Sine Wave's Fanfiction

[Reply #160 on:]

Senseless question -> senseless bump.

Oh, nothing wrong with an occasional pointless bump, after all it's the second one in a row in this thread...

And I have a feeling the "burning question" might be answered soon.


Top-of-the-page interpretive dance...
not drunk in the woods though...

[Reply #161 on:]

Well, to pick you all up on the answer bus from the anticipation station, the truth is that Arcsin is indeed one of my many nemeses. His actual method, were he to apprehend me, would be to flay me alive. I've actually set up a search algorithm that I run every day to find out if any forum accounts have been made under that name. However, my real arch-nemesis is Sine Wave + pi. If the two of us ever joined the same board, both of our accounts would vanish.

p.s. I think interpretive dance and intoxicants are two things that would probably work well in combination.

[Reply #162 on:]

<3  x  n2pi  +  6.022 x 10^23


..I have no idea what that equals, but it's an approximation of the awesomeness of the above.

Arcsin the Archnemesis?

Well, you think biking and intoxicants are two things that work well together, so naturally.  :P
Alos, you'd probably need some intoxicants if I were to attempt an interpretive dance.

If the two of us ever joined the same board, both of our accounts would vanish.

Ah, I don't know; you'd best be more concerned with the individual who, um, 'borrowed' half of your title. 

[Reply #163 on:]

Mathematics makes my brain hurt.

[Reply #164 on:]

You know what they say, if you can't take the derivative, get out of the eigenspace.

[Reply #165 on:]

but Sine, you are your derivative, minus a phase factor.

[Reply #166 on:]

I love you two witty bantering physics-mongers.


Even when I have no idea what you're talking about.

[Reply #167 on:]

Because JN actually updated (!) and soylentOrange made fun of me that one time. Thanks to km as always.

------------------------

Fry walked down the staircase into the dark kitchen. From the doorway, he could hear the small TV in Rachel’s room, and see the flickers of light as it changed in brightness. The few sweet hours of mind-numbing television late at night were the only respite that they had from the mind-numbing tedium of their day, and even if all they had to watch was reruns of Pimp My Body, it was better than nothing. He walked in and sat next to Rachel on her bed, the room lacking any other furniture.

“Rob,” Rachel said after a few moments, “it looks like something’s bothering you. What is it? Did the vending machine at work run out of Knave of Heart’s Tarts again?”

“No,” Fry said, “it’s just Laura. She hasn’t given me a break since we got here.”

“That’s not fair. You haven’t really messed anything up, have you?”

“No. Well, maybe, but not really, I think.”

“Just don’t let her get to you, Rob. Some trannies are just like that, always stuck up about something or other,” Rachel said, shifting her position on the bed and ending up several inches closer to Fry.

“But she’s not... I mean, I hope she’s not-”

“No, I mean a transhuman, silly.”

Fry just stared at her blankly. Rachel, having seen that look from him before, decided to just drop it, and turned her attention back to the television. She flicked through a few of the channels available to those without HD retinal converters before turning it off.

“Um, I guess I’d better go to bed,” Fry said after she hit the power button, and made for the door.

“Oh, I don’t want you to spend another night on the floor,” Rachel said almost to herself. Suddenly sitting up, she nearly burst out, “You can stay in here tonight, if you want.”

Fry’s eyes almost dislodged themselves from his skull. “Oh no, no, no, I’ll be fine. Uh, really, heheh, I’ll be, fine.” He quickly finished backing out of the room and shut the door.

“Poo,” Rachel murmured, and turned off the light.

------------

Leela sat down in front of the TV with a sigh, drawing Clarice’s attention up from her nanotube-knitting.

“What’s getting you down?”

“Oh, nothing, just work, I guess,” Leela said.

“Well, work is work. Just leave it there,” Clarice said.

“I know, but it just seems like no matter what I do, there’s always something that I get blamed for.”

“Hey, everyone needs someone to shirk things on to. It’s part of life, not something personal.”

Leela cast an involuntary glance at the cellar door, but quickly brought her mind back to the conversation.

“I tell you what,” Clarice said, “I’m going to a body enhancement trade show tomorrow night- Cybertech is going to have its full new line on display. Want to come?”

“Oh, uh, no thanks. I think a quiet night to myself might do me some good, though.”

“Oh, well, your loss. I hear they’re debuting an adjustable pineal gland.”

Leela feigned acknowledgment, and picked up the TV remote.

------------

Fry lay at the bottom of the staircase, limbs protruding from the blanket draped over him. He tossed and turned, thinking about what he could do to show Leela he wasn’t wholly incompetent. It seemed like she needed cheering up, but when would he get a chance to do more for her than her dishes? He was wondering if there was an Anatomical Al’s Funhouse and Plastic Surgery Center nearby, when he heard voices echoing from upstairs.

“I tell you what, I’m going to a body enhancement trade show tomorrow night...”

------------

President Nixon sat asleep in the dark, cooing softly, on his desk in the Oval Office. A buzzer sounded; he stirred, and spun himself away from the direction the noise came from. The buzzer sounded again, and on the third time he started to wake up. He grumbled, and pulled up the videoscreen.

“Aroo?”

“We have located the position of the mop-top and his luscious accomplice,” Zapp said.

“It’s about time. How soon can you invade?”

“In,” Zapp stopped to count on his fingers, “three days.”

Nixon began to growl. “Three days? He could be anywhere by then!”

“Well, certain preparations must be made before battle. Kif, tell him.”

Kif sighed, and opened a copy of Brannigan’s Big Book of War. “Before starting an invasion of a hostile planet, there are several measures that have to be taken. First, you must determine if the native species is physically able to make love to a virile human male. Secondly, gather enough soldiers to form wave after wave of surprise attacks. Third, don’t forget to bring velour handcuff-”

“Enough!” Nixon said. “Do what you have to do, just don’t mess this up.”

“Affirmative,” Zapp said, and the screen went blank.

Nixon sighed, and shifted his head back and forth in his jar, trying to find that comfortable spot he was sleeping in before. Wait, no, a little – ooh yeah, that’s good. The screen retracted into his desk automatically, and his cooing resumed.

[Reply #168 on:]

debuting an adjustable pineal gland

[Beavis] Heh-Heh, I thought you said penial gland.  [Beavis]

Your Zapp, is, as always, great.

I had to go back aways to remind myself of the plot, and I stumbled across a line I remember liking at the time, and still do!

"These people were enough to make Fry and Bender look fairly incompetent in comparison, instead of incredibly so."

Geez, if Sine and I are actually posting, I guess Venus isn't far behind (or Layla!).  Speaking of which, did Venus ever post her fic in one piece somewhere?

but Sine, you are your derivative, minus a phase factor.

At least he's not named Exponential, then his work would be derivative of himself, which would be lame.

**slinks away**

[Reply #169 on:]

Oh, JN beat me here. You don't have to slink anywhere, JN...  However you can stumble, since this fic is chock full of lines like that to 'stumble across'...

Fantastisch, so you did decide to update. Here, please have this:




Loving what you added to the Clarice/Leela scene, it's a nice subtle touch showing Leela's thoughts straying towards Fry; and Yay!, you fixed the "mind-numbing television" snip.

Now - To add to the wave after wave of surprises - and so as not to just tell you again all the bits I like -
I've been spelunking also..

(damn the creative writing class needing instructor permission)

Did it still?

I know how it is with real life, but once you start you gotta finish, right?  At least tell us you know what the finish is...

Why, it's a quantum finish, of course. 

@ Coldangel, Xanfor, and JustNibblin': Not to get emotional, but being a big fan of you guys' work, your comments really mean a lot to me. Thanks.

But yes, I guess I could be called a perfectionist. If I'm not doing my best, why do it at all?

Thank you all for your wonderful praise, it makes me feel better than I should. And to those commenting on my rising from the dead, the concern is endearing, and a real motivation to get my act together and write more.

God, I love you.




That'll do.

[Reply #170 on:]

wait, an update?  When did this happen? 

I had to go back and read the last couple of updates to figure out what was going on; I couldnt for the life of me remember who Rachel and Clarice were...  I really do love this story though.  It's crammed full of great Branniganisms and classic Fry moments.

That line about Leela being a 'trannie' had me cracking up.  I can just imagine what would've been going through Fry's mind at that moment

[Reply #171 on:]

I had to go back aways to remind myself of the plot

I had to go back and read the last couple of updates to figure out what was going on; I couldnt for the life of me remember who Rachel and Clarice were...

w00t update schedules!

(damn the creative writing class needing instructor permission)

Did it still?

No, it didn't. Turns out I had been looking at an upper level course, because the intro class wasn't listed as an offered course until the day of signing up for classes.

Thanks for the kind words about my writing (story and otherwise), and see you again with another page and a half of writing five months from now.

[Reply #172 on:]

That was a bad, bad idea.

[Reply #173 on:]

what was? the creative writing class?

[Reply #174 on:]

Oh, no, the writing class was a good idea. Example here. I just put something here last night as a joke and then realized that it wasn't funny at all.

Anyway, actual update coming soon possibly maybe.

[Reply #175 on:]

I'm going to hold you to that actual possible maybe promise of an update, you know.

[Reply #176 on:]

Good, you do that. 

(And sO - chortles at the screenshot you posted in the pics thread.  I hadn't seen that before).

Sine: It was funny.   In fact it was very funny.  One could even say it was... esoterically funny.  Just not under certain circumstances, I guess.

Here, have an awesome mathy symbol for your efforts, both of you. 


'Fancy symbols'.

[Reply #177 on:]

Part Five – The Part in Which Everything Happens

Fry sat alone in the dark of the dining room, listening to the sounds outside in the hallway. The clomping of Clarice rushing up and down the stairs had stopped, which meant she was finally almost ready to go. Apparently cybernetic implants don’t keep you from forgetting what you set down on your dresser. A new, much more attractive set of clomping noises faded in, and his heart began beating faster as he heard voices in the hallway.

“You sure you don’t want to come?”

“No, I’m fine. Rob and Rachel should have dinner out soon, anyway. Have fun.”

Fry heard the front door open and close, and eagerly waited in anticipation. He had spent all afternoon getting everything just right for this. He talked Rachel into going out for the night, and as soon as he got off of work he went straight into the kitchen. He didn’t know exactly what chicken cord-on blue was, but he had seen people eat it in fancy restaurants on TV and he did his best to cook it right, even though he was skeptical of the recipe’s lack of an extension cord and paint. Now the places were both set, he was nicely dressed and relatively recently bathed, and nothing could go wrong.

The door behind him clicked open.

“Hey Rob, Bragg’s Diffraction Discotheque was closed today for retooling, so I just came back here, and  - Oh my god! Rob, you shouldn’t have!”

Fry’s eyes went wide, accompanied by a wordless gag of attempting to stop her. His eyes went wider still when he heard the door at the other end of the room open, and saw who was walking in. Then, eyes open as wide as possible, the weight of a thousand suns sank into his belly as he turned his head back and found Rachel’s face rushing dangerously close to his.

And then it happened.

By the time Rachel’s lips left his, Fry was almost realizing what was happening, and the only thing he could feel was a semi-circular hole being burnt into the side of his face.

Leela, for her part, was in an equally confused state as Fry as she entered the room. However, about 30 milliseconds after she entered that confusion had been successfully converted into pure anger. Not the explosive, brash anger that spurs bar fights and scientific debate. No, this went beyond that. This was a deep, festering anger. Mastermind a complex, but ultimately foiled assassination plot anger. Form a flawed psychiatric theory centered around projecting your inner torment onto others anger. “We are disappointed in you” without pretending to be just disappointed. And it was all conveyed through her gaze, and a sentence.

“Fry, I’m leaving.”

With that, she calmly, controlledly walked out of the doorway and upstairs to her room. In the dining room, stillness hung as Fry remained frozen in his chair, face towards the door.

“Rob, are you all right?” Rachel said, turning Fry’s still-shocked face toward her. “Why are you shaking like that? Was it something I said? Rob?”

------------

“Go away, Fry,” Leela told the incessant pounding on her bedroom door.

“But Leela, please, you have to-”

“I don’t want to hear it, Fry.”

“But Leela-”

“Fry! Enough. It’s over.” The knocking relented. “Tomorrow I’m buying tickets for the first space-bus out of this place, and you two can live happily ever after in this hell-hole.”

“But we’re not-”

“Goodnight, Fry.”

Fry slumped against Leela’s door, staring blankly at the wall across from him. There had to be something he could do, a way to get her to listen. Would she have cooled off by morning? Well then he’d have to catch her as soon as she was leaving in the morning or she’d be gone. But seeing him would just make her leave faster. And if he met her at the spaceport he wouldn’t be able to find her in the crowd. Even if he did he’d end up trapped in the air lock trying to talk to her. And this was all banking on her believing him anyway. What if he got a robot to tell her? Robots can’t tell lies, right? Oh wait, never mind. Skywriting? No. Maybe if he put it in one of those foldable-paper-finger things that middle school girls-

It stopped. No more inferences, no more predictions, no more thoughts. It was at this point Fry realized he had been catatonic on the hallway floor for the last twenty minutes. Rolling out of a puddle of drool, he got up and walked down stairs. He had to know. He drifted through the kitchen and grabbed his wallet from the bedroom.

“Rob! I’m so sorry,” Rachel said, jerking her head up from where it had been fixed on the ground in front of her bed. When he didn’t respond, she jumped up to follow him.

“If I had known that you, and her, and I just had no place assuming that that was for me, and please,” the front door closed in front of her, “forgive me?”

[Reply #178 on:]

Key Scene of Conflict and Anger, let us see what transpires after this now...

He didn’t know exactly what chicken cord-on blue was, but he had seen people eat it in fancy restaurants on TV and he did his best to cook it right, even though he was skeptical of the recipe’s lack of an extension cord and paint.

Bragg’s Diffraction Discotheque

Robots can’t tell lies, right? Oh wait, never mind.

Yeah, like I said, I loved these.   Mm-hm, this whole section flows well and gets across the general nature of Fry and Leela's relationship again.  You do a good job in portraying Leela's anger and disappointment as being "all conveyed through her gaze" as well.
Stellar image, as I noted.

The mood and tone of strife has been established.  Will most definitely love to see what pauvre Fry does now and how Everything Else will tie in.


I have no sciencey puns right now.

[Reply #179 on:]

Hurray, I finally got a chance to read it!  To be honest, I'm completely lost.  I need to go back and re-read this fic from the beginning, because I can't for the life of me remember why Fry is cooking a romantic dinner for Leela and himself, and why Leela would be so outwardly furious at the notion of a relationship between Fry and Rachel.  I'm sure it makes complete sense.  I just have the memory of a goldfish- wait, what was I talking about again?

[Reply #180 on:]

I need to go back and re-read this fic from the beginning, because I can't for the life of me remember why Fry is cooking a romantic dinner for Leela and himself, and why Leela would be so outwardly furious of some perceived relationship between Fry and Rachel.

Succinct summation: Fry has been wanting to do something nice for Leela ever since they got to Kusanagi, to make up for her having to be there (due to his prescient perception that that is where they should be; where they need to be hiding from Zapp and the predatory notions of Nixon) and to prove that he is capable of more than merely always screwing things
up.  Thus when he overheard that Clarice was planning to go out to the cybernetic trade show for the evening, he decided to prepare a private dinner.  Which Rachel then willfully misinterprets as being for her.  As for Leela being angry, for that one needs to read between the lines a little, but I presume she is obviously not pleased to see Fry getting it on with the other servant while she has been slaving away at her menial job and staying away from Earth, the rest of the crew and Nibbler for him (or on account of him, anyway).
Helps at all?