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  • Tuesday
    SA Reviews #122

    Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.

    Paul paced about the thing laughably referred to as his office. He could get about four steps down before having to make a turn, and that’s assuming his line of motion was just right. He glanced at his clock, grumbled some phrase unfit for the world wide web, and continued his pacing.

    “Hey, Paul!” The door swung open. Since this was the smallest office in the history of offices, that resulted in the door smacking Paul in the face. With a hand over his bleeding nose, he turned his glare upon the visitor, one Novel-Idea.

    “You were supposed to be here hours ago.” Except it came out something like “Ou er spsed here hrgo” due to the current state of his nose.

    Novel shrugged. “Blame T.O.M. We gonna do those reviews or what?”

    Paul stared incredulously. “Ou evn’t dn urrs?”

    “Not yet, nope.”

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    6 comments · 1,215 views
  • 3 weeks
    SA Reviews #121

    Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.

    The room was lit by faint orange candlelight, barely enough to see by, but the sole occupant didn’t mind. In fact, he prefered the dim glow as it added to the mystique and allure of his persona. Words and phrases came to him more easily in this atmosphere, not to mention that it had a soothing effect on his mind. Everything in place, Ebon Quill raised the quill that was his namesake and dipped it into an inkwell. He held the quill to a piece of parchment, hands poised to write the first word.

    The door to his room burst open and a bright light flicked on.

    “Ack!” Ebon Quill’s first word became a jagged line across the paper. Fuming, he scrunched up the ruined parchment into a wad and tossed it into a nearby waste bin.

    “Jeez, man, how do you even see?” Intern asked as he crossed the room where Ebon Quill sat.

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    8 comments · 2,018 views
  • 5 weeks
    SA Reviews #120

    Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.

    “So, uh, Paul?”

    “Yeah, Matthew?”

    “Why are you in my office?” Matthew shook his head. “Better yet, why are you hanging from the ceiling in my office?”

    “Oh, you know,” Paul started, “I don’t have anyone else to hang out with.”

    Matthew raised his right eyebrow. “Really?” he asked. “Puns?”

    “Not quite. There’s a method to my acting.”

    “Oh? Care to share?” Matthew asked.

    “Eh, not really,” Paul replied. “I’m putting these in at the perfect times. It’s all in the setupl, ya know?”


    “I was also sent by Ferret to wait for you to finish coming home. We got reviews to do.”

    Matthew sighed “Ugh, fine. What d’ya got?”

    ROUND 120

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    6 comments · 3,147 views
  • 7 weeks
    SA Reviews #119

    Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.

    “So it’s us two this time, huh?”


    “Amazing how much we can get done, even with our compound getting destroyed.”

    “Sure is.”

    “This is what, the third time?”

    “Dunno. Lost count.”

    “Think we’ll make it in time?”

    “It’s gonna be close, that’s for sure.”

    “How much further?”

    “Just a little more… there!”

    Corejo stepped back and admired his work. A giant bronze sculpture of Seattle stood tall against the sky as Intern nudged it into place with a swarm of remote controlled drones. The statue sat in place in front of the compound entrance, an opened book resting in the crook of its arm and a pen held high in the other.

    Dusting off his hands, even though he did none of the work, Corejo turned to Intern with a nod. “Great. Now that that’s done, back to the reviews.”

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    7 comments · 2,464 views
  • 8 weeks
    SA Reviews #118

    Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.

    “Hey, Matthew, watcha doin?” asked Chris, walking into their shared broom closet office.

    “Oh, not much. Just hiding from Fer… you know who.” Matthew shivered as he spoke.

    “What’d you do this time?” Chris asked.

    “I forgot to clean the bathroom.”

    “Ooh, Class five offense. Yikes.”

    Matthew nodded. “Anyway, what do you need from here?”

    “Me? Oh, I just got assigned to do reviews with you as punishment.”

    Matthew raised an eyebrow. “Your punishment or mine?”

    “Both,” Chris said, putting a stack of papers on the table. “I cut off Arch’s beard.”

    ROUND #118

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    14 comments · 2,526 views
  • 13 weeks
    SA Reviews #116

    Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.

    Sitting on a rock surrounded by debris, Intern typed away furiously on a laptop lying on his lap. Being so engrossed in his work, he failed to see a figure march up to him. The figure cleared his throat, but didn’t get a response. Next, the figure lightly tapped Intern on the shoulder but still didn’t get a reaction.

    The figure finally settled on slapping Intern on the back of his head.

    “Hey!” Intern squawked indignantly. “I’m trying to work here.” Looking up, he found a man he didn’t recognize staring impatiently down at him. The man was dressed in a finely pressed suit and carried a briefcase. “Can I help you?”

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    7 comments · 4,410 views
  • 15 weeks
    SA Reviews #115

    Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.

    Corejo stepped into Ferret’s office, hands clasping a manila folder behind his back.  “You wanted to see me?”

    Ferret sat at her desk beneath the light of a single overhead lamp.  She wore a see-through green visor and worked hell on a roller-print calculator.  The chu-chug of the calculator filled the air as it spit out what were probably forged tax return numbers.  Hard times were upon us now that the movie sucked away most of our reader base.

    She rolled her stogie from one side of her mouth to the other.  She didn’t bother looking up.  “Your reviews.  Don’t forget, I need them by tomorrow.”

    “You called me down here to remind me to do my reviews on time?”  Corejo smirked, taking slow, meaningful strides toward her desk.  He flopped a manila folder on her desk.

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    11 comments · 4,569 views
  • 17 weeks
    SA Reviews #114

    Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.

    Intern burst open a door, startling the Angels gathered inside sitting next to a poker table, and causing many to drop their cards.

    “Hey, I was about to win that hand!” Cynewulf yelled.

    Intern ignored her. He cast a quick glance over their confused and concerned faces, scowled, then slammed the door shut. He stomped towards the next door and threw it open much the same way he did the first. Long past the point of caring, Intern once again looked over everybody inside the room. At last, sitting towards the back in a darkened corner, he found his target.

    Waltzing in and brushing past anyone in his way, Intern loomed over the figure that was furiously scribbling away on a piece of paper.

    Intern reached over and flicked the on switch for the light.

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    4 comments · 3,299 views
  • 18 weeks
    SA Reviews #113

    Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.

    "What's that in your mouth?"

    "It's a pipe," said Cyne, and jabbed the briary thing at Archonix from her comfortable chair by the fire, that flickered low and dark, and smoked more than a thoughtful philosopher at three in the morning when the rain is scattering drops in careful patterns across dust-rimed windows.

    Archonix raised his eyebrows. "And it comes with all that prose for free, does it?"

    Cyne clomped her teeth around the pipe and glared at Archonix. "You smoke one as well, you donkey."

    "Only when I'm trying to write reviews," said Archonix. "And that's discrimination that is."

    Cyne didn't answer, preferring to stare into the fire and to think long thoughts, something entirely alien to Archonix on the best of days. They sighed in unison.

    ROUND 113

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    4 comments · 4,830 views
  • 21 weeks
    SA Reviews #112

    Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.

    The low-lying fog obscured the two ponies’ hooves as they tramped through the ancient graveyard. Luna’s moon hung in the early autumn air, burning a sickly yellow.

    “I hate graveyards, Ferret,” Intern said as he tightened his rucksack. He spluttered as he walked through a dangling cobweb.

    Ferret chuckled, and hopped over some brambles. “Watch where you step, you never know when—”

    There was a click underhoof, and a grasping griffon claw burst from the loam beneath the pair. Intern leapt back, cursing. Ferret laughed, and plucked the padded foam prop from its spring.

    “Why are we even here, Ferret? That new kid, Novel-whoever, is pretty good. This is a waste of our time.”

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    6 comments · 4,797 views

Story Reviews » SA Reviews #108 · 2:25am Jul 9th, 2017

Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.

Archonix strolled through the second floor hallway of the Seattle’s Angels Secret Underground Base and Treefort.  He licked his thumb as he leafed through a stack of papers, humming Winter Wrap Up in a most Scottish manner.  Without looking up from his work, he stopped and rapped his knuckles on Corejo’s bedroom door.

“Hey, Core, you in there?  We need your reviews.”  No answer.  Archonix looked up at the dozens of Luna pictures taped haphazardly to the door.  ‘No Celestias allowed!’ read a small poster board stuck in the middle in glued macaroni and glitter.  The light of a computer monitor escaped through the crack beneath the door.  “Core?”

Archonix put an ear to the door.  There was a heavy tip-tapping noise, what he imagined a dozen ballerina gorillas in steel-toed boots sounded like.  He turned the knob and peeked inside.

Corejo sat in the electric-blue glow of his computer screen, eyes manic as he loomed over the keyboard, mashing away at the keys.  He turned around, a trail of drool down to his chin.

“Arch!” he said, throwing his hands in the air.  “Perfect timing!  I need you to stop time for, like, two seconds!”  He swung around and continued punching his keyboard like it owed him money.

Archonix pursed his lips.  “You know, even if I could, I don’t think that would be a good idea.  We need to get our reviews out… I take it that’s what this is about?”

Corejo threw his hands in the air before resuming.  “There’s no time!  Must finish!  Before Ferret finds out!”

Archonix blinked.  Slowly, he stepped backwards out of Corejo’s room.  “I’ll come up with something, then.”

He turned for the far end of the hallway and continued leafing through his reviews.


The Morning Courts are one of Equestria's oldest and most hallowed traditions; beginning at Sun's rise upon the summer solstice. It is a celebration that would have once dwarfed the Galloping Gala; a week long fete that the princesses open, reaffirming to all of Equestria that their promise of safety and prosperity will never be forgotten. It is during this grand celebration that the plebeians and commons have a chance to petition the diarchs of Equestria. Everyone and everyone, from great to small.

What could go wrong?

The first surprising thing about this particular fic isn't that it's a human story without any humans, or that it is truly the tragic tale of an unsung genius plan to protect Equestria from the might of a fictional race, but instead that it has a wonderfully deep idea. So wonderfully deep, in fact, that it almost isn't visible.

This is a comedy, there is no doubt about it; a farce very much in the vein of Oscar Wilde. It uses that to explore chunks of Equestrian lore that are not typically expanded on in fanfic, or are expanded on so poorly that it might be better if the authors hadn't bothered. Celestia's court gets the royal treatment here, as do the secondary protagonists - Cadance, Shining Armor, Blueblood and Twilight Sparkle - each of whom has their own part to play on this particular stage.

If you're a fan of comedic dialogue and lots of snark, you'll be right at home with this one.

Gotta love reading an over-the-top silly fic every once in a while.

I think what I like most about this one is all the asides the main characters have among themselves, much the way they always whisper/talk to each other in the show while the someone they’re talking about stands a few feet away and somehow doesn’t pick up on anything.  It draws out the cartooniness of the piece, not to mention each pony playing up an extreme of their canon personality.

Also there’s humans.  But not really.  It all ties into the silliness of the piece and how it escalates to the peak of silliness and bad acting. ‘What could go wrong?’ indeed.

If you’re averse to fat jokes or stories lacking a solid editing pass you might want to pass it up, but otherwise, you’re in for a treat.

With a heavy heart and an empty journal, Rarity heads north.

From the start, this story is deceptive; a conniving little thing, tricking you into thinking it's about Rarity abandoning her life to find an old lover. Or that's how it felt to me at any rate.

It isn't, but at the same time it treads a similar path. We follow Rarity on a journey to the far north, through beautifully explored vistas and landscapes, the character of which tracks the increasingly desperate lengths to which Rarity forces herself as time goes by. I could rant for hours about that alone before even getting to the thickly realised characters, the conversations, the details, the way everything combines to animate and deepen Rarity's emotional and mental state as she moves closer to her final destination.

For hours I could go on, but I won't. This is a story that deserves to be read blind, or as blind as it can be I suppose.

A good story isn't measured by how long it is, but by how long it stays with you.

That’s always been my motto here on Fimfic.  You can see it on my profile if you bother looking.  It’s been there since the day we got the ability to write those little bio snippet things, and I haven’t wavered from that stance since.

That said, this story’s gonna stick with me for a while.

Sundowner Season has a slower start, but as the story unfolds, the drama of the piece really sets in.  How far are you willing to go for the mare you loved?  That thing you never really had, yet feels so much a part of you?  To get away from the ties that keep you in one place against your will?  This story asks many questions at different key points and to different extremes.

Many a time, I got lost in the descriptions—the locales, Rarity’s thoughts, the ponies around her.  This story is heavy in all the right ways, with a perfect pacing that never stumbles or pulls you along too quickly.  Rarity’s diary comes to mind here.

Diaries in stories like this usually become very ham-fisted plot devices or methods of exposition, but here that’s not the case.  Rarity’s mindset takes the helm throughout this rollercoaster of a story, and it’s all the better for it.  This story will move you.

It has been over seven hundred years since the banishment of Nightmare Moon. They say time heals all, but some wounds cut too deeply to ever heal the scar. Celestia is reminded of this every night.

Then she finds a book.

Despite the first entry, it's obvious by now that this is The Sad Edition.

I can't really say more than that. This was excellently written, with just enough evocative imagery to draw the reader to the end. A neat little expansion of Celestia's character in the time before Luna's return.

There’s something about reading the written word of another (nevermind the inception-ness of ‘reading a story about a story written by someone’) that gets me.  The ‘left behind’ and/or ‘from beyond the grave’ trope-y-ness of the format lends a sort of mystical aspect that I’ve always been fond of, and Sun’s Torment hits a few solid notes I didn’t expect.

There’s a lot of unspoken story told through atmosphere in this piece.  The derelict room, the somber stroll past the tightly shut door, a book safely hidden away from prying eyes.  It’s all a setup for a glimpse into Luna’s slow but inevitable transformation, as seen through diary entries.

It’s a simple yet poignant story that speaks volumes for what can be done with minimal wordcount.

Yesterday you were born.
Tomorrow, you will die.
When the river of life promises to sweep you away
All you have left is to live for today.

What's this? An immortality blues fic that isn't a constant angst by a pretty Princess about how hard it is to watch people die?

Instead it's a constant angst by Spike. Though no, that isn't remotely true or fair. This feels like the thoughts of a young mind coming to terms with the fact that life goes on, that things will change. That the past and the future and the present are each their own country, forever separated one from the other.

There's a pleasing cadence to this fic, which starts out slow and accelerates towards its end that is, in its own way, filled with a sort of hope for the now. Just like life, if you think about it.

Yesterday you were born.
Tomorrow, you will die.
When the river of life promises to sweep you away
All you have left is to live for today.

First, I have to point out that synopsis, because that’s an amazing synopsis.  Second, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Ruirik at both Bronycon and Everfree Northwest, and I have to say he looks like the kind of guy that would write this sort of slower, contemplative story we have here before us. (He’s also a pretty cool dude with a snazzy hat.)

But that aside, this is very much the kind of story you read after Most Noble, one that brings you back down to earth, if only for a little while, before you find that Next Best Thing.  I’ve said it many times before to various people that I don’t like these sorts of stories, but this one doesn’t quite fit into the category of ‘immortal angsts over their immortality.’

It’s not about living longer than everyone else and having to watch them die.  It’s about how time just keeps going and where Spike is in the midst of it all.  Time has passed.  Time will pass.

It’s a fresh twist on a tired premise, one that shows that, if your execution is impeccable, there’s always something new to say.

“But I was only a couple hours late!” Corejo said.

He sat tied to his computer chair with shoelaces.  His arms free from the elbow down, he waved his hands around in some futile attempt for freedom.

Ferret paced back and forth on his computer desk, paws clasped adorably together behind her back.  She stopped and faced him, one hand on her hip, the other stroking her chin in thought.  “You know what?  You’re right.  That’s a new record for you.  I’ll go easy on you this time.  Red!”

Red Squirrel scurried out from beneath Corejo’s bed and onto the computer desk.  He saluted Ferret with as much adorableness as possible.  “Here, ma’am!”

“Wait,” Corejo said.  He pointed a finger at him, restricted as his arm was.  “What were you doing under my bed?”

Red Squirrel flustered and pulled his paws up to his chest.  He curled his tail around himself, then tapped the tips of his paws together while looking around for something.  “Um, I was, uh… not planting a Sunset Shimmer self insert fanfiction hardcopy to use as evidence against you later?”

He smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

Corejo blinked.  “Oh, then what were you actually doi—”

“Silence, you fool!” Ferret held up a threatening paw as if crushing an invisible apple.  She stood upright, hands clasped behind her back, eyes closed.  She turned and strolled for the exit.  “Red, tickle him until I say stop.”

“Oh, boy!”  Red said.  “I haven’t bathed in weeks!”

“What?” Corejo said.  “What does that have to do with anything?”

It was then that the horror of the moment settled in as Red turned around and fluffed his tail.  Corejo could hardly rear back, teeth clenched, as the floofy death whip waggled in closer and closer to his nose.

The door shut, and the muffled screams faded as Ferret quietly descended the stairs.

Feel free to visit our group for more information and events, and to offer some recommendations for future rounds. See you all next time!

Report Wanderer D · 1,734 views ·
Comments ( 6 )
Kell #1 · Jul 9th, 2017 · · 18 ·

First :p

Kell #3 · Jul 10th, 2017 · · 3 ·

The look of despair only belonging to someone who wasn't first. How intoxicating:trollestia:

Wanderer D

4597633 Claiming "First" post is against the rules, so being cheeky about it is not doing yourself any favors.

I honestly was not aware of this. My apologies.

Holy stories Batman.

I'm stunned... Thank you! :twilightsmile:

And thank you for keeping up these recommendations!

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