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The Meaning of Turtles
Sandbar went to put his front hooves in the water, but he stopped when he saw all the other foals doing it. They splashed at the crabs, pressed down on the backs of the manta rays, leaned so close their parents had to stop them from falling in, and generally made a whole ton of noise. Sweet Celestia, the noise. It was worse than a water park. Sandbar leaned over the edge of the touch pool and blew his mane out of his face.
His father prodded him on the shoulder. “Well? What do you think?”
“About what?” replied Sandbar.
“You know.” His father gestured towards the water. “Him.”
Sandbar looked down at the turtle, swimming in the same circle it had been swimming in for the past five minutes. It was about the size of his head.
“Well.” Sandbar thought long and hard. “It’s definitely… a turtle.”
“Aaaaaand?”
Sandbar screwed up his face. He leaned in close and pressed the turtle’s shell with the tip of his hoof, causing it to bounce off the sandy floor, and, as if a spell had been broken, it left its circle and swam away.
Sandbar waved it goodbye. “I got nothing,” he said.
“You can’t remember anything?”
“Nope. Can we go home now?”
His father sighed. “Don’t worry, Son, we’ll jog your memory. We just have to be patient.”
“We can be patient at home.”
“Sandbar, c’mon. Why do you want to go home so bad?”
Next to them, a giggling filly slapped both hooves in the water, going after a fleeing manta ray. The splash struck Sandbar in the cheek. “Because this is boring,” he grumbled.
“But all you do at home is stare at the ceiling. That’s boring.”
“Ceilings are cool, Dad. Have you ever looked at one?”
His father crouched down to his level—Why were grown-ups always doing that?—and whispered, “C’mon, this is important. Getting your cutie mark in your sleep is a very serious problem.”
“Doesn’t bother me.”
“Yeah, well, nothing bothers you. I’ve read stories about foals who’ve had this happen to them, you know. All of them tragic.”
Sandbar groaned.
“These foals, they can’t remember what dream they were having when they got their mark, and they wander around for the rest of their lives, aimlessly, trying to make sense of it. I don’t want that to happen to you.”
Sandbar stared longingly at the crowd of families around the touch pool. He was tempted to slip away while his father wasn’t looking. In a crowd this size, it would take him an hour to be found. Sandbar could blend in like nopony’s business.
Suddenly, he perked up. “I was drowning,” he said.
His father swallowed. “When? In the dream?”
“Yeah. I just remembered. I was… We were drowning. You, and Mom, and me. We were in a shipwreck out on the ocean, and there was this storm, and we were sinking, and it was dark, and cold, and wet, but then this giant, massive sea turtle”—he swept his hooves in a giant, massive arc—“came out of nowhere and brought us up to the surface!” Sandbar nodded. “That’s how I got my cutie mark.”
“I don’t think being rescued constitutes a special talent, Sandbar. Nice try, though.”
Sandbar snorted like a bull and turned back to the water. “I don’t remember, Dad. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. You just need to get a closer look.”
“Huh?”
Without so much as a tap on the shoulder, Sandbar’s father picked him up and stuck him under his shoulder like a hoofball.
“Dad, wait—!”
Dad did not wait. He charged through the crowd of families, shouting, “Outta the way!” and bowling ponies over like they were pins. He caught up to the turtle, brushed aside the colt patting its head, and held Sandbar over it. The creature flew into its shell, leaving behind only bubbles.
“You’re scaring it,” Sandbar said.
“And how does that make you feel?”
“Excuse me, sir?”
Sandbar dropped to the floor, landing like a cat on all fours. He turned around. A blue-jacketed mare with a mean scowl was nose-to-nose with his father, who was shying away.
“Sir,” she said, “some of the other parents are complaining about your behavior.”
Sandbar turned away to hide his smile. Kick us out, please, kick us out.
His father sputtered, then said, “I apologize, Ma’am, but this is a cutie mark emergency.”
A pause. “But… your son already has his cutie mark,” the security guard responded. Sandbar felt terribly watched.
“Yes, he got it last night. While he was sleeping.”
The guard let out a horrified gasp. “No,” she pleaded.
“I’m afraid so.”
Sandbar rolled his eyes. He made to run away, but the two grown-ups boxed him in on either side.
“Well?” the guard pointed at the turtle. “What do you think?”
“Nothing.” Sandbar pointed suddenly at the trembling, underwater shell. “Wait, look!” he cried
The grown-ups craned their heads in. “What?” said one. “What?” said the other.
“It’s a turtle!” Sandbar cheered, then deflated onto the edge of the pool. “Can I go home now?”
The two grown-ups scoffed, walked away from him, and began scratching their chins.
“Say,” said the guard. “Do you think he needs to see an adult sea turtle?”
“Is there such a thing?” his father replied.
Sandbar rolled his eyes and followed them so he could hear.
“Oh, yes. In fact, I say we take your son to the VIP Room.”
“Is there such a place?”
“Absolutely. It’s on the other side of the largest tank we have. You can see all the same animals, but it’s more private. It’s technically not allowed, but…”
When she looked down at Sandbar, he pouted and shook his head as hard as he could.
“…This is an emergency.”
Sandbar crumpled.
“We’ve no time to lose!” his father cried, and as he charged for him, Sandbar lifted his hooves and waited to be picked up like a good little hoofball.
The sign on the glass said it was the biggest sea turtle for hundreds of miles. Well, yeah. Of course it was. The aquarium was hundreds of miles from the nearest ocean. But either way, it was the biggest turtle, no, the biggest animal, that Sandbar had ever seen. As it banked by the window, It reached from floor to ceiling. The lights in the tank barely made it past him, leaving the room dark, but with warping shimmers of green, blue, and orange.
Sandbar’s mouth fell open. He stepped back past the flanking grown-ups, who looked at him expectantly.
“Um.” He swallowed. “Can I… be alone for a second?”
Without a word, his father and the guard scuttled out of the room. When the door shut, Sandbar’s face fell back to neutral.
“Finally,” he grumbled. He walked up to the glass, spun around, and sat up against it, sighing like he’d crawled into bed. He tilted his head back, reached up and tapped on the glass right under the sign that said do not tap on the glass.
“Thanks for the assist, big guy,” he said. “Mind if I chill here a while?”
The turtle didn’t respond. It didn’t say a word. It didn’t wink, didn’t smile, didn’t pay Sandbar the slightest bit of attention.
Sandbar stared at the ceiling. The shadows of fish swam across it every which way, like thoughts swimming in somepony’s head, but the turtle’s shadow never changed course. It only swam in an easy circle.
Just like in his dream.
His father prodded him on the shoulder. “Well? What do you think?”
“About what?” replied Sandbar.
“You know.” His father gestured towards the water. “Him.”
Sandbar looked down at the turtle, swimming in the same circle it had been swimming in for the past five minutes. It was about the size of his head.
“Well.” Sandbar thought long and hard. “It’s definitely… a turtle.”
“Aaaaaand?”
Sandbar screwed up his face. He leaned in close and pressed the turtle’s shell with the tip of his hoof, causing it to bounce off the sandy floor, and, as if a spell had been broken, it left its circle and swam away.
Sandbar waved it goodbye. “I got nothing,” he said.
“You can’t remember anything?”
“Nope. Can we go home now?”
His father sighed. “Don’t worry, Son, we’ll jog your memory. We just have to be patient.”
“We can be patient at home.”
“Sandbar, c’mon. Why do you want to go home so bad?”
Next to them, a giggling filly slapped both hooves in the water, going after a fleeing manta ray. The splash struck Sandbar in the cheek. “Because this is boring,” he grumbled.
“But all you do at home is stare at the ceiling. That’s boring.”
“Ceilings are cool, Dad. Have you ever looked at one?”
His father crouched down to his level—Why were grown-ups always doing that?—and whispered, “C’mon, this is important. Getting your cutie mark in your sleep is a very serious problem.”
“Doesn’t bother me.”
“Yeah, well, nothing bothers you. I’ve read stories about foals who’ve had this happen to them, you know. All of them tragic.”
Sandbar groaned.
“These foals, they can’t remember what dream they were having when they got their mark, and they wander around for the rest of their lives, aimlessly, trying to make sense of it. I don’t want that to happen to you.”
Sandbar stared longingly at the crowd of families around the touch pool. He was tempted to slip away while his father wasn’t looking. In a crowd this size, it would take him an hour to be found. Sandbar could blend in like nopony’s business.
Suddenly, he perked up. “I was drowning,” he said.
His father swallowed. “When? In the dream?”
“Yeah. I just remembered. I was… We were drowning. You, and Mom, and me. We were in a shipwreck out on the ocean, and there was this storm, and we were sinking, and it was dark, and cold, and wet, but then this giant, massive sea turtle”—he swept his hooves in a giant, massive arc—“came out of nowhere and brought us up to the surface!” Sandbar nodded. “That’s how I got my cutie mark.”
“I don’t think being rescued constitutes a special talent, Sandbar. Nice try, though.”
Sandbar snorted like a bull and turned back to the water. “I don’t remember, Dad. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. You just need to get a closer look.”
“Huh?”
Without so much as a tap on the shoulder, Sandbar’s father picked him up and stuck him under his shoulder like a hoofball.
“Dad, wait—!”
Dad did not wait. He charged through the crowd of families, shouting, “Outta the way!” and bowling ponies over like they were pins. He caught up to the turtle, brushed aside the colt patting its head, and held Sandbar over it. The creature flew into its shell, leaving behind only bubbles.
“You’re scaring it,” Sandbar said.
“And how does that make you feel?”
“Excuse me, sir?”
Sandbar dropped to the floor, landing like a cat on all fours. He turned around. A blue-jacketed mare with a mean scowl was nose-to-nose with his father, who was shying away.
“Sir,” she said, “some of the other parents are complaining about your behavior.”
Sandbar turned away to hide his smile. Kick us out, please, kick us out.
His father sputtered, then said, “I apologize, Ma’am, but this is a cutie mark emergency.”
A pause. “But… your son already has his cutie mark,” the security guard responded. Sandbar felt terribly watched.
“Yes, he got it last night. While he was sleeping.”
The guard let out a horrified gasp. “No,” she pleaded.
“I’m afraid so.”
Sandbar rolled his eyes. He made to run away, but the two grown-ups boxed him in on either side.
“Well?” the guard pointed at the turtle. “What do you think?”
“Nothing.” Sandbar pointed suddenly at the trembling, underwater shell. “Wait, look!” he cried
The grown-ups craned their heads in. “What?” said one. “What?” said the other.
“It’s a turtle!” Sandbar cheered, then deflated onto the edge of the pool. “Can I go home now?”
The two grown-ups scoffed, walked away from him, and began scratching their chins.
“Say,” said the guard. “Do you think he needs to see an adult sea turtle?”
“Is there such a thing?” his father replied.
Sandbar rolled his eyes and followed them so he could hear.
“Oh, yes. In fact, I say we take your son to the VIP Room.”
“Is there such a place?”
“Absolutely. It’s on the other side of the largest tank we have. You can see all the same animals, but it’s more private. It’s technically not allowed, but…”
When she looked down at Sandbar, he pouted and shook his head as hard as he could.
“…This is an emergency.”
Sandbar crumpled.
“We’ve no time to lose!” his father cried, and as he charged for him, Sandbar lifted his hooves and waited to be picked up like a good little hoofball.
The sign on the glass said it was the biggest sea turtle for hundreds of miles. Well, yeah. Of course it was. The aquarium was hundreds of miles from the nearest ocean. But either way, it was the biggest turtle, no, the biggest animal, that Sandbar had ever seen. As it banked by the window, It reached from floor to ceiling. The lights in the tank barely made it past him, leaving the room dark, but with warping shimmers of green, blue, and orange.
Sandbar’s mouth fell open. He stepped back past the flanking grown-ups, who looked at him expectantly.
“Um.” He swallowed. “Can I… be alone for a second?”
Without a word, his father and the guard scuttled out of the room. When the door shut, Sandbar’s face fell back to neutral.
“Finally,” he grumbled. He walked up to the glass, spun around, and sat up against it, sighing like he’d crawled into bed. He tilted his head back, reached up and tapped on the glass right under the sign that said do not tap on the glass.
“Thanks for the assist, big guy,” he said. “Mind if I chill here a while?”
The turtle didn’t respond. It didn’t say a word. It didn’t wink, didn’t smile, didn’t pay Sandbar the slightest bit of attention.
Sandbar stared at the ceiling. The shadows of fish swam across it every which way, like thoughts swimming in somepony’s head, but the turtle’s shadow never changed course. It only swam in an easy circle.
Just like in his dream.
Pics
So, Sandbar's special talent is passivity? Cool.
The tone kinda fluctuates between whimsical and serious in a weird way, though. That's really the only problem I have with this. So if you ever reevaluate this piece, that's what I'd focus on.
This is a wonderfully original piece, though. And I really like the idea of foals getting cutie marks in their sleep; that some can't remember the dream is beautifully horrifying. I also think you did the ending really well, I love how it transitions into this peaceful image and doesn't leave us hanging nor try and be dramatic. It just is.
So overall? Other than the weird tone, this is a pretty cool story.
Ninja edit after Anon Y Mous's comment: it's not that I think you can't switch between tones, it's that the transitions felt abrupt and out of place in a piece this short. I actually also love the image of the dad picking him up like a football, but it just flipped a little to fast for me.
The tone kinda fluctuates between whimsical and serious in a weird way, though. That's really the only problem I have with this. So if you ever reevaluate this piece, that's what I'd focus on.
This is a wonderfully original piece, though. And I really like the idea of foals getting cutie marks in their sleep; that some can't remember the dream is beautifully horrifying. I also think you did the ending really well, I love how it transitions into this peaceful image and doesn't leave us hanging nor try and be dramatic. It just is.
So overall? Other than the weird tone, this is a pretty cool story.
Ninja edit after Anon Y Mous's comment: it's not that I think you can't switch between tones, it's that the transitions felt abrupt and out of place in a piece this short. I actually also love the image of the dad picking him up like a football, but it just flipped a little to fast for me.
I disagree that the tone switches from comical to serious are bad. I love them and think they are a welcome addition to the piece which makes it wonderful in its own way.
I loved the idea and I love the image of his dad picking him up like a football and charging through everyone.
I loved the idea and I love the image of his dad picking him up like a football and charging through everyone.
So it turns out Sandbar's special talent is... slowcore. *starts blasting Earth 2*
Something I liked:
I feel as if I know Sandbar very well, even though I actually don't. My indifference toward the student six is well-documented, but that doesn't mean it's impossible to write a student six story that impresses me. This... yeah, this is fairly impressive. It borders on the existential, at least from the dad's end, in how it deals with a very peculiar issue that I didn't even consider with cutie marks. The show dedicated a few episodes to cutie marks and their quirks, but this story makes me wish they did something like this. The fact that Sandbar is content with how he's defined by what he doesn't do is weirdly sweet.
Something I didn't like:
I don't like how the two scenes sort of clash with each other, to put it simply. There seems to be some disagreement about the tonal shifts within the story, but I don't think this is a tonal issue. It never gets too serious and it never gets too humorous, in my opinion. The problem, for me, lies in how the transition between these scenes is almost unnecessary. I have to wonder if it would take much to merge the two scenes such that we don't need a transition, and in fact we could probably get away with all of the action taking place around the turtle exhibit. You don't need this much action.
Verdict: A character study of a character I never had any interest in that's still enthralling. Miller probably wrote it.
Something I liked:
I feel as if I know Sandbar very well, even though I actually don't. My indifference toward the student six is well-documented, but that doesn't mean it's impossible to write a student six story that impresses me. This... yeah, this is fairly impressive. It borders on the existential, at least from the dad's end, in how it deals with a very peculiar issue that I didn't even consider with cutie marks. The show dedicated a few episodes to cutie marks and their quirks, but this story makes me wish they did something like this. The fact that Sandbar is content with how he's defined by what he doesn't do is weirdly sweet.
Something I didn't like:
I don't like how the two scenes sort of clash with each other, to put it simply. There seems to be some disagreement about the tonal shifts within the story, but I don't think this is a tonal issue. It never gets too serious and it never gets too humorous, in my opinion. The problem, for me, lies in how the transition between these scenes is almost unnecessary. I have to wonder if it would take much to merge the two scenes such that we don't need a transition, and in fact we could probably get away with all of the action taking place around the turtle exhibit. You don't need this much action.
Verdict: A character study of a character I never had any interest in that's still enthralling. Miller probably wrote it.
Genre: Possibly-teenage, likely-not-mutant, definitely-not-ninja
Thoughts: Sandbar is chillest pony, and for the brief span of this fic, we get to chill out along with him.
A’ight.
Of course, a lot of the plot here depends on getting the reader to accept the novel and headcanon-y concept that receiving one’s cutie mark in one’s sleep is a dire and well-known Bad Thing. I find myself struggling with the tonal clash of Sandbar’s irrepressible urge to chillax set against this looming sword-of-as-you-know-icles, but I feel it’s in large part because the story succeeds at presenting the Very Bad Thing nature of Sandbar’s circumstances.
I’ve spent a while trying to write my way around this without getting personal, and I keep deleting my attempts, so I’m just going to rip the bandaid off: I myself am a parent, and I’ve encountered some Very Bad Things with my own kids. Fortunately they’ve made it through without being too much worse for wear, but it gets visceral for me when I think about a parent looking at an evidently well-established Bad Thing involving their kid and trying to figure out what to do with it. Consider that this isn’t presented as a sociocultural issue or a philosophical disagreement (except perhaps obliquely)—this is presented as Very Objectively Bad, kind of like how a life-threatening medical issue would be Very Objectively Bad.
Yes, for Sandbar, this is no big deal; and yes, there’s clearly a disagreement between him and his dad about whether it’s a big deal. But the thought that it is a big deal is reinforced by their interactions with the security guard. For me, that takes it out of the realm of “Ugh my dad doesn’t understand me” and into the realm of Sandbar needing to explain himself in order for me to keep following. And since it turns out that he actually does remember the dream in the end, I feel like a lot of the conflict here could’ve been shortcutted with that kind of conversation.
Still, this is of undeniable writing quality. It does a good job of building up Sandbar’s perspective as sympathetic. It paints clear pictures of the kids assailing the poor critters in the touch pool, and of the big ol’ turtle that features at the end. Even the things I called out above didn’t really bug me until I made a few attempts to bring a critical eye to this. It’s the kind of fic where I want to say it lands in the upper quarter of my slate somewhere, except that with only seven stories, I basically can’t. D:
Tier: (All of the stories this round are good)
Thoughts: Sandbar is chillest pony, and for the brief span of this fic, we get to chill out along with him.
A’ight.
Of course, a lot of the plot here depends on getting the reader to accept the novel and headcanon-y concept that receiving one’s cutie mark in one’s sleep is a dire and well-known Bad Thing. I find myself struggling with the tonal clash of Sandbar’s irrepressible urge to chillax set against this looming sword-of-as-you-know-icles, but I feel it’s in large part because the story succeeds at presenting the Very Bad Thing nature of Sandbar’s circumstances.
I’ve spent a while trying to write my way around this without getting personal, and I keep deleting my attempts, so I’m just going to rip the bandaid off: I myself am a parent, and I’ve encountered some Very Bad Things with my own kids. Fortunately they’ve made it through without being too much worse for wear, but it gets visceral for me when I think about a parent looking at an evidently well-established Bad Thing involving their kid and trying to figure out what to do with it. Consider that this isn’t presented as a sociocultural issue or a philosophical disagreement (except perhaps obliquely)—this is presented as Very Objectively Bad, kind of like how a life-threatening medical issue would be Very Objectively Bad.
Yes, for Sandbar, this is no big deal; and yes, there’s clearly a disagreement between him and his dad about whether it’s a big deal. But the thought that it is a big deal is reinforced by their interactions with the security guard. For me, that takes it out of the realm of “Ugh my dad doesn’t understand me” and into the realm of Sandbar needing to explain himself in order for me to keep following. And since it turns out that he actually does remember the dream in the end, I feel like a lot of the conflict here could’ve been shortcutted with that kind of conversation.
Still, this is of undeniable writing quality. It does a good job of building up Sandbar’s perspective as sympathetic. It paints clear pictures of the kids assailing the poor critters in the touch pool, and of the big ol’ turtle that features at the end. Even the things I called out above didn’t really bug me until I made a few attempts to bring a critical eye to this. It’s the kind of fic where I want to say it lands in the upper quarter of my slate somewhere, except that with only seven stories, I basically can’t. D:
Tier: (All of the stories this round are good)
I'm being a lot more finicky than I usually am with this batch of reviews because every one of you that entered this time around is just so offensively good, so a lot of the things that bothered me this time around are things that I'd simply discard on a whim in most other rounds. With this particular entry, fellow Author, I really dig what this entry is going for in concept. I also believe this entry managed to achieve it with its execution as well. I do think, however, that there are some aspects that you may have overlooked when slotting them into the larger picture. Again, not that it really messes with my general experience with the story right away; this is all just me being extra nitpicky.
Onto the good stuff first, I really like this rather literal deconstruction of a character's Cutie Mark and characterization we're being presented with here. Bar the occasional OC, it's not something that I usually see really diving into beyond the realm of the comical. I agree with >>CoffeeMinion that Sandbar's perspective is really sold well here on the same points. It's a juxtaposition akin to that of Tempest with its collision of ideas, albeit one that's less convoluted to immerse and digest due to having a narrower scope, so that's all good.
My main gripe with this story might intertwine with >>MLPmatthewl419's issues with the tone as well as expound upon >>CoffeeMinion's issues with the conversation between Sandbar and his dad, in that I feel like the way the first scene is structured is really only to hit all the threads that stick out in the second. Put it another way, I feel like the second scene was written before the first, or at least was thought out first, and that the story had to find a way to get to it without making it seem like it's just a single moment snipped out from a grander scene.
Honestly, if I think really hard about it, I find that the first scene structurally is a bit sloppy. The whole rule about there being a problem for a foal to get their Cutie Mark in their sleep is particularly a haphazard idea in of itself, especially if I frame it in the context of the show's canon, and for it to have to be told in exposition by Sandbar's dad kinda drives home about how forced it is. I definitely believe there's a better way to get Sandbar to come and view this adult turtle after being plagued by the frenzy of the rest of the world. I think it's a missed opportunity also to not get his dad to come around to his resolution. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I question: why even use his dad at all?
Again, I like what this is going for, I really do. I just think it needs a bit of tweaking here and there to really hit home the theme driving through this entry. I'd say a narrower perspective would help this story out. If not, maybe a reframing of the first scene, or at least have Sandbar's father act beyond his throes of desperation.
Thanks for writing, and good luck!
Onto the good stuff first, I really like this rather literal deconstruction of a character's Cutie Mark and characterization we're being presented with here. Bar the occasional OC, it's not something that I usually see really diving into beyond the realm of the comical. I agree with >>CoffeeMinion that Sandbar's perspective is really sold well here on the same points. It's a juxtaposition akin to that of Tempest with its collision of ideas, albeit one that's less convoluted to immerse and digest due to having a narrower scope, so that's all good.
My main gripe with this story might intertwine with >>MLPmatthewl419's issues with the tone as well as expound upon >>CoffeeMinion's issues with the conversation between Sandbar and his dad, in that I feel like the way the first scene is structured is really only to hit all the threads that stick out in the second. Put it another way, I feel like the second scene was written before the first, or at least was thought out first, and that the story had to find a way to get to it without making it seem like it's just a single moment snipped out from a grander scene.
Honestly, if I think really hard about it, I find that the first scene structurally is a bit sloppy. The whole rule about there being a problem for a foal to get their Cutie Mark in their sleep is particularly a haphazard idea in of itself, especially if I frame it in the context of the show's canon, and for it to have to be told in exposition by Sandbar's dad kinda drives home about how forced it is. I definitely believe there's a better way to get Sandbar to come and view this adult turtle after being plagued by the frenzy of the rest of the world. I think it's a missed opportunity also to not get his dad to come around to his resolution. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I question: why even use his dad at all?
Again, I like what this is going for, I really do. I just think it needs a bit of tweaking here and there to really hit home the theme driving through this entry. I'd say a narrower perspective would help this story out. If not, maybe a reframing of the first scene, or at least have Sandbar's father act beyond his throes of desperation.
Thanks for writing, and good luck!
>>MLPmatthewl419
>>Anon Y Mous
>>No_Raisin
>>CoffeeMinion
>>WritingSpirit
I sometimes hold back on writing retrospectives on the off chance I can shortly post the full story on fimfiction, and then link it right away in the comments.
But alas, that would require me to get my act together.
Thanks for reading and leaving your thoughts, everyone. I pretty much know what I have to do to improve on this one. With apologies to Coffee for my edits railroading him the wrong way, the point of the story was that the adults are overreacting. It may be a bad thing for some, to find your purpose in a dream, but for this colt it's clearly not. So just chill, fam. Deep breaths. Just think. And check out the turtle, innit neat?
This story was the result of a perfect storm of reading this analysis of Sandbar's character by my friend Semillon while listening to this song. Nice coincidence, right? No, I've just had that song on repeat for a while lately. And in the moment it felt very him.
Plus, a quick search on fimfiction yielded no results for sandbar's cutie mark origin??? I couldn't believe my luck.
Thanks again to anon and coffee for your arts! They were incredibly cool. And the feeling of having art drawn for your story is just... irreplaceable. Sincerely, thank you.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to the aquarium.
>>Anon Y Mous
>>No_Raisin
>>CoffeeMinion
>>WritingSpirit
I sometimes hold back on writing retrospectives on the off chance I can shortly post the full story on fimfiction, and then link it right away in the comments.
But alas, that would require me to get my act together.
Thanks for reading and leaving your thoughts, everyone. I pretty much know what I have to do to improve on this one. With apologies to Coffee for my edits railroading him the wrong way, the point of the story was that the adults are overreacting. It may be a bad thing for some, to find your purpose in a dream, but for this colt it's clearly not. So just chill, fam. Deep breaths. Just think. And check out the turtle, innit neat?
This story was the result of a perfect storm of reading this analysis of Sandbar's character by my friend Semillon while listening to this song. Nice coincidence, right? No, I've just had that song on repeat for a while lately. And in the moment it felt very him.
Plus, a quick search on fimfiction yielded no results for sandbar's cutie mark origin??? I couldn't believe my luck.
Thanks again to anon and coffee for your arts! They were incredibly cool. And the feeling of having art drawn for your story is just... irreplaceable. Sincerely, thank you.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to the aquarium.