Site Post » Reviews! Round 31 · 6:11am Nov 10th, 2013
: Listen up, maggots! We’ve got a job to do, and by the power invested in me by America, we’re going to get it done!
: Oh, no.
: Wait, what—
: Our mission is simple: To find, and if necessary, to review good fanfiction! And when I say “eliminate,” I mean to crush, grind, and char it to the bone.
: Is this what you people actually do?
: Um.
: It may be hard, men, and it won’t be easy! But as the great general Sun Tzu once said, “You don’t make an omelette without shooting a few barrel monkeys!”
: What.
: I swear, this isn’t normal. God, I hope he didn’t get into the pipe mold again.
: What.
: Do I hear insubordination over there?
No, sir!
: Good! Because if I did, we’d have to invade Canada all over again!
: He has a thing against maple syrup.
: But enough talk! We’re here for reviews, not chitterchatter! Onward, maggots—horsewords await!
ROUND 31
SO THEY’RE ON A SHIP! WHAT’RE YOU IMPLYING?!
Seriously, do you see a “Romance” tag on this story? Neither do I! And you know what? I think that’s a bit of a mislabeling, since romance is very much at the heart of this story. And no, it’s not what you’re thinking! We just went over this!
In any case, this one’s really not so much about love in the present as it is in the past. And it’s much more subdued than you might expect. It’s one of those fics that eases you into its narrative, letting the atmosphere and characters trickle into your head like sweat wrung from a used gym sock. Despite the ugly metaphor, I don’t mean it’s bad—I mean that it is extremely effective in conveying its contents to the recipient.
From the opulent environs of the S.S. Hoofington’s dining hall to the ponies occupying every corner of the fic, each seems to leap off the page. Even the bit characters show off enough to be memorable. Of course, the focus is on our two cover-image-occupying stallions and their interactions which cannot possibly be misconstrued in any way.
Blueblood stays quite true to his canon self. His thought processes read like the outflow of a gilded sewer. He’s rude to the ship’s staff, barely restrains his vulgarity to everyone else, and just generally presents himself as a loathsome individual. But at the same time, there’s an element of depth to him; his role in the story begins as a bystander, but even over the story’s relatively short 9,000-ish words, he shows signs of development.
The catalyst for all this is, of course, Noteworthy. Here, the author has free reign over his characterization, and though I’m sorry to say the stallion in question never transforms into a hideous cyclops at any point during the story, he is nonetheless an interesting character. Since his backstory takes up the bulk of the fic, he’d better be. His history, involving a few other characters we all know and love, presents a parable with a strong overarching theme that is worked into the overall narrative very well.
It’s all right there in the opening quote. Normally I’m against such things in fanfic, but here it tastefully introduces the reader to the themes, leaving them primed for more than a few thoughts by the end. There’s one big question posed by the last couple scenes, and I found myself wondering how it applied to Noteworthy within the context of the story. That speaks to my level of investment, and that in turn speaks of what you can expect from this little tale.
To say romance is a pretty big thing in fiction is as much of an understatement as saying that the sun is warm. For centuries and beyond, the relationship between lovers, give or take a side serving of lust, has blossomed (or any of the negatively-flavoured similes, if you’re CSquared) in the fantasies which give birth to the written word. Personally, it’s the emotional indulgence. Drama which is hardly significant if you think about it just a little, but still manages to be tense and gripping. Characters larger than life and, it would seem, transcended beyond spending their 8-to-5s on gainful employment. Coffee lounges. All the coffee lounges!
Also lots of technically blasé but atmospherically functional piano music.
Before the anti-shippers turn their heads away in disgust, no, this isn’t actually a BluebloodxOC fic. What it does have is a romantic soul, in that it exercises, and offers, this emotionally indulgent quality, along with a crisp night air that sets the tone excellently - and I say this as someone who first read it at eight in the morning. And it’s summer here.
A Night on Deck chooses to take multiple perspectives, giving the setup an almost cinematic quality. Rather than settling on a focus character and running with it, the author distributes the attention, rounding out the perspective of the story to be told soon after. There’s a bit of ham in some of the descriptions, a bit too much romanticism for Applejack Daniel’s, and Baker Street isn’t what I’d have gone with... but nitpicking aside, the story comes in just at the right time, when the flow lets it. Until then the reader is greeted with a solidly crafted vision of the ship’s patrons, and the pacing only butters up the attention for the meat of the matter, leading to Blueblood and Noteworthy’s cover-image encounter.
And is that meat delicious! Layer by layer the author weaves Noteworthy’s story, and in doing so builds up his character, revealing something with the shadow of a popular archetype but possessing depth more than that. Blueblood as a foil gives surprising results, and I found myself thinking, trying to figure out this oneshot character - in a story where morals have no concern, actions and consequences produce a much more distinct, yet nuanced, character for perusal. It’s ironic that the story, working so well with romanticism, plays out the B-side of giving into romanticism, and that only gives me more to respect.
A Night on Deck offers an experience not dissimilar to its name. You board the ship; you spend the night; and when you leave, you do so with but the fast-fading scent of the sea clinging to you. Perfect for a quiet night’s read, or any other time, too.
Wow. My first review. I’d like to thank the Academy, Senior TA Plum, and Obselescence’s gigantic pile of—
Oh. You mean I’ve actually got to review this thing? Dang.
Let’s get started, then, shall we?
An interpretation of Blueblood that doesn’t make you want to punch his face in? An OC whose character is neither overblown nor uninteresting? An embedded Youtube link that’s…subtle?
You’d better believe it, because all that and more can be found inside the pages of Bad_Seed_72’s A Night on Deck.
The fic tells the story of Noteworthy, a simple Earth Pony musician embarked on a cruise ship with his two most valued possessions: his saxophone, and a simple photograph. The contrast between the two is interesting; he considers the photo the most important thing that he owns (the saxophone coming in a far-off second), and it’s this juxtaposition of value and sentiment that foreshadows the ultimate choice that Noteworthy must make by the end of the fic.
The plot is simple, and the characters familiar. Blueblood is in top form here: At once both the bored, narcissistic noble and the curious onlooker, he brings a certain agency to the story that’s both refreshing and amusing to watch. His interactions with Noteworthy paint the picture of a stallion in need of something more to life, and it’s interesting to see how he ends up changing by the end. There’s more to life than rags and riches, Blueblood learns, and it’s Noteworthy’s saxophone that ends up showing him the way.
So much sax appeal.
The setting is certainly well-executed; Babs_Seed_72 gives us a clear window into a cruise ship populated by the upper crust. The nobles are grating, and the chefs—frantic to produce dinner for their impatient clients—are extremely entertaining, especially with their “authentic accents.” Ahoy, matey. Fancy some grub?
Where would I be, though, without discussing the protagonist himself? Noteworthy is a familiar archetype: the talented musician fleeing fame for freedom, choosing artistic expression over success. Contrast is once more the paint with which the author covers his canvass, as Noteworthy chooses the simple happiness of a poor harp player in the streets—our very own Lyra Heartstrings—over the professional expression of his best friend, Octavia.
This isn’t a Romance story, but it in many ways resembles one. Noteworthy is driven by a split in his soul between love for Octavia and love for his freedom, and the choice that he must make between the two is what drives the resolution here.
So kick back, relax, and take a bit out of A Night On Deck. The philosophical ideas certainly aren’t hard to swallow, and you may well find yourself asking the waiter for seconds.
A LESSON TO LEARN: SHADOWS MAKE EVERY STREET LONGER!
If you’ve ever found yourself in a bad neighborhood once night falls, you know what it does to your perceptions. Every shadow is a threat, every sound a threat, every flicker of movement a threat. We humans aren’t built for operating in the dark, and that vulnerability plays havoc with one’s psyche.
It comes in many forms—the blackness beneath your bed, the dim space between streetlights, the shadowed depths of your shoes where socks naturally dwell, etc. Then there’s the metaphorical darkness, the kind that drips from the prose and paints black streaks across one’s imagination. It’s the darkness beneath the surface, inhabiting one’s heart, and like that space in your shoe, it can hide many, many, unexpected things. Such is this fic, where we tag along with Daring Do as she confronts the mean streets of Manehatten and their many, many, shadows.
Daring as presented here is a far cry from her usual upright, adventurous self. She’s not squaring off against rival treasure-hunters or megalomaniacal collectors, here; in fact, she’s pretty much a crook in her own right. Yes, this pilferer of precious prehistoric pony paraphernalia performs potentially peccant procedures pursuant her pursuit of prestige, prosperity, and personal pay. Perhaps it’s just me, but this characterization is one of the more interesting I’ve read.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Indiana Jones with a passion far too debaucherous to be described here, but this fic’s interpretation of Daring compels attention simply by how very different it is. Right from the very first two words, it tells you that this is not a story about gallant archeology. This one’s all about the side we don’t usually see: the part where Daring makes her money. A mare has to eat, after all, and given her particular skill set, economics dictates a certain occupation.
And of course, shady dealings require a shady setting. As the title suggests, and as I’ve driven into you throughout this review, there is a lot of darkness in this fic. Take note here, readers—if you’re going dark, you still have to make it compelling to the reader. This fic accomplishes this by interspersing bits of Daring’s history throughout, using the various sensory cues as jumping off points for exposition. This creates an atmosphere that feels, in a word, complete.
The atmosphere of this fic is so pervasive, in fact, that its surprises, when they arrive, are nigh-impossible to expect. I won’t dare spoil anything, but suffice it to say, this is one walk home that is equal parts engaging, tense, and entertaining. So, who’s up for a stroll?
True story: as I walk back from uni (I live down the street 10 minutes away), I always pass by a roundabout. Going forward takes me home. Going right takes me to my brother’s. When I decided to pay him a visit, I notice a group of five or six children-teens on bikes dipping up and down driveways of houses. Cue five minutes later where said teens steal a phone from a young lady through the open window of her car. You heard that right. And all of this happened at 5 in the evening.
Today’s second feature is whimsical in that it pairs Daring Do, the most daring of doos, associated with danger and doom - that [Adventure] tag is almost always there - with the common man’s very real fear of risk in a dark alley in a shady area. Right from the get-go the story starts off strong, running with a adventure-weary, grittier, morally gray-er version of Pony Indiana Jones that is both refreshing and fascinating. Her recollections of past heists are toned with cynicism and mildly schadenfraude-y humour, and this ramps up as she takes her titular journey. There’s only more of that retrospective goodness as her chilling fear, so relatable to anyone who’s walked around alone at night with any amount of value on their being, grows and grows, finally culminating in -
- a tumblr reference.
Okay, it wasn’t as bad as discovering that you’re actually a zombie who is forced to kill witches of whose ranks you will join should you fail to sustain the power you use to kill said witches or simply expire because you ran out of time hnngg reading a throwaway gag. Though to call it that is severely underselling it, too. Because what this story achieves, consarn it, is atmosphere and a powerful experience that sucks you in from the get-go. While it suffers as a story for its ending, its strength as an experience is top notch.
So, Daring Do and the Dark Walk Home. I was the one to bring this up in chat as a probable fic this time ‘round, and I did so for two reasons. One, I’d been searching for a fic for the past hour, and really wanted something to bring in.
My actual face upon finding this.
Secondly, Daring Do is awesome, and so is this story.
Now, I don’t mean awesome in the Michael Bay sense—you won’t find many explosions, gunshot wounds, or cheesy monologues here. What you will find, however, is a remarkable re-interpretation of a character that most of the fandom thinks it has pinned down to a T—namely, Daring Do, Miss Adventure herself.
Don’t ask what the rope is hanging from.
It’s true that we’ve become used to the idea of Daring as an Indiana Jones analogue: She swoops in, saves the day, and gets the girl—er, ancient artifact. It’s not a hard leap to make, especially considering the fact that Daring Do and the Sapphire Statue resembles Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom much more than it does, say, Crime and Punishment. There’s action, there’s an overblown villain, and there’s temple raidin’ aplenty. What more could an action-adventure fan ask for?
More explosions?
Well, as Mindblower—author of Daring Do and the Dark Walk Home—shows us, there’s a whole new character beyond this idea of the generic adventurer that we’ve yet to discover. The popular image of Daring is that of the heroic archeologist, yet Mindblower paints a different—and in some ways, a more believable—picture. Here, Daring Do is no public-minded do-gooder; she’s a thief, a cat burglar, with more than enough skills to make it through her numerous escapades.
People have criticized good ol’ Indy in the past for being so reckless with the artifacts he uncovers. They might be a bit more incensed at Daring Do, however—rather than giving the priceless treasures she finds to a museum, she sells them on the black market to bring in enough dough to keep her in the black for another day. For this version of Daring, at the end of the day, the most important thing to keep in mind is how much cash she’s got stuffed into her saddlebags, and it’s her latest haul of moolah that brings the bulk of the tension to the titular dark walk home.
Daring’s voice is excellently dark: noir, but without being cliched; paranoid, but without getting on the reader’s nerves. For a pony so apparently amoral, Daring’s ruminations on the demises of her multiple companions, or “cohorts” as she calls them, are remarkably amusing to read through. It may be horrifying to imagine dying a slow death at the hands of bloodthirsty natives as your “trusted mentor” flees the scene, her saddlebags clinking with the treasure you found, but it’s a refreshingly organic look at what the life and mindset may be of a pony who’s devoted her life toward digging through old tombs and temples before robbing them of their ancient riches.
If I had one gripe, it would be that the end of the story—the ultimate “twist”—is at once both inconclusive and more than a bit confusing for a reader already invested in this fic. It’s unfortunate that Daring Do and the Long Walk Home finishes on what I can only call “an unbearably fanfic-like note,” but the rest of the story holds up quite well on its own. Mindblower’s narrative is both captivating and evocative, and Daring’s story comes through, surprisingly enough, without seeming too much like mindless exposition.
Should you ever find yourself in a dark alley, then, with alley toughs on your tail and saddlebags of dirty cash on your back, consider picking up Daring Do and the Long Walk Home for a quick read. It may not help you with your plight, but you’ll certainly feel less alone for reading it.
STORY 3
Refrain, by TSTS
THE PATHOS IS STRONG IN THIS ONE!
Candor dictates that I warn you, dear readers: you’re going to want to make yourself a stiff, sweet drink for this one, because it is, to use a certain colloquialism, a “doozy.”
A lot of stories with the “Sad” tag tend for the cheap thrills, the kind you get from simply describing one of the Mane Six coming down with cancer or having Derpy being ridiculed for her eyes or some such. Stories like this, however, are rare and with good reason. The kind of all-consuming depression demonstrated here isn’t something you take on a regular basis.
Calling stories out on their tags is kind of a running gag with me, but here I think it’s entirely warranted. This fic is very much deserving of the “Dark” tag in addition to the two it does have. After all, when the subject matter runs the gamut from parental abuse to abandonment to despair and death, “Dark” is kind of implied.
And what could possibly be going on for all of that to be wrapped up in this fic? Why, this is Octavia’s childhood, of course! Presented more or less as her memoirs, we experience her heartbreaking upbringing as she deals with poverty, neglect, and a parade of trauma delivered at a break-neck tempo. The fact that it’s all in first-person only serves to aid in making the tragedy hit closer to home.
Featuring a very strong narrative voice, this fic reads very much like one would expect Octavia’s memoirs to be written: erudite and precise. Interwoven with the narrative are many musical nods and cues—a lot of the discussions that take place are genuinely fascinating, and yet they’re still down to earth enough that the average reader won’t be overwhelmed. It helps that we join Octavia in her earliest lessons, and thus, learn along with her.
Getting to see our musical miss as a filly is at times both adorable and distressing. After all, young’uns are inherently at the mercy of their parents, and Octavia could hardly ask for a worse captor than her mother. Certain words exist that would adequately describe this character, but I like to maintain some semblance of civility, and thus will not commit them here. In their stead, I will simply say that she is a wonderfully-written witch, whose personality is so deeply flawed it invites reprehension as well as pity. As a personification for everything wrong in poor Octavia’s life, she serves as a great focal point for the catharsis to come.
“Catharsis” is the key word with this fic. It is expertly constructed, hitting all the right notes as it builds up into—not quite a crescendo—but a movement so full of pathos that it nonetheless feels as though a storm has passed. This is what makes the fic so effective. Quoth one of Christopher Nolan’s socks, while writing the screenplay to Inception: “The stronger the issues, the more powerful the catharsis.” The fic doesn’t need any bombast; it succeeds in sparking an emotional response through the power of its narrative alone.
Great reads like this are, as I’ve said, rare for a reason. They let you appreciate their strengths and revel in them. It may be a long, long trip down into the depths of this cavern, but once you come out the other side, the light is all the brighter, the air all the sweeter. Like the last echoing notes of a beautiful concerto, this is one fic that will stick with you for a long, long while.
As I type this out, I feel almost filthy for trying to find an image to use for this review. This last entry is, put short, an excellent piece of craft that puts to shame all the hackneyed attempts at inducing feels just by showing that sumponi’s ded. sumponis ded, wahh, showing such deliberation and care for the construction and portrayal of the pain of perfectionism, failed expectations, parenthood and broken childhood...
Let’s start with the obvious: the story is serious. You won’t find flippancy here; the tone and perspective of an Octavia born out of the circumstances she has simply don’t allow for it. Its chosen themes, handled poorly, would come off as immature and trite, but the steady pacing NTSTS exercises in building up both Octavia and mother grants both characters the standing they need to make it work. There is no hand-waving. There is no sudden happy ending. Consequences of actions are a subtle but strong factor in the progression of the story, which gives it not only depth but vividity.
The scenes display, in Octavia’s own sullen, gray-toned voice, her life as she struggles to find her identity amongst loneliness and the overbearing interference of her mother. Never has the concept of projection lent so much power to the story; at the end of it, we leave knowing her mother as much as we do Octavia, with decidedly living conclusions on both characters. The strength of the writing is in how nothing is ever told but shown, which gives the reader time to engage and think at one’s own pace. With a careful touch and skill in dialogue crafting, the author creates the expanse of experience you see before you, so rich that you can almost hear Octavia’s own voice in the final sentence.
I find that the more excellent the story, the harder it is for me to describe it without resorting to criteria. Bullet points are easy, and there’s no shortage of passages which tick the boxes. But merely criteria, much like notes on a page, fail to express the span of emotion and thought this story provokes. Musician or no, the message in this piece is strong and ready for anyone looking for a good read. It’s recommended that you be ready to set aside half an hour for it, preferably with a mug of something hot and sweet for when you reach the end.
If any of you have ever taken part in a Writeoff, you’ll know what I mean when I say that they’re as hard as hell to get through. You’ve got a limited amount of time to write what you need to write, and it’s a race against the clock to come up with an idea, form it into something coherent, and then write the damn thing. That’s not even taking into account the editing process, which for many participants is mostly a luxury.
Believe me when I say, then, that NTSTS, writer of Refrain, is no less than a fanfiction savant for his work in the Ponychan Writeoff “Time and Time Again.” Coming in second place to Duncan R—also an excellent author—his piece, Erase and Rewind, NTSTS found the strength within himself to outline, plan, and execute what turned out to be a twenty-five thousand word biography of Octavia’s life. And what an execution it turned out to be.
Refrain is a piece so reminiscent of biographical nonfiction that I looked over my shoulder at least once to see if my AP Language & Composition teacher was standing right behind me. Octavia’s past is both haunting and emotive: From the overbearing mother who rules her daughter’s life with an iron hoof, to Octavia’s final revelation beneath the lights of the Canterlot stage, NTSTS delivers a story whose themes wouldn’t seem out of place in a piece by Steinbeck or Baker.
The reader of such a fic soon realizes that they’re in for a ride: Although action is certainly no focus of this piece—barring one terrifying scene with a much darker subtext—Octavia’s narration of her life holds a gripping tension, both in the simple prose she uses and the song she creates with every word.
For Refrain is, at its heart, a story about a song. Every life, it seems to say, has its music—its assemblage of notes and dynamics that combine to form a concerto not unlike those in a Canterlot music hall. Octavia is forced to confront this truth near the end of the fic, when a jealous competitor calls her playing “the most emotionless piece of music I’ve ever heard.” Though any other pony might have waved this off as a mere symptom of envy, Octavia is shaken to her core. Truly, can a musician call themselves such if they derive no enjoyment from their instrument? What, the story asks us, is the purpose of music?
For fame, Octavia’s mother would tell us. For skill. For remembrance. I’ve seen few characters better written than this mare; as the bass to Octavia’s treble, her mother lends an unpleasant air of reality to the entire fic. At its heart, this story is a war of generations: the mother, determined to live her unspent life through her offspring, and the daughter, who is just as determined to break free.
Yet we see precious little of this rebellious spirit in Octavia, save for the few times when it erupts in a flare of anger and desperation. It’s cathartic to hear her scream over her mother’s platitudes, but as time goes on, the reader is forced to realize that Octavia is fighting a losing war. It’s only at the end of the story, when her mother has been removed from the picture, that Octavia is given the chance to take her first baby steps as her own mare. It’s a chance to celebrate, yes, but it is also a time to mourn—not for the mother, but for Octavia’s lost childhood and uncertain future.
Octavia’s mother is a despicable creature, to be sure, but she straddles the line between disgusting and merely pitiable. The dissonance in her every action shines through this fic like the plunk of a mistuned key, and the oppression she brings into Octavia’s life is truly horrible. The tone for this story is set earlier on, I believe, when a friendly colt asks a filly Octavia if she’d like to play. Turned down by a foal for whom the idea of friendship is as alien as the inner workings of alicorn magic, he says simply, “You’re weird.” Children have a talent for the cruel, yet honest insights that adults seem to lack. For her part, Octavia turns into herself to avoid the world outside, defending the last shards of her soul from her mother’s overbearing spirit.
There is one pony, however, who can bring Octavia back to life—to give her something resembling companionship. Grace Note, her music teacher, is both lovable and funny, playing the Maria Rainer to her mother’s Captain von Trapp. I’ll honestly say that if there was one scene in this story that made me sincerely tear up, it was the moment when Octavia realized that she’d taken her final lesson with Grace Note. The bond between those two is one of the few pieces of sunlight that shine through an otherwise drab, grey world, and its disappearance yanks your heartstrings out and ties them into the shape a treble clef.
Refrain is at once both tragedy and romance; it is the tale of love lost and thrown away, yet it is also the the tale of Octavia’s self-discovery as she emerges, at last, from her mother’s shadow to find her true calling waiting for her outside. It is truly the closest thing to literary fiction that I’ve yet seen on this site—it’s an art piece in itself, singing quietly through its words and characters.
Almost, you might say, like a song.
: Well, that went pretty well.
: I’m just thankful that we made it out of this without causing any diplomatic inciden—
: What was that, sunny boy? Do I hear sedition in the ranks?
: You’re a loon.
: Aha! The truth, at last, right from the octopus’s mouth!
: The phrase is actually “horse’s mouth.”
: You don’t look like a horse to me!
: Wait, but—
: We should probably try to wrap this up.
: Screamin’ eagles, you’re right! We might be giving away classified state secrets at this very moment! This is war! There’s only one thing to do!
: Oh, god. He has a gun.
: Sock, what are you—
: It’s okay, boys. No sneaky French son-of-a-bitch will get the lowdown on me today!
: Wait, that’s the cam—
Cut to static.
: —era.
Congrats on the first review, Golden!
>Invade Canada again
I swear, I will find all of you angels and destroy you one-by-one, especially the moderator that posted this blog
Or I can just gather Canada's 5 soldiers and burn down your white house again
(Nice one on reviewing Refrain)
Either this review round is very early or it's the first time in months that a review round has actually been on time. I assume the latter.
When I heard listen up maggots I thought of Popo
No one made any "Background Pony" references in the Refrain review?
1496496 Sorry, all 5 of a soldiers are on vacation, but the mounties are free.
You guys missed an N.
As ever, a pleasant – if supremely unorthodox – posting. Keep up the good work guys.
Sock is now Jane Doe. Confirmed
teamfortress.com/images/posts/poster_1st.jpg
Am I missing something with the sudden upsurge of people having the same site avatar as Golden Vision?
Congrats to him, BTW, on his first group-styled review thing
1496496
i know this was all you
why did you do this
No, I don't remember Sun Tzu writing a book about punching a man through his ribcage!
I'll tell you what I'm going to do! Stop making threatening phone calls to the bookstore!
1497212
Lies. Stop telling lies, you lying liar.
Wanderer, I worry that there is something incredibly wrong with you.
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lol, who is TSTS :V
1497025 I secretly did this so that I'd have another excuse to burn down the white house
Pay attention to your news closely for the next little while
Whoaaaaa one of my stories made it in here?!
stream1.gifsoup.com/view4/3161154/fluttershy-squee-o.gif
Thank you guys so much!!
What a pleasant surprise.
As to my choice of ending, though I am keenly aware it could come off as unsatisfactory, I have the nasty habit of not actually ending my stories, and instead having them go off to become novels and sagas and so on and so forth that I couldn't possibly find the time to complete. I figured it was better to end it on a more conclusive note than 'to be continued.' My characterization of Daring Do would have easily lent to the establishment of a much darker and more dire force than Scootaloo hounding her—in the interest of my other works, I decided not to allow myself to expand upon it. Just as Daring Do must eat, I, too, must sleep, and I am honestly sorry I didn't think of a cleverer conclusion.
Your review was fair, and I appreciate you going out of your respective ways to provide me feedback.
1497212
Fair enough. I suppose it makes sense for the review rounds to be the only thing Seattle's Angels does that should be taken seriously. Though after last week's podcast, I almost found that hard to believe. Seriously, the faff levels were through the roof in that livestream.
Novespurr... Although I am looking for an avatar of my own (and after 18 months, it's about fucking time), I think I'll pass on this one.
I read one, and ate tiramisu. Liked the dessert better.
1497342
Wat
It's technically an entire conversation he had with himself :L
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1497957
pls stahp
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1497976
D: I'm sorry, pls stah I didn't mean it
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1498018
I agree with Thorax; this is getting old.
1498018
Nooo now it's doubly bad, pls I so srry
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1498238
The meth is strong with Sock.
jaysolomon.files.wordpress.com/2008/11/sense.jpg
Is there a list somewhere of what stories were reviewed already?
Might be interesting.
1505126
You can find them all in the Seattle's Angels group. They're all organized by category (Sad, Dark, Comedy, etc.) in the group folders. Alternatively, if you want to look them up by what round they were featured in (and take a look at their reviews), the group also has a forum thread that occasionally gets updated.
1505276
Thank you kindly.
lol dat ending dat ending
. . .
I just realized Sock turned into the TF2 Soldier.