Futurama   Planet Express Employee Lounge
The Futurama Message Board

Design and Support by Can't get enough Futurama
Help Search Futurama chat Login Register

PEEL - The Futurama Message Board    Melllvar's Erotic Friend Fiction    Uh oh, newbie fanfic! « previous next »
 Topic locked! 
Author Topic: Uh oh, newbie fanfic!  (Read 13206 times)
Pages: 1 ... 16 17 18 [19] 20 Print

Space Pope
« Reply #720 on: 04-11-2005 07:30 »
« Last Edit on: 04-11-2005 07:30 »

Okay, so first I cried when you said this update would be short, but then I was filled with this nauseating sort of glee when you said you'd be updating more frequently; then I thought back to a time when you used to update more frequently, then I thought you were lazy for not updating so frequently now, then I realized that I haven't updated in, like, 2 months; then I realized that you're not lazy at all, but that I am; then I cried, then I remembered that I was supposed to be reading this update, but by now I was really tired from crying and moping so much, so I took a nap, and had a dream about a walrus named Tyrone; then I woke up and realized that Tyrone is a strange name for a walrus, then I pondered that for a while, then I realized that I was supposed to be reading this update, then I cried because I wasted so much time not reading your update, then I needed some ice cream to cheer me up, then I watched a rerun of Designing Women, then I realized how pathetic that was and remembered that I was supposed to be reading this story, so I did.

It was short, yeah, but it was good. I'm sorta confused, but that doesn't take too much (  wink). I think if I reread it, I'll pick up on some more, but I have a vague idea of what's going on, at least. Anyway, not much to say about this part. It was some set-up stuff that was well-written. I liked this part in particular...

Cuddlebug felt a thrill surge through his nauseatingly adorable frame. Dodging past the gangly legs of the members of the ridiculously tall species, the Nibblonian slipped quietly into the Third Door.

It was funny...I don't know why, it just was.

Anyway, sorry I couldn't have offered a more in-depth review (oh...and sorry for my unecessary, deeply confusing rant). Oh well, just know I'm waiting for more, as always. I can't wait to see how this all ties together in the end. And, just out of curiosity, what's your word/page count now? Page-wise, you gotta be in the 100s by now, right? Just a dorky question from one "writer" to another SUPER WRITERTM (patent pending).

EDIT: TOTPD (*Begins to do a dance that is a cross between the wave and the hokey pokey...I like to call it the, get this: Wavy Pokey! Hoozah!*)


Delivery Boy
« Reply #721 on: 04-11-2005 11:25 »

Grettings Layla I'm glad to hear that your felling better and that chapter of your story was very interesting can't wait for the next update.  i'm also wrighting to tell you that i'am wrighting the reast of my fic and the sequel as well that is called chroncles of the quiet one. so if you have any ideas let me know viea e-mail or by posting on my thread. later days

Urban Legend
« Reply #722 on: 04-11-2005 13:46 »
« Last Edit on: 04-11-2005 13:46 »

Welcome back, Layla.   It seems like you haven’t lost any of your touch.  Some comments:

With a start, she realized he had begun to doubt she was the real Leela.
  I liked that little part.  You didn’t run too far with it, and that's just fine.  The glimmer of suspicion in Fry is believable.

“Now there’s the Fry I know and love, most of the time.”

I’m not sure what I think of this line.  I doubt Leela would ever use the word ‘love’ in canon, but things have changed a bit throughout the course of your story... I don’t know.

Regardless, I think you write Fry and Leela well, as friends above coworkers above anything else.  Was anyone else amused by how both Fry and Amy immediately wanted to play I Spy?  Also, Leela likes lime green, a nice hidden little reference thing...

As for the little part you posted recently; I’m glad you’re getting back to some Nibblonian stuff.  That has been on the back burner for quite some time; maybe we’ll finally find out what’s going on [/hopeful]

Keep up the great writing, Layla.  You must keep writing, since after the part I just posted, I’m on a sort of hiatus.  Take the reins!  Take ‘em!  Now!  (bails out)    tongue

Urban Legend
« Reply #723 on: 04-11-2005 13:56 »

Hey! Get back here Berges! No hiatus for you! No. Hiatus. For. You!

On a side note, Yay for the ity bity update! A little confusing what with the daisy and all. Did the Nibblonian really wake him up with a flower or was that just a flower shaped object? I demand answers!

Bending Unit
« Reply #724 on: 04-11-2005 15:14 »

i think that the daisy is the third eye of nibblonians..
welcome back, layla! nice chapters, update more!

« Reply #725 on: 04-11-2005 15:19 »

Booyah i got to read two updates in a row which makes feel good even if everyone else was abl;e to read them before. it's amazing what can happen when you didn't get a chance to check up on things.

bth chapters are bad ass as usual and that little explanation was SNAP.

any yeah gonna assume that the flower thing was a scanner of some sort and i look forward to more of this fic


« Reply #726 on: 04-11-2005 16:07 »

Whow, that was totally awesome! The way you do Fry's sudden modd swings is really nicely done. I look forward to reading the next part. Very well done, oh and glad your all better.


Starship Captain
« Reply #727 on: 04-11-2005 18:09 »

Nice work Layla.

You found the way to make me forget that I was stuck at my lousy job today.
Thank you.

Keep it up.


Bending Unit
« Reply #728 on: 04-16-2005 23:26 »

I'm so touched by your continuing support, and I'm excited because things are coming together. I'm going to hold off on updating til tomorrow becauseI want to tie more in to this update.

Meanwhile, I'm catching up on my replies:
Boy, it's been a while since I did this...

Venus:I'm glad you liked the shippy (of course you did silly shippy person who capitalizes Shippy) and I'm very glad to be back. Updates will be every weekend at the least and hopefully more often. It's a bit hard to get back into this. Oh, and thanks for catching my mistake!

Philp_J_Fry: It's funny, you're getting really thorough with your reviews, and I love it! I'm glad you felt Fry and Leela were in character, because I wasn't to sure about that. It's getting soo dramatic. I feel like I've lost control of this thing. I'm glad you liked the dig at FOX. It's an easy target here. I'm thrilled you enjoyed the Fry/Yancy stuff, as I rewrote it several times. I was happy with the last line too. Sometimes phrases just feel right to me.

N-o-r: Hey, bud. You know, I have a funny question for you. Don't answer if you don't want. When did you decide to start following this story? Knowing you(sorta), I'm sure the opening put you off. Why'd you stick with it?
Naturally I wrote that crazy response just for you. (Thanks for pointing out that error by the way.) I've begun detailed planning of a short comic piece for you too, the one long foretold.  wink I have to find someway to reward you for all this advertising.

Pataloca: Joe Rogan, is that the Fear Factor guy? If so, he was thrown into a quasar for preying on America's love of sleaze. They found out it was actually possible to plug a quasar after that. Sadly, they could not destroy all the shameless exploiters in the world that way.
Thanks for the comments, and I hope you feel better (actually, after all this time, I hope you haven't got a new eye headache.)

AsaB: Aw... I didn't mean to make you cry! I'm so surprised to hear that people think this one was the best because I found it a hard write. I hope you enjoy the next update tommorow. The climax is coming up soon!

Procyon: Aw, thanks for the welcome. I missed you too! I'm so glad you like that last chapter. I wanted to expand a bit on the Fry family. Yancy was nice to write, he's never explored much.

swidzi: Thank you, Swidzi!

Gorky:Oh, you are just too funny Gorky. You ought to write hilarious Futurama fanfics... oh wait...
A mule faced dancer... now that's Kodak gold! Shippy glee that can only be expressed  by a duet, wow you should really think about writing... oh.
The metaphorically thing was completely for you of course!
Both you and Bergey pointed out the shippy/kicky moment. Ironically enough, that obviously comes off way more shippy then intended. Around here, the expression, there's the_____ I know and love is said very casually, and most of the time does't mean love at all. I did think about having her say like, but then I thought it was lame and awkward and only drew more attention to the line. I thought about cutting it altogether, but I desperately wanted the kick, and Fry being cute too. Now I'm planning on editing the line to read 'know and tolerate' which hopefully works out.
There's a big heaping dose of shippy coming up and I don't want to over ship this... hmmm, that was needlessly long. Sorry.
Leela had to do the Fry thing. It wasn't in the plan, but it had to be done!
I knew I was taking a bit of a risk with the schizoid conversation, but I figured anyone would be confused after getting hit like that.
Yancy Sr. is easy to write gags for 'cause it's all in his character. You make a really good point about how families act in crises and I'm glad that it came across in the story.
Yay! Monkeys!

Shiny: Well, I'm honored that someone who makes people cry and Venus explode with writing would call my writing brilliant. (I think you're exaggerating, but I appreciate the compliment, thank you!) The good thing about your writing(well, there's sooo much good) is that it's so compact. I just go on and on and on... like this.

say what now: Any progress on your story? You're too sweet for words, girl, thank you so much! I hope you know how much you inspire me to keep writing! I really am sorry about the wait!

Shippy Mandy: Yay! You've returned! I'd love to know what your suspicion is, so tell me when it's been confirmed or not, if you remember! It always surprises me what people take from this.

Philp_J_Fry: Glad you enjoyed that little mysterious snippet!

Gorky: Your crazed rant of emotions was nearly as long as my update, and I laughed and felt guilty at the same time, thank you!
My word count is 91,000 and my page count is 161. It is terrifying. You'll have to help me when I try out this thing you writers call "humour" or "humor" if you're American.

jubei: Good for you that you're still writing. I haven't thought of any ideas for your story, but maybe you could try something funny for a nice change.

JBERGES: See, now i's your turn to put me to shame. You've been writing like crazy lately, and I can't even keep up. Sorry (to both you and Gorky and anyone else I'm missing) for not replying to your updates, but I will work on catching up as soon as I can. Know that I'm reading and loving them!
Glad you liked the suspicion, I wasn't sure about whether I should include it or not. You make a good point about the know and love line and I wrote all about the thought process behind it in Gorky's reply.

I should have known it would be you to catch the lime green reference and the I spy thing. Both were completely on purpose.

Hope deferred is hope denied I guess JBERGES, but that little scene was the smallest part of something huge and I'll be a very long time in revealing it.

You bailed out! But I can't steer! Oh no! We're heading for a cliff! Someone throw me a period quick! ... NO! Not an ellipsis! ARGGHHHH!!!!

I'm okay.

Venus: Oh, you're so demanding Venus.  smile I meant that to be a bit ambiguous. For me, it was a flower shaped bit of technology that scanned Fry, for others, it was the third eye, for you, who knows? (spooky music)

morbo_it: Thanks! Nice guess about the eye!

PJ:I love the way you talk, it's fun!

Tom35: Thanks a lot! Glad to be better!

NIC2001: Thanks so much, I'm glad I could brighten your day. You certainly brightened mine! I encourage you to keep writing! You have good story ideas, there is just a bit of a language barrier that puts people off I think! Keep writing!

See ya soon!



« Reply #729 on: 04-17-2005 00:35 »

i talk fun??.............booyah!!

Delivery Boy
« Reply #730 on: 04-17-2005 09:47 »
« Last Edit on: 04-17-2005 09:47 »

Greatiings Layla it's okay if you don't have any idea's but when you said to try and wright something funny. well it's that i can't it is just that humor is not strong suit i'm more of action/dark kind of guy see what i wright has to do with saving the world defeating a great evil and fiding out that live for some higher purpos so that is what i'am going stick with but if that means loseing you as fan then so be it.later day's

Urban Legend
« Reply #731 on: 04-17-2005 16:33 »

When did you decide to start following this story? Knowing you(sorta), I'm sure the opening put you off. Why'd you stick with it?
As I recall, you had me at "softly spoken steel."

As I may have said before, the drama's kind of off-putting just because it deviates from the source material.  However, it's just so damned well-written I can't help but enjoy it.  And then when you get out of the emotional quagmire and into comedy or exposition...pure platinum.

Keep writing Layla.  I want to see how it ends.

Bending Unit
« Reply #732 on: 04-17-2005 21:13 »

Aw, geez... go and make me tear up, N-o-r. That was early on! But what really got me was your last words. they had this huge emotional impact on me and I was so confused. "Why would those words hit me like that, they aren't special-- oh!" And then I was a big ball of mush.

Man, you're sweet.
And PJ's hilarious, Booyah!

Have an actiony update, on me!

Part 48:
   It wasn’t difficult to figure out where to go after leaving the warehouse, though no one was willing to stop and talk with him. Morris didn’t blame them for fleeing. Most of those mutants passing him had families. The frightened faces of hideous children reminded him of his own precious family. Morris had just broken into a run when a particularly large explosion rocked the tunnels, nearly knocking the mutant off his feet. He was getting close.

As he passed the newly ruined buildings of his home, Morris felt a sense of outrage build up inside of him. Admittedly, it would be difficult for the objective observer to distinguish between the whole and damaged buildings, but still! What right did the maniacal dictator have to threaten the mutants, who had always avoided conflict with the heartless surface dwellers? Was there no limit to their selfishness?

Thick smoke was billowing out of a tunnel to his left. Morris headed unerringly into the corridor, towards the anguished screams and alarmed shouts from his friends and neighbours. A small group of mutants, no more than twelve in number were huddled around a misshapen figure. The worried father dropped to his knees beside the wounded mutant, only realizing then that it was Raoul, the Supreme Mutant.

   “Sir!” the generally stoic mutant gasped, “are you alright?!”

   “Turanga Morris, is it?” the noble-looking mutant, in-a-twisted-sort-of-way, asked uncertainly, searching his memory.

   “In the pasty, flaky flesh.” Morris nodded, looking over his leader’s injuries. Nothing too serious, he decided quickly and helped Raoul into a sitting position.

   Another loud crash echoed by an enraged, disturbingly satisfied howl bespoke the devastation being wreaked on Sub New New York.

   “What are your orders, sir?” a young woman demanded, eyes flashing. “We can’t fall back forever!”

   With a great weariness in his eyes, Raoul acknowledge the truth in her words. "No, we cannot fall back forever and we cannot hide any longer. The surface dwellers have not left that option to us.”

   A sudden, profound stillness fell over the group, and Morris felt it too, as deep calm blanketing him. It was the instant of decision, the slightest shift of the spirit before choice. It was the end of his hope and the quiet beginning of despair. In his heart, Morris knew the cold steel birth of surrender, of resignation, and finally, of resolution. Something in the gentle father hardened irrevocably.

“I’m with you,” Morris said quietly, the words as good as a vow. “What do we do?”

   Raoul gave him a measuring look, and then nodded in acceptance. “We need to regroup. Most everyone is scattered through our beautiful city. Our citizens will have gathered in the shelters we've been preparing, knowing what might happen." He chewed his lip thoughtfully. "We’ll split up and gather support from the shelters, then we’ll meet at the grand entrance to the sub sewers. It’s the best place to gather a lot of people, if they come,” he added uncertainly.

   “They will,” another mutant affirmed before Morris could get the words out, “this is their home.”

   Raoul smiled grimly. “Janice, do you have the list of shelter locations?”

The woman with the serpentine eyes nodded briskly, pulling ragged notes out from a mangy satchel she’d carried on her back. It took only a few minutes to divvy up the locations among them. Raoul hauled himself unsteadily to his feet, in some pain from his injuries. “I must find V-”

   “No, sir,” came a chorus of voices that issued from one mutant with three mouths, “we need you to organize things at the meeting place." He dropped his eyes respectfully. "Besides, you’re hurt. I suggest you go with Andy and wait for the rest of us to come to you.” It was a reasonable suggestion, and the reasonable Supreme Mutant agreed to it, but with great reluctance.

   “We’ll all keep an eye out for her, sir. I’m sure Vyola’s alright.” Janice promised sympathetically.

    Morris leaned over to the nearest person and hissed, “Vyola?”

   “Yeah, his wife, she’s missing. No one’s seen her since the attack began.” Morris looked sadly at Raoul, imagining what the mutant was going through.

   “We’ll find her,” Morris promised, hoping he was not wrong. The Supreme Mutant smiled weakly, but his eyes were far away.

   The mutants split up for their respective tasks. Morris had two places to find, one a popular teen restaurant, and the other a scenic spot with a nice subterranean view of Central Park (Dirt and tree roots mostly). His route took him nowhere near the warehouse that held his wife and daughter, so he would not be able to see them, even if there was time to spare. With heavy heart and grim determination, Morris took off at a brisk jog, wondering if he would see his own family again.


   Hermes had known before getting out of the cell that escaping the Nimbus would not be easy, but he had not counted on having to keep Brannigan from doing anything stupid at the same time.

The group moved quickly through the bowels of the ship, trying to avoid being seen. The unlikely quartet soon found it impossible to avoid every crewmember and they had sent three such individuals into a pleasant stupor using drugs Hermes had managed to pocket even in his own drugged state.

   “How on Mars did you manage to steal these while you were busy blabbing about Fry and Leela?” Amy had demanded in an astonished whisper when he'd first revealed his little stash. “Poor Fry and Leela” she added with a perky shake of her dark hair.

   Hermes was offended. “Well,” he began haughtily,” I realize I’ve lived in New New York a long time now, so long that it’s hard to see my Jamaican heritage, but by Mr.Bean’s Eyebrows, I’m Jamaican!" He nodded decisively. "That's right! I’m Jamaican and that means I have certain inherited talents which allow me to be extremely well-coordinated while under the influence.” Shifty-eyed, the bureaucrat added, “Also, a lot of practice,” but he did not choose to clarify that statement.

   Amy understood though, “So you used those special talents to…” Kif choked softly, looking distinctly uncomfortable. The Asian figured that he may have some sort of legal obligation to report such activities. “Uh… limbo?” she finished awkwardly.

   “What are you talking about woman? No limbo-er worth his hemp jockeys would impugn the noble tradition of the limbo!” Hermes glared around at his fellow escapees, daring them to disagree.

   “Okay, okay!” Amy muttered defensively. “Whatlever you splay.”

   “Unless they were sure they wouldn’t get caught, by a less than understanding official.” The Jamaican added softly to himself, a reflective smile curving his lips. Amy shot him a suspicious glance.

   “What was that, soldier?” Brannigan demanded, barging into the conversation with a voice that echoed brazenly in the still air. The others spun towards him in alarmed shock.

   “Nothing!” Hermes hissed, waving his hands for silence at the same time as Kif moaned,

   “Please, sir, we need to be quiet or we’ll never get off the Nimbus.”

   Brannigan frowned deeply at the lieutenant. “What? Leave the Nimbus! We’re doing no such thing. This is my ship, and I’m not leaving her voluptuous figure in the rough hands of these murderous pirates!”

   Kif sighed, as though it was nearly an unbearable effort to argue with the captain. “Sir, they’re not pirates, they’re-”

   Brannigan cut him off, “Enough of your ignorant cowardice, Kif!” He leaned in towards the quivering mass of officer, frowning suspiciously. “Maybe you’ve been working with these pirates all along!” Kif’s eyes bugged out of his head. “Yes, I see it all now, you negative attitude, your relentless chatter, and your unexplained absence when they took over the ship; it was all there under my chin.”

   “You mean nose, sir.” Kif corrected.

   “That’s what I said!” Brannigan snapped loudly. A crewmember peered curiously into the nook where they were hiding.

Hermes clamped a hand perfunctorily over the unfortunate man’s head and hauled him towards Amy, who neatly slipped the injector from Hermes pocket and jabbed the astonished crewmember. The bureaucrat let the man slump to the ground. It was becoming practiced routine. Meanwhile, Zapp continued to berate Kif.

        "And that time with the women of the Undefended Minor system-" 

   Hermes pushed between the DOOP officers impatiently. “Cram it! I’m using up all my rainy day narcotics…uh, which I grabbed for just this reason and no other.”

   “Shouldn’t we be getting to the shuttles?” Amy asked hopefully, as she daintily stepped over the blearily giggling crewman.

   “Oh, of course, dearest,” Kif replied stroking her arm gently, nervously eyeing his commanding officer.

   But Brannigan was still stubbornly glaring at the lieutenant. “I’m not going to abandon-”

   “Oh, will you stop whining?” Hermes complained, shoving past the captain without looking back. Wordlessly, Amy and Kif followed the bureaucrat and Zapp grudgingly trotted after them, grumbling.

   By some miracle, they had nearly made it into the shuttle bay when everything went wrong.

Kif was putting his malleable quality to good use, squirming through a small hatch in the bulkhead, not far from the controls for the shuttle bay. Amy was admiring his mechanical prowess whilst assisting him. Her arms were loaded down with delicate circuits Kif was extracting from the wall.
Hermes was keeping a sharp lookout, as was Zapp, though the captain’s line of sight varied slightly, to include Amy’s rear end.

Amy’s streak of coordination gave out at the worst possible moment, as one of the agents was passing by. Every member of Nixon’s team was intelligent and well armed, unlike many of the Nimbus’ crewmembers and there was no way any of them could miss the resounding crash of shattered metal as Amy tripped backwards on thin air, sending fractured bits of components flying everywhere.

To make matters worse, Brannigan had been making a stealthy approach towards the clumsy intern and ended slipping on the debris and slamming head first into Kif. Large portions of Kif were jammed further into the bulkhead.

   “Ooh, Amy, not so rough, dear!” An uneasy note entered his voice, “Um, that is Amy, isn’t it?” With a desperate push, Brannigan pried himself off of Kif, momentum sending him on his back next to the floor.

   He grinned at the stunned woman beside and smoothly said, “You’re a lucky bit of spunk, meeting a captain down here.” Amy pushed him away and stood up as fast as humanly possible. She latched onto Kif’s skinny, green legs and hauled him violently out of the wall, crashing once again to the floor.

   In the meantime, Hermes, who was painfully familiar with Amy’s quirks and knew the best reaction was no reaction, stood utterly still as chaos erupted behind him. There was a bemused resignation in his dark eyes. A high-tech Laser-Phaser rounded the corner and jammed up under his chin, followed shortly thereafter by an angry looking agent.

All the bizarre noises behind him ceased as the others spotted the pistol. The bureaucrat made no attempt to resist; they were well and truly caught this time. The dark-clothed man had already reported the capture and began frisking Hermes, keeping a careful eye on the jumble of prisoners behind the friskee.

   “Oh…” the Jamaican sighed mournfully as the last of the narcotics was rooted out of his pockets. 

I love deadlines, especially the whooshing sound they make as they fly past my head. Douglas Adams

Urban Legend
« Reply #733 on: 04-18-2005 01:12 »

Finally more Morris! 2 Little problems that i noticed though. Raoul shouldn't have been unsure of who Morris was. They are fairly good friends. They fish together and whenever morris says "my daughter" Raoul automatically knows it's Leela. So they must know each other fairly well for Raoul to know Morris' daughter's name. And Vyolet's name isn't Vyola, it's Vyolet.

Other than that me likey. Especialy the bit where it's Amy's clumsiness that gets them in trouble.

Bending Unit
« Reply #734 on: 04-18-2005 19:08 »

I like what Layla has done with Morris - like all the characters she writes about he seems more like a real person instead of a toon.

The Zip is an exception though and I love it! Layla makes hating Zap sooooo much fun!! Bless you Layla!!!

Urban Legend
« Reply #735 on: 04-19-2005 22:54 »
« Last Edit on: 04-19-2005 22:54 »

Ack!  Your fanbase!  Your delicious nutritious unsurreptitious fanbase!  Someone tell them to get their lazy asses back here!

Large portions of Kif were jammed further into the bulkhead.
“Large portions.”  I like that phraseology. 

"And that time with the women of the Undefended Minor system-"
Heh.  I would have liked to hear the end of that story...

A solid part overall, Layla, I’m glad you’re still poking your head in here from time to time.  We all know you’re busy; don’t feel rushed, ‘real life’ things come first.

Whatlever you splay
you negative attitude
And getting back to that non-'real life' stuff, was I supposed to E-mail you about this betay-thingy, or were you supposed to Email me?  Does it even matter?
Shippy Mandy

Bending Unit
« Reply #736 on: 04-19-2005 23:12 »

It's very nice. I loved the parts with Zapp Brannigan--he's perfectly characterized. Beautiful work. I can't wait to see more.

I am the Bacon Man!

Starship Captain
« Reply #737 on: 04-20-2005 12:14 »

 Hey Layla, that was a nice part. Not you’re best but still a nice part. Can't wait to see what happens next.

So you want me to continue to write my fic? So you must have read it then. Why did you not leave me any reply? Anyway, only you and Jubei want me to continue to write so far. I will think about it. (If only I was better in English. I use to be but... never mind)


Starship Captain
« Reply #738 on: 04-20-2005 17:04 »

What can I say?

 You have lured forth another lurker with your magnificent tale.
 There is not a single one of your near fifty parts of this story I would not categorise as great. Quite a few even hit the roof...
As I am far from the first to note; you have brilliantly captured every character you have used so far, you have a surprisingly well developing storyline, and you pay just the right amount of attention to details. Marvellous work, keep it up.

*Yeah, but you're using induction.

Starship Captain
« Reply #739 on: 04-20-2005 17:33 »

I couldn't have said it better than I myself. Very nice work Layla. Zapp was funny as usual.Can't wait for more updates. Keep it up!

Space Pope
« Reply #740 on: 04-21-2005 21:53 »

Ack! Your fanbase! Your delicious nutritious unsurreptitious fanbase! Someone tell them to get their lazy asses back here!

I'm trying, I'm trying. It's just that, when your ass is firmly seated in front of the TV during a Golden Girls marathon, it's hard to move it...

Er, anyway...

Sorry it's taken me so long to comment on this, Layla. The truth is, I don't have much to add to what everyone else said. The first half of this part was great just because of the fact that it was so well-written, and had one or two gags here and there. And also, me likey Morris, so I was perfectly fine with another Morris half-chapter.

As for the second half of this chapter it was just...oh God, how can I put it...hilarious. Your Zapp writing is just brilliant (I can assure you...if brilliantest was a word, I'd be using it), and it makes me laugh every time. For example...

Brannigan frowned deeply at the lieutenant. “What? Leave the Nimbus! We’re doing no such thing. This is my ship, and I’m not leaving her voluptuous figure in the rough hands of these murderous pirates!”

I have no idea why I think randomly calling certain groups of people or things murderous is funny...it just is. And when it's Zapp talking, all the funnier.

I also really thought Hermes was funny in this part. You manage to keep him in character, while still venturing into this strange new comedy as far as Hermes's character goes. I don't really know how to explain it...I just know I like it.

And, of course, I loved the "large portions" thing that Bergey mentioned. When you put certain words together (for example, strawberry bloomers), it's funny. I guess, as a so-called "writer" I look out for people's choices of words (I know that, when I write, I comb over every word carefully to make sure it fits and sounds okay and isnt' clunky or what have you...when it is, it bugs me)...and yours are just great.

Anyway, that's about all I have to say. I can't wait for the forthcoming ship that you were talking about earlier. Not only because of the fact that I like the ship, but also because of the fact that, whenever you write ship, it's so elogant and...perfect that...man, it's just so much better than pretty much everything out there (with a few exceptions, like Bergey's stuff and Venus's stuff and a couple of others from TLZ and on these boards, where have you...you guys are all on the level that I hope to reach one day).

Can't wait for what's to come, Layla...


« Reply #741 on: 04-22-2005 02:37 »
« Last Edit on: 04-29-2005 00:00 »

mutates possibly going to war.
Hermes having his last bit of drugs taken away.

a good one thats what crazy but good

oh some bad news........Your not batman


keep em comin'


friday april 29th a week later.

HOT,COLD,HOT,COLD this place is freaking me out.Tell me this fanfic hasn't moved i looked around and didn't see anything.

« Reply #742 on: 05-01-2005 15:11 »

This fanfic is just too superior to remain on the second page. I just brought the first season DVD's, and that made me want to check out Futurama fandom... I couldn’t believe that people were writing fics this good. The quality of this story (and many of the stories and art here) is much better than anything I could have expected!

Oh, and Layla50, I was very happy to see you posting on other topics, I just got here and so I was worried you had gone away! In the words of Sallah from Raiders of the Lost Ark,

"I'm so pleased you're not dead!"

Bending Unit
« Reply #743 on: 05-01-2005 16:11 »

Why thank you Tarendol! It's always nice to see new people around, especially when I'm busy scaring the old people. (Winks at PJ)
A good show attracts a good fanbase.

I am very much alive, at least, I think so. (Checks pulse) Agh! I can't find it! Oh, wait, there it is. Yep, alive. Alive and writing! It's been a while between updates (yet again! Sorry!) for two reasons, 1) last week of practicum 2) I'm working on the BIG update. It's basically four parts in one, so it'll be long, and it basically works up to the climax of the story.

So, in other words, after this update, everything's going to start winding down. It's been a good run, and a great time thanks to all your support. I don't think it will be a long time until my next fanfic but you never know. I'm planning a few short comedic pieces before I launch into my next big story, which will be Leela-centric, at least, I think so now. Who knows where your suggestions will lead me this time. Anyhoo, I promise the wait will be worthwhile.

See ya soon!

Urban Legend
« Reply #744 on: 05-01-2005 16:54 »

Originally posted by Layla50:
 I don't think it will be a long time until my next fanfic but you never know.

No! *Wraps self sobbing around Layla's leg* No don't go! Why must everyone i love go away?? WHY God WHYYYYYYY??!!

Wait...Leela-centric story? Yay! The prom one right? I predict a large bucket of pigs blood falling from the rafters and then a high school gym erupting in a flaming fireball as Leela suddenly grows to over 500 feet and attacks Tokyo where she is eventually defeated by the Powerpuff Girls...Hhm. That doesn't sound right. What's this story actually gonna be about?

« Reply #745 on: 05-02-2005 02:08 »

are you saying i get scared easy....if i get scared easily that would mean am paranoid ARE YOU SAYING AM PARANOID!!!(looks left, then right, then left, then right again)

hhhmmm i have never writen down my movements before......

anyway what do you mean your finishing up soon. such a thing could mean the end of life as we know it.....more for some then others that is.not so much for myself but it will still be a depressing point in my life........................a lso THAT IS SICK AND WRONG that you'd do such a thing.

big update eh....are we talking 2 pages big or like 20. cuz a 20 page update would be nice

  big grin

hhmmmm so many clever things could be written here i just dunno what to put..........(sigh)

Starship Captain
« Reply #746 on: 05-02-2005 12:18 »


Layla’s fic is coming to an end. This can’t be.   cry   cry   cry

No really, I’m happy for you Layla, one less thing for you to worry about.
I just can wait to read it.  (Btw, do you remember about the true love kiss thing?  tongue  I sure did not forget about it. So will it happen??? You don’t have to tell me, I will surely find out in your next update. I hope.)

When will you update? This weekend maybe? Anyway, take your time and make it great like you always do.  smile

Take care.

Liquid Emperor
« Reply #747 on: 05-02-2005 12:40 »

Originally posted by Layla50:

So, in other words, after this update, everything's going to start winding down. It's been a good run, and a great time thanks to all your support. I don't think it will be a long time until my next fanfic but you never know. I'm planning a few short comedic pieces before I launch into my next big story, which will be Leela-centric, at least, I think so now. Who knows where your suggestions will lead me this time. Anyhoo, I promise the wait will be worthwhile.

An end to your outstanding fic? This is a situation too terrible to contemplate!


You say you'll be writing more?


Well, we dodged that bullet.

What are you still doin' here?
Write, girl, write

SpaceCase demands more!

Bending Unit
« Reply #748 on: 05-02-2005 13:01 »

Okay, last reply before the big update!
I just couldn't resist.

It's touching to me to realize some of you are sad to see this coming to an end, especially as I am so freaking excited about it. I mean, really, I've never finished anything like this before, and I'm gonna finish a 100,000 word fanfic. Whoo!

To reassure you that I do intend to continue, here are my current planned fics in no particular order:

How Bender adopted Fry -comedic
  -based on a teeny joke in my own fic.
Something sad about that eh?

The story of Leela's prom: Drama/comedic elements This will be similar to the fic I just wrote: a multiplot story that takes place in both the past and the present. Sally the ear girl may have a role (Or if not, then there will be another story with her.) and there will be a general parental/adoption theme.
I don't want to give away too much.

A gap filler: How did Fry get his job back with Planet Express that time he got fired (and dropped out of the hole of the planet express ship)

Zapp's childhood: -comedic?
I'm terrified to attempt this, but it could be hilarious. Definately uncharted waters here.

The Big One: -epic, drama, action, mystery. comedic elements

- If you thought the one I'm working on now was big, you won't if I actually get this written. It's based on a suggestion by Nor and will be a plot thread laced through all my stories until it all comes together in this fic. Now if I could only figure out the plot.

NIC2001: Aw, don't cry! Don't you want to know what happens?  wink That true love thing won't be in this next update, but the one after, and it may be... unexpected. I'm hoping to update tommorow or the day after. If JBERGES is willing, I'm gonna email him the update so he can look over it before I post it. I'm dying for it to be good.

PJ: You make me laugh! I swear, I didn't mean to end life as we know it, but hey, maybe life as we know is inferior to life aswe will know it. Great. I've confused myself. Be careful about using the words sick and wrong to a person who has suggested LaBarbara has a latent attraction to Zoidberg. You blocked out that memory didn't you?  smile

The update will be more than 5000 words, if that helps. So, way more than two pages.

Venus: Shh! You're giving away the plot! (But seriously, can't you see JBERGES or Gorky making that work?)

(Gently disengages Venus from her leg and hands her cuddly shippy Fry and Leela plushies) I've got some many ideas, if I start them right away, then I won't disappear. Besides, I give in to peer pressure. (points at fic) See?


Urban Legend
« Reply #749 on: 05-02-2005 13:38 »

Finally, a chance to be useful!

Feel free to send it all over, Layla.  I should be able to get it back to you with error fixes/suggestions by either late tonight or tomorrow afternoon, depending on how homework goes. 

Starship Captain
« Reply #750 on: 05-02-2005 16:44 »
« Last Edit on: 05-02-2005 16:44 »

Ok I will stop to cry… Ok I’m fine now.   

So no free time for you Layla.
You just made a big mistake. Announcing future release of many fanfics. You better get to work. I want those Fanfics on my desk by 0800 Monday morning or you will be in a lot of trouble young lady. laff laff laff

No really they all look very interesting. Especially the one about Leela's prom and the one about young Zapp.

Can wait to read them all.
Don't forget about T.L.K. because I won't.   wink

Bye for now.

Urban Legend
« Reply #751 on: 05-02-2005 17:06 »

Originally posted by Layla50:
 and there will be a general parental/adoption theme.

Ooooohhh i'm such a sucker for stuff like that! Stories about lonely little kids kill me.
Shippy Mandy

Bending Unit
« Reply #752 on: 05-02-2005 19:41 »
« Last Edit on: 05-02-2005 19:41 »

I'm eagerly awaiting your next update. 5,000 words, you say? Very cool. I could never write a story as long as yours (my longest story ever was pretty short--about 8,000 words total--and it was absolutely terrible). I envy your writing skills!

Your future fanfics sound great. I can't wait for them.

(Venus...can I play with those shippy dolls after you?)

Bending Unit
« Reply #753 on: 05-05-2005 16:57 »
« Last Edit on: 05-05-2005 16:57 »

It's here!

but first, a big thank you very much to JBERGES who very kindly beta'd this for me. (And he's awesome at it, of course!)Rest assured, this is much improved from his efforts.

Shippy Mandy: Your support means so much to me! Thank you! I never thought I could write anything this along... until I did. This update is actually 7300 words long. It is terrifying.

Venus: I really hope that you enjoy the adoption story. To be honest, I am terrified by the thought of taking on another major writing project. If I had known before starting this thing what I know now...

NIC: I will not forget, but you may wish I had...

I really shot myself in the foot there didn't I? There's no escape!
I'm sorry I haven't replied yet, but I will! I've been working so hard on this lately... forgive me?

SpaceCase: Hey, you're still around, that's great! Enjoy this tediously long update.

PJ :Darn... I have always wanted to be batman. This is definately a crazy story, and it's about to have one last rush of crazyness... and then some more.

Gorky: Always wonderful to hear from you, especially when some people (looks around guiltily) have not kept up with the other fab writers on this board. I'm glad you've been liking the wacky humour, as I can only learn from what you and Bergey do. I definately do the careful word choice things. It makes for good reading, in my opinion.

Philp_J_Fry: Thanks as always, you rock!

I:I like your short username. Welcome to PEEL and thank you for delurking and making me happy girl. I hope you enjoy this major update.

JBERGES: In addition to being my beta (Whoo!) you get a gold star for using the word, "unsurreptitious". And cause you make me laugh! I'm sure your creative mind can come up with all sorts of ways to finish the undefended minor story.

One thing, the "whatlever you splay" line was not, gasp!, a typo. It was a failed Amyism, whoo!

Ol'coot: Bless you, too! I love to make you hate Zapp Brannigan.

Venus, again: (Slaps forehead) Cursed by my own hubris! I live in shame, I assure you. Here I was thinkgin I was being all clever for having two minor characters not actually know eachother, when they did! Also, bugger, I messed up her name. Thanks for catching me!
Amy needed a clumsy moment. She's been fairly well co-ordinated in this story so far.

The 49th part... of longness.

Part 49:

   Bitter disappointment coloured Morris’ every move as he stood amongst the crowd of gathered mutants waiting for direction. Despite his best efforts, few mutants had been willing to leave the relative, and ultimately, temporary safety of the shelters to come and preserve the safety of the sewers. While he hadn’t expected them to come singing and dancing at the thought of standing between the invaders and what they wanted, he’d hoped that more than the twenty or so mutants who had followed him would understand that hiding would not help them this time.

“Not sure there’s any help for us at all,” he admitted quietly, so that his companions wouldn’t hear. It wouldn’t do anyone any good to give up before they had even joined the battle.

Looking around, Morris knew no one else’s luck had been much better. There were no more than two hundred mutants gathered in front of the entrance to the sub-sewer. It was quiet here; the invaders had not made it this far in yet, but they were coming.

   It was fortunate that the mutants had fair warning, however, for things were not as bad as they could have been. The militia Raoul had gathered upon hearing of Nixon’s plans was impressive, despite the small numbers. They were calm, or at least, they seemed to be, and reasonably well organized given the circumstances. The members of the militia were scattered throughout the crowd of soon-to-be soldiers, giving them orders, explaining strategies and equipping them with whatever weapons they’d managed to cobble together.

A female mutant approached them carrying a bag of said weapons.

   “I’m Janice,” she greeted them perfunctorily; projecting her voice so everyone could hear her. She began corralling the mutants into groups of twelve even as she gave out weapons and instructions. “I’ll tell you right off that we don’t have enough arms for everyone.”

   “Tell me about it,” chuckled Bertie, a tall mutant who had four sets of hands that jutted out of his body without the benefits of a single arm. Strained laughter broke out and some of the tension in the air diffused.

   Janice did not so much as smile. “If you don’t end up with something from me, there’s debris all over the place where you’ll be going. Pick up something pointy.” She moved just left of Morris. “Any of you have any experience with lasers?” As one, the group of mutants began glancing around nervously at their companions.

   After hesitating, Morris raised a hand and spoke. “I’ve fired one.” He had been dating Munda and was trying to impress her with a bit of a light show. It hadn’t gone off very well, but she’d forgiven him anyway.

   Janice smiled at him grimly. “Great. This is yours then.” She handed him something wrapped in cloth. He chose not to look for the moment. The serpentine-eyed woman passed out what she had to give. Weapons distributed, Janice addressed the group again.

“If you can, don’t let them see you. Get them from behind, from a distance, anything you can do to stop them. This isn’t going to be a fair fight. Guerilla warfare is our best bet.

   “Gorilla?” came a confused murmur from someone in the crowd. Janice rolled her eyes.

   “Look after that one,” she commanded Morris with a shake of her head. He turned to his fellows who were glaring at a sheepish double-nosed mutant.

   “I will,” he promised. The embarrassed mutant was just a kid. ‘So young,’ Morris thought regretfully.

    Janice nodded sharply. “Good. We’re going to attempt to ambush Nixon near the mutagenic lake.” An odd number of eyes widened at her statement. “But that’s not your concern. You’re going to be stopping the invaders who split off from the main group and are headed for the school district.”

She frowned, and for the first time, Morris heard worry creep into her voice. “There are a lot of families laying low in that area and we really don’t know what the invaders will do with prisoners. It’s a good bet that if the lives of the surface dwellers don’t mean much to Nixon, our lives mean even less. We are counting on you,” she added firmly, “don’t let us down.”

   With that grim order, Janice departed to instruct the next group, leaving them to their task. When no one moved, Morris rolled his shoulders. “Let’s go then,” he said, and headed for the school district, refusing to look back to check if his comrades had followed.

   Lord Nibbler had been watching the earth broadcasts for hours, trying to glean valuable information, information that he fervently hoped would inspire the council to action. “I must insist that what I present be considered a clear threat to the survival of the Mighty One,” he transmitted, voice lolling through the quiet room.

Dr. Zoidberg had left the Planet Express headquarters a long time ago, leaving Nibbler free to sneak in and use the surviving large TV in the meeting room for his search. It was a good deal more comfortable than being confined in his own ship where he’d spent the first few hours. His eyestalk had stared to cramp up.

   “A long-lived people like ours know the value of comfort, and if I am forced to endure the primitive babbling of the Earthican’s “Pre-War Show”, then I might as well do it nestled in my pet bed with a very dignified chew toy to gnaw,” he mused. “And troubled times like these require solitude for pondering,” he added. Certainly, the bizarre Earth customs necessitated much thought.

   Some time ago, interviews had been held with the President and several of the soldiers that would be sent into the mutant’s domain. At first, Lord Nibbler could not believe the hubris that led these creatures to reveal their invasion plans on the air for anyone to see. “And yet, after the initial shock, I realized I should not have been surprised. We are, after all, dealing with humans.”

The Nibblonian knew the mutants had access to this audio-visual transmission technology and could use it to their advantage as Nibbler himself was doing. “But despite their increased attractiveness, I have little evidence to support the suggestions that the mutants are any more intelligent than the genetically standard population.”

However, even on Earth, some secrets managed to remain secret; for instance, the Mighty One’s involvement and the exact time of the attack. “I do not like waiting ‘til the last niblet to take action. While I have faithfully delivered the plans for developing a device to combat Fry’s illness into the hands of the so called “scientist,” I am not certain that he has engaged it properly, if he has engaged it at all. The despot of this world continues his search for the Mighty One, and I fear for the safety of Leela as well.”

   In truth, Nibbler was more than worried. He was frustrated with the lack of freedom he had to act. If it were up to him, the Nibblonians themselves would have simply taken both Fry and Leela to ensure their safety. Everything depended on it.

The Nibblonian healers could have solved the catastrophic effects of the delta waves flooding Fry’s fragile brain in peace, and then erased the memories of everyone involved. It would have been over and done with by now. Was there truly more wisdom in leaving it the unsteady hands of a witch doctor? The Council said yes, and Lord Nibbler had to obey. He would not voice his desire for more active involvement.

Still, the Nibblonian continued to question that decision, even as he hoped it was the right one. If the hopes of the galaxy were captured, he would act. Even the most cautious members of the Council would recognize that intervention would be necessary in those circumstances.

   The lab door opened without warning and Nibbler slipped into pet mode without thought. Dr. Zoidberg had returned.

   “Why, look at this!” the Decapodian exclaimed in delight. The little land mammal had found the code for the professor’s TV and now Zoidberg could watch!  He rubbed Nibbler’s furry head with one affectionate claw.

   Temporarily thwarted, Nibbler started to leave the table but before he got far, Zoidberg scooped him up. “Yes, you’ll be a good friend to Zoidberg while he watches Aqua-aerobics, not like those others! Always off doing exciting things while I’m stuck here, all alone.” He sighed pathetically, the very definition of self-pity.

   ‘No, no!’ Nibbler thought, struggling violently, ‘I must watch for news of the Mighty One and the Other!’ A low, almost inaudible growl began in his throat.

   Heedless, Zoidberg sat in a chair and kicked his sandaled feet up on the table, still cradling the struggling pet in one arm. “But wait, what’s this? An awards show? No, a pre-war show! Well, that’s even better than Coral’s Flippercise Hour! Excellent, excellent! We’ll just watch this together then, won’t we Nibbler?”

   The Nibblonian was not amused in the least, but was unable to wrench himself free without revealing more about himself than was wise. It would be torment, but he would endure. Cooing sweetly, he relaxed against the Decapodian’s carapace.

   “Pretty tense, isn’t it?” Zoidberg mumbled, “and so much more interesting than Zoidberg’s life! It looks like the mutants are going to get what’s coming to them today!” He sighed, blowing out his lip dealies. “Poor little unwanted creatures,” he added, with sudden empathy.

   “Coming up next, Morbo interviews the manager of the dry cleaning company that looks after the president’s wardrobe. Here’s a clip.”

   “Did you find it difficult to become a massive disappointment to those who bore you?”

   “I’m not a-”

   “When did you decide to give up on all your meaningless hopes and dreams?”

   “Uh, well, I-”

   Linda, giggling lightly appeared on
the screen again.  “You can look forward to more of tha– Oh! We have just received word that the noble intervention in the lives of the sewer-dwelling scum has already begun.”

   The newscaster began chatting with
a smartly dressed man in the studio. “So, Major Amiro, you say that the operation is going smoothly thus far?”

   “Quite smoothly, Linda, the majority of the mutants are welcoming us with open… tentacles.” He smiled genially, “Although they are repulsive and beneath us, we are eager to reach out and give them the aid they have needed for so long.”

   “Has there been much fighting?”

   “Well, Linda, it is only a small section of the population that resists our rescue efforts. We expect them to fall in line with a minimum of convincing.”

   “Morbo believes your weak planet will fall under our domination “with a minimum of convincing,” but we will destroy you anyway!” He laughed wickedly at the startled officer.

   Nibbler shifted slightly to get a better view of the screen. ‘Perhaps the leaders are not as foolish as I once thought. It takes a skilled mind to sift the real information out from the copious lies and half-truths.’


   They say that the moments just before a battle are worse than the battle itself. Morris now knew that to be blatantly untrue. In a lifetime that could optimistically be described as wretched, Morris had done some hard, hard things in exceedingly unpleasant circumstances. He had never thought war would be one of them.

   In the fleeting couple of hours he’d had to gather support, Morris had not had time to really absorb the fact that he would soon have to fight, and probably kill, in order to defend his home. Dying was too abstract a possibility for him to consider, even now.

The mutants defending the school district were in desperate trouble. Things had started off badly when some youngster had given away their position with a burst of inadvertent laser fire. One of the armored agents pounding through the slick tunnel had taken her down almost immediately. With the first blood already drawn, the other mutants had sprung from their positions in a reckless attack that surprised the invaders with its intensity, if not its timing. The agents had split their fire in a well-practiced attack pattern that proved ruthlessly effective. It only took a few seconds for the distraught defenders to gather their wits and go back into cover, but seconds in a battle are an eternity when it comes to casualties.

   The mutants were still reeling from the devastating mistake as the agents coolly pressed the advantage. Despite the terror around him, Morris not afraid at present, he was wrathful. It was a strange word to describe his emotional state, but true nonetheless. His large hands trembled with the intensity of his fury as he thought of the wide-eyed youth Janice had asked him to protect, killed beside Morris in the opening volley.

“I couldn’t do one blessed thing for him,” he choked, grief warring with rage. His eye misted and he squeezed it shut, commanding his emotions to lie quietly for the moment. Sorrow surrendered patiently, willing to wait before overwhelming him, but anger was less forgiving. Morris knew who had caused all this destruction, and it made his blood boil.

Although they could not see Nixon, the President’s howls echoed through the labyrinthine tunnels, unnerving the mutants. It was one thing to know that stopping the mad dictator was not his responsibility, but it was quite another to ignore that threat completely, especially when he knew the crazed head-in-a-jar was after his family. Morris was beginning to think murder would not be so difficult if Nixon was the victim.

   The darkness of his thoughts alarmed him and his self-preservation kicked in again, telling him to be afraid. Stubbornly, he fought it with the lazy humour that had carried him through other dark days. “Arroo,” Morris muttered to himself as he ducked out of the way of a laser aimed at his head. “Why on earth did they have to elect a madman with a catch phrase?”

The laser fire intensified and he skidded behind the remains of somebody’s home. “What was Leela thinking when she didn’t vote?” He shook his head and rested one rough hand on the rougher concrete. After all, she was the lone voting representative of their people. Morris crouched down farther as he ran, hoping to elude the fellow chasing him. “I told her mother we should have made her more politically aware.”

   Something touched his shoulder and Morris spun in alarm, trying to look ready for a fight. “Whoa, whoa! Easy, I’m on your side.” A mutant, probably 30 years Morris’ junior had huddled beside him, seeking refuge from the intense, hopelessly one-sided firefight. Why were they always kids?

“Danlen,” the skeletally thin mutant greeted Morris, wearing an easy smile that did not disguise the quaver in his voice. He was obviously terrified. ‘You and me both, kid.’ Morris thought sadly before proffering his hand.

   “Morris,” he returned with a calmness he didn’t feel. The mutants watched in dismay as another wave of soldiers raced by them. “I suppose we oughta do something about that.” Danlen said reluctantly.

   “Guess so.” Morris nodded, feeling strangely relaxed. “Wish it hadn’t come to this.”

   “Yeah, me too,” he replied with a sad smile. ‘Always smiling, this kid,’ Morris thought, ‘’cause there isn’t anything to smile about.’

   Even before the fight started, Morris knew it was hopeless. They all knew. Outnumbered, outgunned, out-skilled, and ill equipped, still, they had to try, even if the only thing they could do to protect their families was to slow down the relentless invaders.

   Danlen shifted the vicious looking piece of metal in his hand. Not much good to him if they couldn’t get closer to the invaders. The laser Morris was armed with was weak and unreliable, cobbled together from various pieces flushed by criminals. It had proved strong enough to give an attacker serious burns. The mutant had managed to avoid killing anyone thus far, but things were desperate.

   As if in response to Morris’ thoughts, Danlen whispered, “I’ve never hurt anyone before. Now I’m probably going to have to kill someone.” He raised his head and looked Morris in the eye. “I’m scared of that, more than anything else,” he confessed.

   “Me too,” Morris admitted, as a shared understanding passed between them.

   “Maybe that’s why so many refused to come,” the younger mutant offered, breaking the moment, “they didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

   “But it’s our home!” Morris replied with quiet passion. “There’s nowhere to go if we don’t defend ourselves, our place in the universe, right now. Nixon isn’t going to go away and leave us alone, even if we don’t resist him.”

   Danlen thumped Morris on the shoulder in an encouraging gesture. The role-reversal struck Morris as amusing, and his lips twitched with a smile of their own. “I was at the park with my sisters when you came.” The younger mutant ducked his head but spoke with sincerity. “I’m sorry so many chose to stay, though I don’t really blame them.”

   “Me too, and me neither.” The cyclops sighed. “I’ve got a family to look after too, and I’d rather be with them than anywhere else.”

Despite that understanding, Turanga Morris had had a hard dose of disillusionment when so many refused to come. “We have nowhere to keep them safe, if we can’t keep them safe here.” Danlen nodded in silent agreement, his eyes far away.

   “So we’ve got to keep them safe here.” Morris affirmed his own words, determination awakening in him once again. Something in his voice must have caught the younger mutant’s attention, for he looked up suddenly with a fire in his eyes.

   “Let’s go.”

   Their devotion to their loved ones renewing their heroism, Morris and Danlen left the tiny bit of rubble they’d been crouched behind and entered the fray. It was none too soon for a small group of lightly armed mutants. They were pinned down by crossfire in one of the few rickety buildings still stubbornly standing against the onslaught of the enemy.

   Morris darted out and was fired at almost immediately. He had no time to turn and check that the kid was following. One blast brought others and Turanga Morris raced hopelessly towards the invaders attacking the huddled group.

Without warning, time, so slyly mutable, slowed dramatically.  Indeed, Morris was not even aware of the change until he heard Danlen’s cry. It was long, unnaturally extended, and all the more appalling for the minutiae made clear in the strangled voice. No one with a heart could ignore that piercing sound.

   Strangely detached from himself, Morris spun in exquisite slowness, reaching for the falling mutant. A sudden heaviness flooded over him and Morris couldn’t catch Danlen. This confused him, and he tried to lean further only to realize that, at some point, he had fallen to he rotten boards of the wharf. Icy cold shock invaded him and Morris knew that he’d been hit.

   The cyclops felt no pain, only a powerful numbness. As his mind began to shut down, Morris reflected that the absence of pain was probably a bad thing. “I meant to do more than this,” he tried to say, but the darkness pulled him down first.


   The unlikely band of foiled escapees were firmly escorted through the unchanging corridors, but not back to the cell as they’d expected. Amy had a general idea of the ship’s layout, and not just from her semi-regular visits with the little green love machine. She was, after all, studying to be an engineer.

While there was some truth to the belief that it was her parent’s ludicrously exorbitant wealth that got Amy into Mars University, the vapid, cute, and giggly Amy was a serious student, especially when her professor was a hot guy. Her mediocre grades did not spring from apathy but rather from her passionate devotion to the noble cause of ticking off her parents. The intern had come to the conclusion that rebellion was the key, or at least one of the keys, to lasting youth. Familial closeness was a sacrifice she was willing to make for flawless skin and a perfect body.

   The leader of the agents met the group less than a minute after they’d been captured. He said nothing to them, and it was a nothing far more frightening than words could ever be… unless they came in the form of terrifying acronyms such as SKFC and IRS. The man did not glare at them, or smile at their capture. He simply fell into step with the guards, with a face that looked like it had been carved out of Elzar’s week old bread.

   Amy frowned, troubled as they turned again and passed by the holo-chamber. No, they weren’t going anywhere near the cells. Her trepidation must have shown clearly on her beautiful face because Hermes was watching her in uneasy confusion.

Most of the colour had washed out of Kif’s head and what remained was shifting subtly. Kiffy was fighting nerves. What could make the courageous, yet spineless lieutenant so frightened, if her parents weren’t anywhere nearby?

   Whispered conversations filled the hallways around them as they passed by agents and crew alike. There was no mistaking the malicious glee in many faces. It was undeniably focused on Zapp Brannigan.

   “Ah, my loyal crew! It’s about time you showed your faces! I’ve been waiting for the grand ceremony to restore my command.” Snickers and cruel smiles greeted Zapp’s pompous words. One of the crewmen when so far as to salute sarcastically.

   The odd little party and the small crowd of hangers-on that had boldly elected to gather gossip for the benefits of their fellow crewmembers moved through the ship until their little stroll ultimately gave way to a rather ominous airlock. ‘Of course,’ Amy thought bleakly, wishing she did not know as much as she did about the effects of vacuum and near absolute-zero temperatures on the fabulous human body.

Not that the temperature really mattered.

When it came down to it, even if it had been a balmy 28 degrees Celsius out there, it still would mean a not-nearly-quick-enough death. Even worse, her beautiful figure would explode if she held her breath.

   “What is the meaning of this? Am I being promoted to admiral?” Brannigan demanded. “Is this some sort of surprise party?” No one answered him.

   Someone hit a panel on the hatch, which cycled open invitingly. The calm, business-like expressions of the agents were a sharp contrast with the nearly manic, raptly interested expressions of the handful of Nimbus crewmen who had not scattered once seeing the airlock.

A deep, strange sadness gripped the intern, not for her fate, or even for Kif’s, but rather for the harsh reality of a profession where life meant nothing and causing death was no more than blowing a puff of air to extinguish a candle. Why can’t we all just go shopping?

   The feeling did not last long. It was crushed out by black terror as the four prisoners were forced into the airlock.

   “Are you really going to kill us?!” she demanded as her panicky lungs began gasping for air as though it had already been stolen from her.

   “Me?” came the mild question, “No. My orders say nothing of your deaths.” Andrew shrugged easily.

   “So you’re not going to blow us into space?” Kif asked, his gentle voice ragged with relief. It was such a violent phrase coming from someone so sensitive. ‘Everything he says sounds wonderful,’ Amy reflected, falling in love with him all over again.

   “I’m not.” Andrew replied, heavily emphasizing the first word. Amy’s heart sank. “Since you didn’t appreciate the accommodations in the brig, I though we’d upgrade you to an airlock. Weakest spots on a ship in some ways, and the strongest in others.” He looked at them levelly, “and not too many people are stupid enough to mess with one when it’s all that’s keeping them pressurized.”

   With that, the hatch was sealed shut, leaving them in the dark with a sky full of stars. Zapp instantly started wailing, lamenting his fate and making sure everyone within earshot knew it. Unfortunately, they were the only ones who could hear him, and they didn’t care.

   Hermes seemed inclined for a good lament himself, but he was quieter about it, speaking more to himself than to anyone else. “Zombie Nana was right. I should have listened to her and stayed in the shack. Ever since I met Zoidberg I knew my life would be a series of unfortunate events ended by a highly improbable, ridiculously clichéd death.” He sighed heavily, "although I’d always hoped I’d have the pleasure of seeing Zoidberg die in the gutter first, after stabbing him with a shrimp fork.”

   “Hmm… well, actually, death by airlock failure is actually quite common. It’s the third leading cause of death among space crews, right behind crossing Mom and corrupt employers.” Kif offered helpfully.

   “How interesting,” Amy cooed supportively. “Where did you ever hear about that, Kif?”

   The little green man ducked his bulbous head bashfully. “I did a little research when I found out I was assigned to the Nimbus.”

   Hermes was not impressed. “Keep it to yourself, you lipless reptile. Some of us are trying to sulk.”

   “Well, actually, I’m not really reptilian. I suppose if you were going to compare me to with an Earthican species-“

   Hermes’ murderous look finally got through to the sheepish, amphibian-ish, lieutenant.

   Amy moved to reassure him, linking her arm with his and pulling him close.

   “It’s a beautiful view,” she murmured, staring out at the stars.

   “Yes, it is,” Kif agreed in his
mild way.

   “And so romantic. You know this reminds me of our first meeting on that doomed ship that Zapp piloted into a black hole.” Hermes rolled his eye in exasperation.

   Now more than ever, the prisoners knew they were in deep trouble. All it would take was one crewman with a grudge and they’d be skinny dipping in space, and there was no dearth of such crewmembers on the Nimbus.

   ‘But they like Kif’, Amy thought hopefully, ‘surely, that would stop them from killing us.’ Not satisfied with the attention he was getting, Zapp bawled louder and Hermes growled audibly. ‘Then again, it can’t be a good sign that Hermes looks about ready to push the button himself.’


   Bender skittered wildly into the warehouse, spun on his heels, slammed the heavy doors shut and held them there with all his might.  “Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad!” he cried before the words dissolved into alarmed babbles.

   Farnsworth woke creakily. “What did you do to my ship this time?!” he demanded angrily, looking around in an attempt to focus his tirade.

   “Fry did it.” Bender blurted out without missing a beat.

   “Tell my uncle he’s fired!” Farnsworth bellowed before dropping off to sleep again.

   Obligingly, Bender let go of the door, as well as his artificial anxiety and made his way over to where Fry lay, fighting for his life. “Yo, buddy, good news! Your life expectantly just quadrupled!” The robot patted his friend’s limp head with the gentlest of touches. Still brightly, he continued, “Now let’s book before the giant robot cracks open this building like those diabolical can openers have been doing to bending units for years!”

   “He’s coming? Now?!” the doctor cried in alarm.

   “That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Bender responded saucily as he returned to brace the door again.

   Chastity looked at Munda, who slowly raised her head and winked her reddened eye before whispering, “We can’t move them, can we?” It wasn’t really a question.

   The doctor shook her head from where she was huddled over Fry. “Maybe Leela, but not Fry. He’s too unstable. If we move him, I’m afraid we’ll lose him.” A series of booming impacts heralded Nixon’s approach.

   “Ah,” drawled Bender, “Well, in that case, there’s no point in worrying about the towering leader advancing on us, dragging Nixon’s head along with him.”

   Munda was sick with worry for her missing husband, but there was no time to think about that at the moment. When a large chunk of rubble worked its way from the ceiling and smashed violently on the floor, a little shriek of terror slipped involuntarily out of Munda’s throat.

Despite the fact it had landed nowhere near them, Munda threw herself protectively over Leela in instinctive reaction, a testament to how tightly wound her nerves were. When nothing else happened, she stood, the faintest blush of embarrassment touching her cheeks. With gentle hands, Munda soothed away any hurt she may have caused her unconscious daughter.

“He’ll have to get through me,” Munda promised. It was the only promise she had left to give.

An alarm went off in one of the Professor’s machines, startling the cyclops. “What’s wrong?” she demanded, turning towards the doctor. However, with one look at the doctor, she had her answer already. Dr. Rumelle had just unhooked Leela from the life sign monitor.

   “We’ll get Leela out at least,” she said smoothly, wearing a mask of professional detachment on her face that would have caused a Neutral to nod thoughtfully. There were troubling undercurrents in her eyes, however, that Munda did not like the look of one bit.

   Munda found herself bundling a blanket around Leela long before her thoughts caught up with her actions. “What about him?” she asked, gesturing towards the redhead.

   “I’ll stay with him and defend him as best I can.” Munda was about to object when the doctor cut her off briskly. “Listen to me, Munda. I’m a doctor, he’s my patient. We can’t move him, so I will stay with him. Fry’s not a mutant, he’s not!” she insisted defensively, as if Munda would argue.

“And from what you’ve told me, they’d be more interested in capturing him than killing him anyway. Once they’ve got him, they’ll runs tests of him. Eventually, they’ll figure out that he’s not a mutant. Maybe they’ll let him go.”

A troubling thought occurred to the doctor. “Although, for your daughter’s sake, I hope they don’t, because they’ll be after her next.”

   “What if they do find out?! He’ll be useless to them. I don’t want him to die!” The mother moaned in dismay. Fry had tried so hard to help Leela. Did it really have to be this way?

   “There’s nothing else I can do for him here anyway, Munda. If Leela couldn’t help him, maybe there are surface doctors, real doctors, who can.”

   “You are a real doctor.” Munda said weakly.

   “Not enough of one for Fry, I’m afraid, but maybe someone else can help him.”

   In her heart, however, Chastity knew there was no hope of that. She was nearly certain that the shock of yanking Leela out of his mind would be the last straw for him. Fry would finally lose the battle he had fought so hard to win. The redhead would never make it to the surface with the invaders; there wouldn’t be enough time for them to save him.

   ‘Professional, professional,’ she chanted the litany in her head as she reached for the Professor’s device, trying to steady herself with the knowledge that his death by her actions would be kinder than anything Nixon would offer.

She wondered sickly how she could break the news to Munda that they would have to get rid of Fry’s body at some point, thus protecting not just Leela, but the entire mutant population of Earth from enslavement.

Chastity spared one glance at his face, though she knew it would only make things harder. She needed to take that responsibility, knowing it would burden her for the rest of her days. Chastity wished she could ask Fry’s permission, or at least thank him for his selflessness. She knew already that he would be willing to make that sacrifice, though she didn’t really know him at all. His actions had brought him to her, and had revealed his character in the process.

   ‘You’re a hero, she whispered tenderly to him in her spirit, hoping that somehow his own spirit could hear it, ‘and we’ll never forget it.’

   Chastity’s normally rock steady hands shook as she lifted the device. It was a violation of everything she believed. She would never be able to practice her healer’s skills again without experiencing this betrayal of her ethics. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, apologizing for not being able to save him, and for taking away his lifeline.

   “Stop,” came the time-wearied voice. “Let me do that. It’s my invention, you know, at least, it is unless I forget it in a dream.” Professor Hubert Farnsworth stepped in and took the device from her numbed fingers. Did he realize what this would do to Fry? Chastity knew the two men were close.

   “As his only living relative, this is my responsibility, my fortuitous responsibility, and I’m going to do it, so there!” He leaned over closer to the doctor and whispered, “Besides, there are a lot of genetic abnormalities around that will need a good doctor.”

She stared at him in astonishment, at his clarity of understanding. He chuckled manically, “I am a genius, you know, even though I am so very old.” He shooed her back away from the device with a warning. “I’m going to do this as gently as possible, although that’s not really my style, but I wouldn’t be surprised if this stopped hearts, including mine.”

Wordlessly, Chastity prepared Leela for CPR.

   Munda, once again separated from her daughter, felt a chill go through her as the doctor approached Leela and not Fry, who was undoubtedly more fragile. Her head swam as she understood the reasoning, even as she fought to deny the conclusion. “Forgive us, Leela,” she whispered as tears flowed anew down her face.

   An earth shattering crash sent debris falling everywhere as Robotic Nixon stormed into the building, right through the unresisting walls, knocking Bender across the room.

   “This just in: we’re boned!” he called cheerfully as he flew by.


   Leela was watching the delivery boy intently, but as interested as she was in this unprecedented glimpse into his head, her mind was not entirely focused on his halting words. She was intensely focused on her friend, but on his condition rather than the events that had shaped him. If it wasn’t obvious to Fry, it was obvious to Leela that his mental state was deteriorating.

   Fry was disoriented and had begun occasionally slipping beneath the dark waters when he moved carelessly. Most alarming to the cyclops was his lack of reaction when this happened. He didn’t seem to notice or care when the water closed over his head, even after Leela hauled him out.

She herself felt dizzy and sick with worry for her friend. Fright gave way to a sudden burst of distraught frustration, and she pounded the unyielding rock with all her strength, startling the delivery boy out of his reverie.

   “What are you doing?!” he demanded, panic in his voice. The cyclops cursed her own lack of control. If she didn’t calm Fry, he would sink into the water again. Fighting to control herself, she replied in a wavery voice, “I need to get us out of here, Fry. The water is rising.”

Suffocation loomed overhead as surely as the threat of drowning. The sealed cavern offered no hope of escape and the air was getting thick with carbon dioxide. ‘Either way we’re dead,’ she thought bleakly. Fry had that resigned look on his face again, like a lamb awaiting slaughter.

   “You shouldn’t be here,” he murmured solemnly. “This was my choice, not yours.” Even the vacant-eyed delivery boy could not miss the smoldering glimmer of anger in her eye. Quickly he added, “I know. I know. ‘Together or not at all, Captain.” He tossed off an archaic salute, before adding sadly, “But if it turns out to be not at all, I’ll never forgive myself for letting you die with me. That’s not what heroes are supposed to do.”

Leela rolled her eye expressively. “Don’t worry about it, Fry. You’ll probably die first anyway. I can swim.”

The morbid gallows humour actually seemed to cheer the redhead slightly. “Mom was right. There is an upside to everything.”

   “Exactly. You should always listen to your mother,” Leela said lightly, thinking of her own.

   “Can’t anymore,” Fry sighed sadly, beginning to sink again. “Maybe I can listen to yours?” he asked hopefully.

   Leela gave up any hope that Fry could stay above water on his own. Sliding next to him, the cyclops wound her arm around his waist, then, carefully bracing herself for balance, she let go of the rock face and slung the redhead’s weary arm over her shoulder.

“I’m sure it would thrill her.” She was rewarded with his faint smile.

   After a few seconds, Fry let his head tip sideways to rest on hers. Leela relaxed against the friendly intimacy, shifting her head just slightly so that wet red hair wasn’t poking her in the eye. It was such a childlike position for him to be in, and feelings of protectiveness rose up in her again.

“You’re exhausted,” she whispered, though she was no less so.

   “Leela?” he began softly after some time had passed.


   “Where are we?”

   The quiet question caught Leela’s attention. “Don’t you know?” she asked, keeping her voice level.

   “No,” he replied blearily, eyes closed. “We’re in trouble though, aren’t we?”

   “Yeah,” she replied, staring over the dark waters.



   “I’m sorry.” Fry sounded so repentant.

   “For what?” she asked, keeping her voice gentle, as though he were a small child looking for comfort.

   His brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t remember. Whatever I did to get us in trouble this time.”

   Leela’s breath caught, but her voice remained steady, even though the effort cost her dearly. “It’s not your fault, Fry. You did everything right.”

   The redhead frowned in uncertainty, “I did?”

   “Yep,” Leela said firmly, not wanting him to doubt her sincerity.

   “Oh… well, good then.” He leaned heavier against her, clinging to her now as the water splashed his chin.

   Glad to have provided him with a little comfort, the cyclops closed her eye, shutting out the water and darkness as best she could. Leela breathed in and out, and listened to Fry’s breathing. She let his closeness comfort her as she rarely let it before. They were all each other had now, and there was no one to whisper or gossip.

Holding tight to Fry, Leela could not feel the tickle of the cold water as it climbed. More than that, the delivery boy seemed to possess a strange power in that moment. He was cloaking her own despair. She stood there, supporting him, and believed, truly believed, that everything was going to be all right.


A sound drew Leela from her reverie. Fry was humming, eyes closed, and fighting fear. The melody was nothing Leela had heard before, just a simple, childish tune. He seemed to get lost in his memories so easily now, as though he was fading away from the strange reality where they were trapped.

Her own fear intruded on them harshly as she stood on her toes to keep their faces out of the water. In response to her movement, Fry’s humming shifted into scattered words.

   “…happy, when skies are grey,”

   Leela called to him gently. “Fry?” But the redhead kept humming. She tried again. “What are you singing, Fry?”

   His eyes remained closed for a minute, before fluttering open. “Oh, hi Leela. What are you doing here?” he smiled warmly at her.

   “Taking care of you. What else would I be doing?” She tried to sound irritated; it made her feel strong, but her quavery voice betrayed her.

   Fry didn’t seem to notice. “I dunno. Thanks though.” His eyes began to drift closed again, so she tried to catch his attention.

   “What’s the song?” She squeezed him tighter.

   “Hmm... oh, this? Nothing much. Just an old song. It’s been stuck in my head for, I dunno, seems like forever.”

   For a moment, his eyes opened, and fear struck the cyclops. They were so lifeless. She had to keep him awake. “Sing it for me?”

   “’Kay,” he agreed easily before beginning in an unsteady tenor, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey. You’ll never know, dear, how much I…” Fry looked at her, suddenly more alert, and stopped singing.

   “Sweet tune,” Leela offered, feeling uncomfortable under the intensity of his gaze. At least he was looking at her.

   “Yeah,” the redhead shrugged, before urgently saying, “This isn’t really the best time, but we’re running out of time. Leela, I want you to know…that you are my sunshine.”

   What a silly thing to say.

   Emotion choked her. Denial of their fate mixed with fear and sorrow, and a desperate desire to hold Fry, to tell him it would be alright, that they would be alright. He was still looking at her. Leela tried to joke; it was all she could do.

   “So you’ve been walking on me for all these years?” she blurted shakily, trying to force a smile.

   Fry stared at her in confused alarm. “No, Leela, why would you say-?”

   She launched into a song of her own, all she had ever heard of it. “I’m walking on sunshine, whoa-oh! And don’t it feel good!”

   He stared at for a minute, then smiled sweetly.
   The water level was nearly over Leela’s head, and Fry was losing his grip on reality. He was singing again, and looking at her. The resignation in his eyes tore at her, and she knew that at least some part of him understood that he was going to die.

Fry went abruptly limp and slipped from her grasp, beneath the surface. All of her grief and resignation flashed to panic. Leela pulled him up, but she was losing purchase fast. Soon, she would no longer be able to protect him. Her feet could no longer touch bottom and the cyclops desperately tried to tread water enough to support both of them.

   “You make me happy, when skies are grey. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine-” and he was under again.

She didn’t have the strength to lift his head out of the cold water that had sapped her energy. Soon, she would not be able to fight anymore either. A calmness took her. A moment of decision. Fry had made the choice for her, and the least she could do…

   Leela plunged beneath the dark waters and pushed Fry up until she touched bottom. Then, she waited for death to take her, knowing it was hopeless; he would die soon after. There was nothing else.

She thought of her parents, her friends, her life. She was sorry it would end like this, without a word of goodbye, but Leela could not leave Fry to die alone. She was a captain, and he was her crewmate, more than that, he was her friend. He was Fry.

Leela’s lungs heaved involuntarily, trying to suck in air, and after a few seconds, she could no longer control the need to breathe. As she sucked in nothing but black water, she clutched at Fry’s legs. Reaching up, she gave his hand one last squeeze. I love you and goodbye. You were my sunshine too, Fry.

She tried not to thrash as her fragile lungs shuddered, expelling water only to drag more in. Senses deserted her, and all she could feel was Fry’s hand, until she could no longer feel at all. Thought stayed longest, and she saw him, smiling at her, calling her sunshine. And then, there was only light.

So... I hope you like cliffies... wink


say what now

Bending Unit
« Reply #754 on: 05-05-2005 18:33 »

I'm too busy freaking out to be coherent right now. But I'll edit this when I'm sane again.

Starship Captain
« Reply #755 on: 05-05-2005 19:15 »

That was the best update...ever! big grin

“’Kay,” he agreed easily before beginning in an unsteady tenor, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey. You’ll never know, dear, how much I…” Fry looked at her, suddenly more alert, and stopped singing.

This song fits perfectly with this chapter. It reallly adds something to the story. If Futurama wasn't canceled, they would robaly use this song it fits great with all this drama.

She thought of her parents, her friends, her life. She was sorry it would end like this, without a word of goodbye, but Leela could not leave Fry to die alone. She was a captain, and he was her crewmate, more than that, he was her friend. He was Fry.

Awww... how depressing. cry  I thought that this was one of the best parts of the chapter, Leela seems to be in character, as do all the rest of the people.
I think this is my favorite chapter, just for the Fry and Leela parts of it.



“I’m sorry.” Fry sounded so repentant.

“For what?” she asked, keeping her voice gentle, as though he were a small child looking for comfort.

His brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t remember. Whatever I did to get us in trouble this time.”

Leela’s breath caught, but her voice remained steady, even though the effort cost her dearly. “It’s not your fault, Fry. You did everything right.”

You never cease to amaze me, that seemed so like Fry to say that.
Keep up the wonerful work. I'm waiting to read another dramatic chapter.

Starship Captain
« Reply #756 on: 05-05-2005 19:32 »
« Last Edit on: 05-05-2005 19:32 »

    eek     eek
What... How... Who... When???

That can't be the end!!! It can't be!!!    confused
Don't let this end this way. Tell me (and us)that there is a part 50 on the way.

Anyway, that part was great. (The you are my sunshine part made me uncomfortable. It was like Fry's mind was realy slipping away. That was really weird.)

So???    confused  Is this the end of your fic? Please say no.

Bye for now.

Edit: Ok now I feel stupid. I did not understand what you told me last time. So there will be another part of this story after all. Now I can breathe easily. Oh and btw, you are forgiven. Take your time, I am rewriting and corecting parts of it. It should look better next week. (It may also attract new readers.   wink )



Bending Unit
« Reply #757 on: 05-05-2005 19:48 »

Whoa! NIC! Breathe, dear, breathe! There is most definitely a part 50 coming. I am not so cruel as to end it like that... unless it's a cliffie, and then it's only a temporary ending. So, yes, I do intend to clean up the mess I made.  smile And this will be so much fun!

I'm floored (étonné) that I actually made you feel uncomfortable. Honestly, I can't think of higher praise, so thank you! Fry slipping away was definately the idea I was going for.

Somehow, I can't imagine them actually using that song, because I can't imagine them ever getting all sappy, like me! Still, I'm so glad you like the song, as it just semed to work very well for me. I'm so touched by your kind words. I do try very hard to make sure the characters are saying something I think they'd say, given the horrible circumstances I put them through.

say what now: Oh, you just made my day. I'm completely cracking up, thank you! Good luck on becoming sane again. This is not the easiest place to do it.  wink

Starship Captain
« Reply #758 on: 05-05-2005 20:04 »

Checking pulse… Ok. Checking if still breathing… Ok but need a mint.

I’m okay Layla. (Still looking for a mint) You did trouble me at first. I was afraid that this was the end. But I look back at your last update and saw that I misread you. Now I feel better. You are a really good writer. I had to shut my phone off at work to read the last few paragraphs in peace. Thank god my boss left before I did that. (I have been on the phone for 6 hours non-stop today. I am shot.) That’s why I reacted that way.

Anyway, I have to go back to work now. (30 min left yeah)  big grin 

Bye for now.

Urban Legend
« Reply #759 on: 05-05-2005 20:19 »
« Last Edit on: 05-05-2005 20:19 »

Like a beacon of entertainment in the cruel, uncaring seas of finals week, Layla's story once again shines forth.

Is it bad when another site had "Shipping Update" as a topic on its news page, and I thought of Layla?

Anyhow, wonderful, fantastical update.  I'll address it by storyline:

Saving Private Morris: Excellent drama, and one place I can definitely excuse a relative lack of humor.  This falls into the "darker than Futurama" category, but again it's just so well-done and emotionally involving that I have to appreciate it.   
“Tell me about it,” chuckled Bertie, a tall mutant who had four sets of hands that jutted out of his body without the benefits of a single arm. Strained laughter broke out and some of the tension in the air diffused.
Just an opinion, but that would be a perfect line for leg-mutant.  I mean, you can't have mutants in your story and not have leg-mutant.  Though if you switch to him, also remove the laughter bit; his three or so jokes work better deadpan.
The horrors of war...they always make for great dialogue when applied to fictional characters, and you as usual capitalize on that greatly.  Also, great "last" words by Morris.  The words of 98% of revolutionaries, as far as I can tell.  Word of advice: don't go around killing anybody you didn't create.  That's bad etiquette.
Quote of the moment:   
“Why on earth did they have to elect a madman with a catch phrase?”

Creature Feature: I'm still not totally comfortable with your Nibbler-writing, but Zoidy is so damn hilarious.  Excellent break from the suspense, to some degree.  Also, Morbo kicks ass.

Try humming "Beethoven's Fifth:" That obscure enough for you?
Great stuff.  Zapp over the top as usual, and a great insight into Amy, especially   
Her mediocre grades did not spring from apathy but rather from her passionate devotion to the noble cause of ticking off her parents. The intern had come to the conclusion that rebellion was the key, or at least one of the keys, to lasting youth. Familial closeness was a sacrifice she was willing to make for flawless skin and a perfect body.
Seeing things from Amy's POV is always interesting, and you manage to sap it up with her feelings for Kif without ruining the narrative flow, which some people who write professionally for science fiction-based animated sitcoms tended to do.
Hermes's soliloquizing was also great. Heheh, "shrimp fork."

Shack, MD: Great suspenshipping (I made a new word!  I could be President!) here, as well as funny stuff from Farnsie and Bender.  Who else here always figured Farnsworth would be responsible for the death of at least one of his ancestors?  Just kidding.  I hope.  For your sake, mostly.  I also liked Bender's perception of the Presidency:   
“Well, in that case, there’s no point in worrying about the towering leader advancing on us, dragging Nixon’s head along with him.”

The Good Ship Mortal Peril: Wow.  Just...Wow.  The drama.  The emotion.  And all of it makes in-character sense.  Mostly.  Did I mention I love that song? Philp covered the highlights for me, but let me just say great characterization on both of them - you got the motivations down pretty well.  All I can think to say is "you have to wake up, Fry."

Can't wait for the exciting conclusion...that will probably be in another thread.  You have a hell of a lot of fans, Layla.

Whoever posts next signs the thread's Death Warrant.  Just FYI.
Pages: 1 ... 16 17 18 [19] 20 Print 
 Topic locked! 
« previous next »
Jump to:  

Powered by SMF | SMF © 2006, Simple Machines | some icons from famfamfam
Legal Notice & Disclaimer: "Futurama" TM and copyright FOX, its related entities and the Curiosity Company. All rights reserved. Any reproduction, duplication or distribution of these materials in any form is expressly prohibited. As a fan site, this Futurama forum, its operators, and any content on the site relating to "Futurama" are not explicitely authorized by Fox or the Curiosity Company.
Page created in 0.443 seconds with 17 queries.