Technically, not terrible
Chapter 5: Novelember II

“So?” Applejack tried to hide her eager expression. “What do you think?”

“Well.” Twilight set the manuscript down and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “You promised your next Novelember fic would have airplanes.”

“And boy howdy, does it.”

“Yes.” Twilight nodded. “It does.”

“I see a bit of a frown.”

“Well, it’s technically not terrible,” Twilight said. “It’s thematically connected to the first, with your same self-insert protagonist, but I’ll be completely honest, I liked the first one better. Your character was fresh and new, and the idea of a hostage situation during Hearth’s Warming inside a Neighponese office tower was creative. This feels like you’re reaching too hard.”

“Well, maybe I did,” Applejack admitted. “I’ve got an idea for a third, though.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I’ll be teaming up with a Zebra, and solving riddles to stop Flam’s brother as he tries to rob the Manehattan gold repository.”

“Really.”

“And it’s gonna involve trucks. And a train.”

Twilight sighed. “Well, you’ve sold me.”

Chapter 7: Peach Wine

Technically, not terrible
Chapter 7: Peach Wine

“And what is this?”

Peachy Keen swallowed a lump in her throat. “It’s peach wine, if it pleases you.”

Big Mac frowned. “It’s technically not terrible.” He passed the glass to his sister. “AJ, what do you think?”

She took a sip. “Fruity, that’s a plus. High proof, another plus. But it’s peach. Therefore, I too, return a neutral verdict. Apple Bloom?”

The youngest Apple took a taste. “Meh from me.”

“That’s three neutral votes,” Big Mac said. “You know the rules.”

Peachy Keen nodded. “To the elder.”

“To the elder.”

The younger Apple siblings reverently passed the glass to Granny Smith, who took one sip and spit it out on the floor. “Pah. Peach? Off with her head.”

Applejack shrugged, and picked up her sword. “Well, sorry, but you heard the verdict.”

Chapter 8: The Worst Possible Thing

Technically, not terrible
Chapter 8: The Worst Possible Thing

“This is the worst possible thing,” Rarity groused.

“I dunno,” Pinkie Pie replied. “This one time, at band camp—”

“I just dropped a stitch,” Rarity grumbled.

“Never mind that, row!” Pinkie looked in the water around them, where the unmistakable dorsal fins of sharks patrolled. “Why are you even sewing on a boat?”

“It’s what I do. It’s all I do; I’m prim and proper and a fashion horse and totally one dimensional.”

“Let it all out.”

“And that’s it.”

“Really?”

“No, not really.” Rarity reached under the pile of fabric and pulled forth a Thompson machine gun. “Die, motherfuckers!”

Her words were mostly lost in the rattle of the gun.

Pinkie sat in the stern and watched as the water turned into a pink froth. Yeah, it was bad for the sharks, but in terms of their own survival, it was technically not terrible.