon, good night.” He shut the door behind her. His lips were tingling.
1. In Vino Veritas is Latin for “in wine there is truth”. in (“in”) + vino, the ablative singular of vinum (“wine”) + veritas (“truth”).
2. Mea Culpa is Latin for my fault; it is frequently used in a Catholic context. Mea is a possessive adjective and Culpa is a nominative singular.
3. I say socio-biological not because women inherently need man’s protection but because men inherently need to protect women for their own evolutionary interests. That’s right fellas, when it comes to genetics and the human race, who runs the world? Girls.
July 22 2012, 1am
Only four days before the sign-up due!
Calling all those who are interested to join as an author, artist and beta-reader for this year’s Qualia:Shamy Fan Fiction Fest.
To know more about Qualia, visit this primer.
For the rules and guidelines, click here.
You can also be a beta-reader by messaging us here.
For deadlines, visit this page.
Current participants list: here.
Don’t be shy, we know you want to.
Long live the Shamy!