Wanderer D 5,174 followers · 57 stories

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News Archive

  • 4 weeks
    SA: Round 181

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

    For the first time in the year that he worked there, FanficFan finally experienced quiet in the Seattle’s Angels Compound. All the other reviewers had gone home for the holidays, leaving him and Intern to submit the last round of reviews of the year. However, with Intern off on an errand, FanficFan was left alone.

    With stories ready to be read by his partner, all the reviewer could really do was wander around the empty building, taking in all the holiday decorations left behind from the Office Christmas Party a few days prior, like office space holiday knick-knacks, lights strown about the ceiling and wreaths on nearly every door. Plus, there was some leftover cookies and egg nog, so that was nice. 

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    7 comments · 2,582 views
  • 12 weeks
    SA: Round 179

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

    Winter peered cautiously out the corner of the broken window, surveying the damage outside. He turned to his companion.

    "Looks like we're trapped in here," he said quietly.

    Intern grunted and adjusted the bandage on his arm. "Nothing we haven't gone through before." He looked up at Winter. "Got your reviews?"

    Winter nodded and patted his chest pocket. "Right here, where they're safe." He turned and looked once more out the window. "Now, it's simply a matter of getting through all those ponies." Winter shuddered as he took in the horrors before him.

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    13 comments · 3,500 views
  • 15 weeks
    SA: Round 178

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

    Matthew stumbled through the basement, crouching low to avoid all the pipes on the ceiling. Floydien hadn’t told him much, just that it was extremely important, had nothing to do with Intern, and to take the last fire door on the left.

    After what seemed like eternity in an instant, Matthew finally came to said fire door, damp with sweat and condensation. He carefully undid the latch and opened it with one arm raised just in case of any traps. Only to be greeted with the sounds of maniacal but joyous laughter as he spotted Floydien sitting in the center of the room surrounded by thousands of stacks of papers.

    “I found it!” Floydien said, tossing a stapled pack of papers to Matthew. “I finally found the answer. The answer to all of our questions. To our very existence!”

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    3 comments · 3,414 views
  • 18 weeks
    SA: Round 177

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

    Intern sat looking at the list of new interns, then frowned at the absence of the same. "Now, where could they be?" He exited the janitor’s closet and started down the hall, only to stop at the sound of maniacal laughter. "...the hell?" Rounding a corner, the mystery of the missing interns was solved: Winter had them all lined up in one of the larger conference rooms while he stood behind what looked like a control panel. Each was seated in a chair, sweating profusely as they watched a figure dressed in black and white silently making motions as if he was in an invisible box.

    Intern sidled up to Winter and whispered, "Umm...what are you doing?"

    Winter startled and said, "Oh! Intern! Just in time! Here, put this on." He handed him a round, red, spongy object.

    "What is this?"

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    5 comments · 4,407 views
  • 20 weeks
    SA: Round 176

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

    Floydien came to in the dark. He was strapped into a chair of some kind, but only by normal restraints. His arms were free. Ahead of him, he saw bright display lights and—


    The chair in front of him shifted as Cyne looked over her shoulder and grinned. “Oh, we probably aren’t! My working theory is that our prolonged isolation within the infinite Seattle’s Maze is starting to warp our very understanding of reality, enabling us to cycle matter, even rebuild it at will, kind of basically making us Gundam-style Newtypes, but for subterranean dyson-sphere size mazes instead of space.”


    “Oh, we’re kind of apotheozing in slow motion. It’s honestly boring as heck. Anyway, enjoy the view! We’re assaulting A Bao Qu alongside White Base!”

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    5 comments · 3,804 views
  • 23 weeks
    SA: Round 175

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

    “Got your mask on?”

    “Yeah, but these seem a little excessive for COVID.”

    Matthew gave FanficFan an incredulous stare through his gas mask. “Worse things than COVID have probably mutated down there.”

    Memories of foreign smells from the last time he’d done reviews with Intern came to mind. “Good point.”

    Standing next to a manhole cover, Matthew readied his industrial strength laser cutter (borrowed from the Compound storage locker, the paperwork was too slow DAMNIT). “Ready with the grappling hook?”

    FanficFan raised the gun shaped tool with the clawed attachment at the manhole cover. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

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    14 comments · 4,708 views
  • 25 weeks
    SA: Round 174

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

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    16 comments · 3,975 views
  • 29 weeks
    SA: Round 173

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

    It was, thought the duck, a very nice day. From her spot in the reedy pond, the short-cropped field of grass stretched out in the rising summer sun, a vast expanse of green surrounded by thin woods. Fat, lethargic clouds hung in the air with the idle threat of rain.

    She was, all things considered, a lucky duck.

    A faint noise caught her attention, some sort of animalistic sound from the woods on the opposite end of the field. Far away from her, and probably nothing. The duck settled back down into the water, relaxing.

    Something very fast and very round came hurtling towards her, and the duck squawked and took flight as the object impacted the water.

    There came a whirring sound over the field, and before long, an electric cart crested the hill.

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    4 comments · 4,159 views
  • 32 weeks
    SA: Round 172

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

    Cyne templed her fingers in the ruins of the empty office block. It had been empty before, which was probably for the best, but it somehow felt doubly so now. The automatons that had started dismantling parts of the lower depths of the endless SA complex rumbled in the distance.

    Drakey pushed rubble out of the way, breaching her domain. “There you are!”

    “There I am, yes.”

    He looked around, whistling. “I’m surprised they left this place in one piece. They’ve demolished a lot of this floor.”

    “Aye. There are decades where weeks happen, and weeks where decades happen.”

    Drakey blinked. “What?”

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    9 comments · 4,033 views
  • 35 weeks
    SA: Round 171

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

    A lone figure topped the rise, then looked down at the ramshackle town situated below. An errant gust of wind blew the sand upwards as he readjusted his goggles and the red scarf that covered the lower half of his face. He scanned the town for the dive bar his sources had told him would be here. Where he might find...him.

    The figure stumbled down the rise, into the town proper. The bar was unmistakable, with various indescribable vehicles parked outside, all weathered by the sand and wind. A large skull of some long-ago creature adorned the top of the doorway, as the figure pushed inside.

    All the patrons looked up and stared at the new arrival, as the man slowly unwound his scarf and removed his goggles. Piercing the crowd with a steely gaze, he made his way to the bar, where the barkeep watched him warily.

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    11 comments · 4,591 views

Story Reviews » SA: Round 180 · 7:42am Nov 23rd, 2020

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

Cynewulf lay in a grassy field. This was a curious occurrence, as the Seattle Angel’s Dyson Sphere-esque compound basement labyrinth did not usually have grass. 

But like she had many times before, she’d been teleported here, and whether or not the sky above her was real or not, she didn’t mind. The grass was nice, and the wind was nice, and whatever happened happened.

There was a great crash and Corejo stumbled into the grass to her right.

“Oh, god, are we out? How did—”

“No clue. I suspect that it’ll just take us back anyhow. Did you have the reviews? The machine came for me a few days ago, so I’ve got mine.”

“I… Uh, I was late. I mean, we both are, unless you’ve been here for days.”

“Nope, only a few hours, so we finished about the same time.” Cynewulf shrugged. “That’s alright. It happens when it happens.”

Corejo handed over the reviews, and Cynewulf sat up to receive them. Together, they read through and felt the machine listen to more stories.


Wherein unreasonably well-groomed Vikings crash a wedding.

This one here is the silly pick of the round. A short and simple joke about hygiene based off real history, as referenced in the Author's Notes. There isn't much to it outside of Rarity being Rarity and the smidge of RariTwi that happens, but it'll surely get a giggle out of you.

Honestly, I think my comment and Carabas' reply sum it up pretty well:

I often end up writing about fics of a predictable dour air. It’s just kind of my thing. But I do read other things too, and I adore when a writer can just make me smile. It’s kind of obvious what the joke here is, but reading this story reminded me of an earlier time, laughing over a google doc with friends. I miss those times. If you want that kind of humor, this is a good place to find it.

Tavi is gone. One day, she packed up all her things and left. Now I'm all alone, and I don't know what to do with myself. There's an ad in the newspaper promoting an experimental program called Project Rita. It says that it allows ponies to see the future of their relationships in alternate realities. Perhaps I could use it to see Tavi again?

Something something alternate realities and doohickey helmet machines. TaviScratch on the surface, self-discovery underneath.

The premise of "experience the life you could have lived" gave me some End of Ponies vibes, and I went into this one expecting it to get a lot darker than it did. (I can thank the fact I failed to look at the tags for that.) It actually didn't really get that dark at all, just… melancholic? That's not a bad thing; I know I'm in the minority when it comes to dark stories, but with the eventual direction the story took, I think that was the right choice.

It's worth noting when it comes to using dream logic in stories (especially shorter stories, I've found), many authors have trouble keeping the narrative understandable—which I get, cause brain bending and logical inconsistency rely on a certain amount of "this makes no sense." Project Rita never fell into this trap. The inconsistencies and time skips flow smoothly and never muddy what's happening in the moment.

It's fair to say this may come down to the fact this story wasn't meant as a thriller/mystery and as such only barely dipped its toes into the realm of gaslighting, but Muggonny handled its execution professionally regardless.

There's a lot of great relationship wisdom stuffed in here, too. The epilogue hit me pretty hard, and I'm sure I won't be alone in that. It's one hell of a moral everyone should take the time to read.

I also got the End of Ponies vibe here, and that is definitely a good thing. Honestly one of the tropes I love most in science fiction is that of the second chance through time travel. The temptation--to think that given perfect knowledge we could have done better--is hard to ignore. We’ve all wanted to go back and make different  choices, lived different lives. This story really scratched the itch that pushes me to pick up Phillip K. Dick, my go-to for a story that can take sci fi ideas and turn them towards the inner self.

Not long after her and Luna's retirement, Celestia receives a visit from an old...friend? Comrade-at-arms? Fellow immortal? Hopeless crush of her distant youth?

After everything that's happened over the centuries, Celestia's not at all sure what Scorpan is to her any more. The almost-forgotten stirrings in her chest, though, tell her quite clearly what she'd like him to be...

Here's a great one for all you filthy shippers out there. (Yes, I am included in that list, shush.) CelePan? Scorlestia? Idk what to call this ship, but I like it. Honestly, it sounds more like a crackship until you stop and think about it. Then you read this story and go, "wow, that really does work."

The story itself doesn't do anything crazy. In a sentence, it's two old maybe-more-than friends meeting each other again after a millennium, wrapped up in a neat little bow called AugieDog's amazing way with words. No earth-shattering revelations or white-knuckle thriller rides for the adrenaline junkies here, but what it does do, it does so right and so thoroughly. 

Every word out of Celesta's mouth and those that never leave her head are so genuinely Celestia. The measured wordplay and subtle innuendo on display are no small feat and add so much to the story if you take the time to absorb it.

Some readers might find Cele's lovey-dovey narration a little over the top if they aren't the biggest shipping fanatics, but where this is probably the fic's biggest issue for those readers, it remains the cornerstone of what makes it so damn good for those that aren't put off by it. 

I love worldbuilding, and I especially love when people are willing to do it in short form fiction, imagining dynamics and history and giving us a good impression of them in a compact form. It helps when the narration is just really fun and rich too.

Celestia is really on point here. She’s hard not to warp slightly into being something she’s not, and this story really nailed that presentation of a great character.

Old things die to make room for the new. That is the way of the world. But me? I watch the world grow old.

And the tree was happy…

I absolutely adore this story.

This one here is far and beyond the top contender for the sticks-with-you award. There's so much to love about the unique perspective and simplicity of the narration, and the shortness of the chapters gives it a diary-esque feel, which plays in its favor with the vast time skips that take place throughout.

It isn't hard to see where this story is going about a third of the way through, and despite our foresight as the readers into the inevitability of canon, it rings with a sincerity most stories only tangentially grasp.

It says so much with so little. I felt like I had gone the paces of an entire novel by the end. At only 7k words, that's a feat and a half.

So I just have to ask: Yo, Hap, can you just make it big already so I don't have to feel so obligated to shill your amazing stories? Not that I wouldn't anyway, but like damn.

Experimental fiction is always a gamble, always a tightrope walk. This story more than not manages to navigate that tricky journey with grace, and even approaches the poetic in places. It has a wide-eye view, letting you really sort of climb in and inhabit the headspace of something beyond you in scope and years. I love fiction that encourages me to think in new ways, and try to imagine what it might be like to experience the world in a way radically different from how I do now. If you like that kind of thing, this story is definitely going to do it for you.

“I can’t believe we’re still here,” Corejo said for the third time that hour. “I mean like, outside. Not in the maze.”

“Yeah, kinda nice. Think it’ll last?”

Corejo shrugged and dug into the fries.

They’d discovered the field was somewhere near an Arby’s, and apparently they still had money. Cynewulf just sort of accepted it all. There was no reason to be surprised. The evergrowing labyrinth had always taken care of their needs and provided sights to see. Some days she wondered if the outside world was just a immanation of the maze. The reviews were just the monad’s way of knowing itself.

Corejo blinked at her.

“Oh, that was outloud, huh?”

He nodded. “Yeah. What are you talking about?”

“Just, uh.”

“We all need to get out more, I think.”

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


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Comments ( 8 )

I'm glad to see Hap's The Only Tree in the Forest here. I keep a fond memory of getting a sneak peek of the story during EFNW 2019, as well as participating in the proofreading process. It's worthy of a read and fits right and well in the SA's list.

“We all need to get out more, I think.”

Ah yes, the message we all need in these times of pandemic crisis :trollestia:

Another day, another dollar

For those browsing the comments:

I’ve read The Only Tree In the Forest, and it’s one of the best stories I’ve read. Take a look at that one, at least.

That Muggonny guy sure can write

Huh, I've read all these but the first one. That's pretty unusual for me. And agreed, they're all worth reading.

OFF TO VIKING RARITY I GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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