Story Reviews » Reviews! Round 52 · 1:14am Sep 21st, 2014
Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.
Casca walked up the steps to the front door of Seattle’s Angels Metalworks and found, to no surprise, that his day was going to be interesting. He had pulled his keys from his pocket, but stopped at seeing the door ajar. Within he could hear the zap and sizzle of the welding tool. He entered, cautiously.
The lights of the main garage hung dark, the room aglow with what filtered in through the dust-covered windows. Casca’s boots thudded loud in the emptiness, a drumming rhythm to the song of the welding torch. The noise grew as he approached the back garage where they housed the spare parts. He turned the corner around the office, and he had to shield his eyes from the light.
A figure—a man—crouched at the foot of a large, metal construct, the likes of which Casca had never seen before. He stepped closer, and the man must have heard his footsteps between welds. The man looked over his shoulder, and the soot-covered face shield sent chills up Casca’s spine.
“Oh, hey!” the man said. Though muffled, Casca recognized the voice: Corejo. He lifted the face shield and gave Casca a cheery smile. “You’re here early.”
“So are you,” Casca replied. He couldn’t help but glance at the bright-pink apron Corejo wore as he stood. Real Men Wear Pink it said in bold, darker-pink letters.
Corejo noticed him staring at it and laughed. “You like it? Pav thought I looked stupid, but we know he’s just jealous.”
Casca held his tongue for a moment, thinking what to say. He desired something along the lines of ‘Real men do, so take it off,’ but settled on a neutral response. No need to stir the pot this early in the morning. “At least I don’t have to kiss you for whatever you’re cooking up.” He nodded at the construct. “What is it, anyway?”
“Ho ho!” A light twinkled in Corejo’s eye, and he had the giddiest smile about him. he shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe Casca could be so thick. “I’ve been thinkin’ about this for a few weeks now.” He pointed at the far wall, where a few car doors, bumpers, and hoods lay in a much smaller pile than Casca had remembered. “Figured it all out.”
“What, exactly?” Casca looked up at the monstrosity before him. The metalwork, an amalgam of mismatched and miscolored car parts, stood nearly to the roof, turned so that it would fit between the rafters. If he wasn’t mistaken, it looked like a giant zero.
“It’s for the next review round!” Corejo said, throwing his hands in the air. “I told you: we’re gonna blow em out of the water! The best review rock concert this side of anywhere! I made it just for us, to shove it in alex’s face!” He made aggressive punching motions into an open palm.
“Okay, but that still doesn’t answer my question…”
Corejo sighed. He stared Casca in the eye, hurt. “You’re just no fun, are you?”
“I’m here to work.”
“When you’re here at all.” Corejo laughed at his own joke, shaking his head. “Whatever. I gotta finish this up for now—” he flipped his face shield back down and turned back toward the zero “—make sure it’s all good. Other one’s over there.” He pointed over his shoulder at the back wall of the office, where another monstrosity of metal stood squeezed between the rafters.
“Is… that a five?” Casca asked.
“Yeah!” Corejo shouted over the hiss of the torch. “You get it!? A five and a zero! For round fifty!” He spared a glance over his shoulder, no doubt beaming like a kid in a candyshop. “I can’t believe we were lucky enough to get this milestone! It’s so awesome!”
Casca laughed. Thankfully the welding torch drowned him out. He started for the office. “Your reviews in here?”
“Yeah!” Corejo shouted over the sparks flying about him. “On the desk!”
A smile turned up the corners of Casca’s mouth as he undid the lock on the office door. He grabbed Corejo’s manilla folder off the desk and left with but a wave of his hand. A single word would have brought him to his knees laughing.
Casca stepped out the front door of the Metalworks. Today would be a good day. He could see the trainwreck from a mile away, and as he stepped up to his car, keys in hand, he only wished he had brought a bag of popcorn.
ROUND 52
She cries in her sleep.
Her nightmares are music to my ears.
Style prevails. Substance be damned.
That right there is an almost perfect sentiment. For those of you that weren’t following the Outside Insight Contest over on EqD (I wasn’t 
), this is one of the multitudes of entries. I have to say, I wish I had come up with something for this contest, but clearly I would have been far outclassed by stories such as this.
For the First Snow doesn’t have much to it, breaking the scales at a whopping 1.4k. But given a glance, it’s clear this is due to the style It really is all about the style Velkan Nobody used to portray his Outsider’s perspective. The descriptions his character gives to the environment, the succinctness of the narration itself, and how the narrator relishes the nightmare mesh together so well.
If there’s anything to be said about this story, it’s how well it gets into your head. The simplicity of it all (again, style prevails) sinks its teeth in and won’t let go. My only gripe is how short it is. That 1.4k, as wonderful as it was, wasn’t enough time for the mood to settle in. It certainly showed up, but was gone just as quick. And that left me rather disappointed.
For anyone looking for a good mood piece, you won’t find much better. Those curious how good narration works will also find this informative. Read this story. Seriously.
Fellow style fans, rejoice, for this round we’ve got tons of the stuff for you. Kicking it off is - what else? - a first-person present-tense piece that charms, works and constructs in your mind.
A notable decision the author has made is “weakening” the first-person aspect by presenting a lot of perspective-neutral scenery. If you, like me, are put off by paragraphs that look like forests with all the pointy “I”s, you don’t have to worry about it in this one. For the few sentences it plays with, it manages to exercise a surprising range of word and length aesthetics. Each carries it own weight; some carry even more than that, and reading on gives you that wonderful feeling - of an unravelling understanding of the situation as the scene you see only grows, morphs, solidifies.
Aside from the great handling of words, the voice is interesting. There’s something unique about it, and rightly so given the nature of the speaker (no spoilers) - I reckon it’s the shifting, almost agitated focus at the start of the story, yet not unstable enough to utterly wreck the frame it inhabits.
If you’re looking for a quick but quality read, give this a shot.
Time alone can't heal all wounds for Carrot Top. Sometimes life simply goes on in the worst and best possible ways.
Another mood piece to keep the theme going.
If alexmagnet were to have told me I was going to read a Carrot Top/Derpy/Ditzy story in a review round, I would have punched him in the face. Pav Feira, too. But that’s just because it’s Pav. Anyone else, I’d have given a stern lecture on how I pretty much loathe this character pairing.
That would have included Bachiavellian, had I not given this story the chance. (You can thank Casca for forcing me.) Like For the First Snow, the style is what made this story interesting. Bachiavellian has a way of describing emotions that neither impede nor pander, which is a lot given the story he has to tell here.
Normally, I’d douse my computer in gasoline and find the nearest flamethrower when I accidentally open stories about mourning and homeless ponies, but unlike the more common stories, this one doesn’t harp on it. Yes, it is the main conflict, but it’s how the characters work around it, rather than wallow in it. Forward is the only direction this story goes, and that’s how I like them.
I won’t go as far as to say it’s a gripe, but my main concern with the story is that it feels a little too unfinished. One of the conflicts is wrapped up nicely (and is the stronger of the two, really), but the other is left hanging. I’m happy that the story itself didn’t harp on this fact and chose to rather focus on the upside of the completed arc (forward progression and all), but the other could have done with some more love.
Who knows. Maybe Bachiavellian has a sequel stewing in that brain of his. I’d definitely read it.
I, in turn, have [url=http://www.fimfiction.net/blog/375492/interview-bachiavellians-shoots-and-rootsour good friends at the RCL to thank for this one. Congratulations for completing the set, Bachiavellian but damn your weird mm/dd/yr format when dd/mm/yr is far more superior, grumble, grouse.
This one packs a serious punch. Where For the First Snow was light, almost dreamlike, this one’s got all the makings of an engrossing drama - a delicious, tangible tone, emotions realized so vividly, contrast balanced around the conflict that gives the driving force of the story a very balanced, mature shade.
Off the bat, we are given the crux - Carrot Top, who once had an amazing relationship, no longer has it. This is a good showcase of why “showing” is infinitely more engaging than “telling” for some cases:
...She hugs him from behind like she always did, with her right foreleg through the sharp turn of his back. His face turns up with that big silly grin plastered all over it. Then they're downstairs in the living room, dancing a slow, warm dance around the green couch. She laughs because he's singing; he has such a wonderful singing voice and he's singing some nonsensically romantic song about her—her! Carrot Top awkwardly tries to follow along. She blushes and again wonders why she hasn’t inherited any of her mother’s beautiful singing voice...
The strength of the author’s language is in how evocative it is, not just for the happy scenes, but also for the intense ones, even the dreary ones - it flows and ebbs as naturally as the tides, enhancing, following its characters and its scene. Any more and I’d accuse him of showing off, but this stops just short of flamboyant, landing squarely in the region of bloody skilled.
The story goes on to explore what it’s like to lose something - anyone who’s been through a breakup will know that it’s the day-to-day that really gets to you. Small steps, small windows in which things happen between other things. Though it’s hidden behind subtlety, Carrot Top makes a momentous decision by the end of it, which gives some good closure to wrap it all up.
Also German griffons. I rather liked that. The blunt bruteness of German and its accent somehow fit that particular scene perfectly, though at this point I’m probably just entranced.
You’re missing out if you don’t give this a look. I’d actually put this as one of the stories I enjoyed the most reading for Seattle’s Angels, and some day, I’m going to re-read it, but much slower, and immerse.
Fiddlesticks walks the dead earth of the Badlands, and plays her song to the listening shadows.
THERE AIN’T NO BREAKS ON THIS MOOD TRAIN!
Yet another stylistic piece here for you today. Another short one, too. (Are you seeing a sub-theme here?) If the synopsis wasn’t apparent enough, this one is about Fiddlesticks, the fiddle player from that awesome fiddle solo in the Raise This Barn song, walking through the Badlands.
It has a rather lofty tone to it (almost oral tradition-y), a little more than I thought was needed, but well executed nonetheless. The tone itself brings with it a length of wording that in any other form would have been unnecessary, but here it settles in beautifully.
There’s a love story somewhere in there, which plays well off the narrative tone. It’s rather sweet, to be honest. It gives the story a rather bleak mood, but not a hopeless one, reminiscent of Here Come the Rain Again, another story by A Hoof-full of Dust that I had the pleasure of reviewing in the past. If you enjoyed that story, then this one will definitely tickle your fancy. If you didn’t for whatever reason, it’s apparent Dust’s writing abilities have improved, which should always be reason enough to crack open a new tab.
As a bonus, A Hoof-ful of Dust mentions something worthwhile in the author’s note that brought a smile to my face. You should read that, too. Go edumacate yourself.
I was a little disappointed that this was a different Fiddlesticks than the one I’m used to.
Pictured: mystery gift attempt 3 for the girlfriend. She mains him, so I really got lucky there.
Even so, this piece has some strong atmosphere going for it. The opening is a little dry, though given that it portrays a desert, this could very well work in tandem - some good descriptions fix the scene. Gems of lines bloom vividly like cactus flowers in the Sahara:
...In the day her shadow stood tall and never faltered; now it danced and capered, for it was no longer truly hers. It wanted to run out into the night, become one with all that blackness, and disappear from being as the sun rose...
...We do not go there, ponies say. We go so far and no further. What lies beyond it? None have returned to speak of the things they have seen...
Thinking about it, I’d put a YMMV tag on this. On the one hand, this is indulgent - anybody with fresh memories of the kind of situation Fiddlesticks is in will resonate strongly with it. The heart of this story is very true, tapping into two powerful concepts - wanderlust and loss - and bringing out richness from them that appeals to the reader as much as it does to the story’s own main character.
On the other hand, Fiddlesticks’ actions felt a bit off to me, when lined up with the conflict. Those of a more critical eye and blunter tongue will probably say that it’s pretty, but it doesn’t make much sense. But I’d argue against that, because irrationality is part of the process, and part of being emotional - flames flicker and flare up and twist with the smallest change in the air.
All in all, beautiful writing and raw emotion bring a fresh take on a slightly flimsy follow-through of a classic premise. Check it out if that sounds like your thing.
Pinkie Pie's 'cousin Horsey' comes to visit, but Twilight Sparkle is suspicious. Sometimes we wear masks to hide our true feelings... sometimes that can be taken literally.
C-C-C-COMBO BREAKER!
Just when you thought you were going to get another feelsy, stylistic story to wrap up this review round with a neat little bow. Well isn’t that cute…
Well, not really. The gist of this story is that Pinkie Pie shows up in a disturbing get-up (see: cover picture) and asks all her friends what they think about her under the alias Horsey. Party of One, concerns at the forefront, Twilight & Co.™ do their best to cheer up her up. There are some moments sprinkled throughout the story where the feels do feel genuine, but the bulk of the story centers around the Five’s reactions to such an absurd costume.
Whew! On the fourth story and finally I can give a short synopsis without spoilers. Anyways, what I like about this story is how the situation(s) are handled. The awkwardness is played for laughs, and it mixes with the other emotions present, keeping any one of them from dominating a given scene. The wording comes across strongly enough, and each character shines through in the narrative; I would have had no problem picking each of them out if we weren’t given a heads up at the beginning of each scene.
But about those, the shortness of each scene hit me as the major flaw of the story. While I understand there isn’t much that could have been done to add substance without fluffing, they felt too short overall. I will say, though, that zaponator has an eye for blunt comedy. You’ll see what I mean.
You’d expect this to be pretty emo, what with the title sounding like a bad attempt at a poem, but this one actually got me to laugh.
You’d expect this round to not have a picture of Best Character Ever, but no buts. Just look at that smile.
So, here’s the lowdown: the story explores good ol’ Mane 6 relations, playing off the idea that Pinkie Pie seems to be suffering from a bout of self-doubt, and she’s now going around asking her friends what they think of her - all the while dressed in a horse mask. That’s the broad strokes. What makes the story satisfying is the little things, the side antics, the running gag of how truly horrifying that mask is - it’s not afraid to take a dig at a couple of less-worn tropes, plays up some silliness and balances it out with some real talk, and a proper good ending to round it up.
I mean, it’s quite hard to convey how funny this was without spilling the jokes, but this got a few chuckles out of me. The humour is never low-brow, with a few very clever moments, and it never misses a beat - guess you’ll just have to horsee for yourself if you find it as good as I did.
It was awfully quiet on the lawn. The crowds had turned out en masse for the week’s Seattle Rock concert, and their cheers when Corejo struck the first chord had nearly brought down the stage. But after the rope was pulled and the canvas fell away, with it went the noise of the crowd.
Sparklers blasted from slots on the face of the massive five-oh behind him to the strike of another chord, but the crowd responded with silence. Casca sat in a lawn chair on a hillock overlooking the whole of the event, enjoying himself a cold glass of lemonade and wondering just how long it would take Corejo to realize.
Head bent low, concealed behind a curtain of flowing, unkempt hair, Corejo slowly rose from his sweeping power stroke. He felt the energy coursing through him, the raw ferociousness of the reviewer awaken within. Casca might not have showed up to play drums, but it didn’t matter. A lone guitar held all the power he needed—the alpha wolf on the hunt.
His black denim vest clutched about him as he breathed in the energy around him, and his clasped leather boots sounded loud his steps toward a microphone at the front of the stage. He surveyed the crowd from right to left, high on the thrill of the review. They looked on in silence—mere awe. This would be a good show, indeed. He took the microphone in one hand and raised a fist to the sky.
“ARE YOU READY TO READ!?”
The crowd remained as still as a graveyard. An uncomfortable cough somewhere out in the middle. Someone threw a book at him.
Corejo blinked away the surprise, and the whole of his act fell to pieces before his eyes.
“This isn’t round fifty!” someone said.
“Can you even count!?” said another.
Their shouts surged over the fading hiss of the sparklers, and the crowd began to disperse. All Corejo could do was stand there like a lost puppy, wondering just where everything had gone so wrong. In his stupor, he spotted Casca walking against the flow, a rather large smile on his face.
Casca pushed his way through the angry crowd and onto the stage. He didn’t say a word as Corejo gave him the same mournful look he had that morning. Something about how he had it coming and that he should have double checked the round number came to mind, but he could already tell the message had hit home.
Casca patted him on the back and walked away, a smile on his face. That was fun to watch. Today hadn’t been so bad, after all. In fact, he wished there would be more like it. It might spice up this thing he calls a job a bit. Either way, he couldn’t wait to tell the rest of the gang.
Implying that mere fists could mar this perfection.
I really didn't like For the First Snow. I was apparently put off by the "density" of the prose and found it hard to follow.
I'm glad you guys brought my attention to A Rubber Mask of Emotions, though. I don't follow everyone who participates in the writeoffs, so I often miss entries getting published!
Now that you have all this excess scrap metal around, why not make superhero suits to take on the next review?
I'm not going to say anything. I am not going to say anything.
Also, if it wasn't for zaponator's story, this review round would've been all [Sad] fics. You were this close to making Round 52 depressing. You disappoint me.
Go to check if a story I recommended shows up here.
See one I wrote instead.
Huh.
2471424
Funny how that happens
2471424
2471922
Very funny indeed.
2471374
Please, do say something.
2472432
Pretty sure I just did."Something."Do youreallywant me nitpicking over the review round count? Again? That shit's old, like Csquared being the new guy or Pav spelling his name wrong or... something about asparagus.... I got nothing.No. Just no.
2472540
Okay.
2471374
RIP in pepperonis
shit's fucking confusing. I like writing, but technobabblemajiggershittyroflbbq stuff like this just turns me off. I'm going back to the part of fimfiction where my brain doesn't hurt.
(apologies. plz don't ban for stating my opinion.)
2476009
How do you eat an elephant?
One bite at a time.
2472752
Yay!
Wait a minute, I don't eat pepperoni.
Also, isn't this normally the part where one of you adds this round's stories to the group folders? And also last round's. And then add the last three rounds' stories to the joint account's favorites? And update the archive thread?
2472585
I forgot to say "
Banana hammock!"2478329
Banana hammock is love. Banana hammock is life.
2478387
Actually no. Thomas is love. Thomas is life.
Banana hammock is just a reminder of how much we miss Zach Braff.
2478329
I have no idea what you're talking about.