Writer's note: Anon/Rarity shenanigans
 
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>Ah, nothing like the heavenly fragrance of fresh pastries to rev up your appetite.
>With a final "thanks", you grab the paper bag and bid adieu to Mrs. Cake, making to head out of SugarCube Corner and back home.
>"Hey Anon!"
>Your escape is put on hold as you pause, searching the line of ponies patiently waiting their turn to order.
>You don't have to look far; one customer sticks out like a sore thumb... or in, considering his height.
"Yo, what's up?"
>A poor choice of words, considering your eagerness to devour your spoils.
>Spike ceases his waving, shrugging in an attempt to look nonchalant.
>"Not much. I was in the mood for a snack, so I came here."
>You nod, mimicking the actions normally reserved for appearing interested.
"That's great. Hey, we'll talk later, 'kay?"
>Your definition of the word "later" differs greatly from his, but he doesn't have to know that.
>"Sure!"
>Pleased with the turn of events, you give the vertically-challenged dragon a thumbs-up.
"Good. Great! Catch ya later."
>Spike nods, giving you the go ahead to proceed out of the building.
>Small bell chimes ring softly as you step you step out into the open air, a pleasant breeze greeting you.
>The weather today is comfortably warm as always, only a few clouds lining the sky.
>Ponies, of course, are everywhere. Some are moving about, while others stop to chat or even sit at one of the many tables lined outside the bakery.
>Just being out here is putting you in an unusually good mood.
>...Home can wait.
>It doesn't take long to find a suitable table, plopping yourself down on a stool.
>You'd do unspeakable things for a decent backrest.
>The paper bag is placed on the round table and promptly opened, hands greedily claiming your prize.
>You bring the blueberry muffin close to your lips, whispering sweet nothings to the inanimate object.
"Tell me your secrets."
>Last rites complete, you take a bite.
>It's difficult to pay attention to your surroundings, considering the orgasm in your mouth, but you manage.
>...Not that there's much to observe. When there isn't a new flavor-of-the-week crisis affecting Ponyville, the town gets pretty mellow.
>You spend the next few minutes polishing off your snack, silently wishing you had picked up something to drink.
>You should stop by that new place, the one with a bunch of different flavors of juice.
>What's it called...
>"Anon!"
>No, that's definitely not its name.
>You lazily shift your head just enough to spot Spike making his way towards your resting area.
>Oh crap, you told him you'd talk later. Now it looks like you were trying to blow him off.
>Spike comes to a stop near you, claws tightly gripping a bag similar to yours.
>He's gonna call you out on your little stunt, you just know it.
>"Mind if I join you?"
>He's biding his time, you just know it.
>You gesture towards the three available stools.
"Knock yourself out."
>"Great!"
>The purple dragon clamors onto the closest seat, resting to your left. His arms barely clear the tabletop enough to fumble with his bag, reaching inside for treasures unknown.
>"I gotta say, you have a funny definition of 'later'."
>Out comes a muffin, which he takes a moment to admire before greedily shoving half of it down his gullet.
>You mentally shed a tear for all the gems residing in his afternoon snack.
>What cruel omnipotent being decided to make dragons eat jewels?
>Seeing Spike devour the gem-encrusted muffin stirs up your appetite, reminding you of the lone baked good remaining in your bag.
>Kinda tempting to eat it now instead of saving it for later.
>Spike makes to finish off his meal when he abruptly stops, the muffin mere centimeters from his open mouth.
>It's only now you realize he's looking at you, confusion all too evident.
>"What?"
"What?"
>"I don't know. You're staring at me... Or the muffin, I can't tell."
>He glances down to it before looking back up.
>"Do you want a piece?"
>You're certain human teeth aren't suited to eat gems.
"I appreciate the offer, but no thank you."
>Spike shrugs, but you know he's happy he doesn't have to share.
>Come to think of it, doesn't he already know you can't eat gems?
>...
>"Suit yourself."
>The rest of the muffin disappears in seconds, a few crumbs sprinkling onto the table in defeat.
>Must... resist... urge... to eat... backup muffin...
>You pull away from watching Spike, lest your will falter.
>You know yourself. All it takes is one moment of weakness.
>Instead, you take keen interest in a pair of ponies not too far from you.
>From here it looks an awful lot like they're arguing, if the elaborate gesturing means anything.
>Wonder what they're fighting over...
>"Oh!"
>Welp, back to Spike.
>Reluctantly you turn back, only to be greeted by a wooden tabletop covered in little bits of muffin and gem fragments.
>An eyebrow raises as you watch the pint-sized dragon hastily sweep the crumbs off from his unexpected outburst before refocusing on you.
>He appears a little excited.
>"I almost forgot! Rarity said she's been looking for you!"
>You freeze, one hand lurching to an abrupt halt from its effort to acquire your muffin.
>Aw crap.
>Spike's enthusiasm dies down, concern growing as he observes your motionless form.
"When?"
>"Maybe a few hours ago? She said she stopped by your place but didn't find you."
>A few hours ago? Who knows how close you came to being discovered?
>You need to bounce, stat.
"I have to go. If she asks around, tell her you did NOT see me."
>Your hand closes around your spoils, bringing it to your person as you make to get up.
>Time to head back home.
>...No.
>That's where she's expecting you to be. You'd be walking right into her hands... or hooves.
>Spike, naturally, is perplexed.
>"Why not?"
"Because..."
>Where could you possibly go that she'd never check?
>The thrift store? Sweet Apple Acres?
>...
>What about her own boutique? /That/ would be one hell of a mix-up.
>No Anon, that's not how it works.
"...We've had a few... /disagreements/ over the past several days."
>Spike frowns, glancing at you as he reaches in his bag for another gem-stuffed muffin.
>"So instead of talking to Rarity, presumably about said disagreements, you're avoiding her?"
>Sheesh, since when did he get so judgmental?
"Exactly. I'll catch you later."
>You rise from the stool, taking a short moment to stretch.
>Guess who's spending the remainder of the day perched in an apple tree!
>Spike glowers at you, placing his precious treat on the tabletop so he can fold his arms.
>"Don't run from your problems, Anon! You're both mature ponies, so what's wrong with just talking to her?"
>Wow.
>First of all, isn't he technically a child? Where the hell did this sensible advice come from?
>Secondly, it's painfully obvious just how biased he is towards Rarity.
>Nice try, Shorty, but Anon isn't budging an inch.
>You shake your head, taking a small step away from the table.
"Look kid, I promise I'll explain later. Just keep this meeting under wraps, alright?"
>"When you say 'later' does that mean a few minutes from now?"
>What the hell is he...
"/Later/ later. I have to go."
>You can't afford to waste any more time, lest--
>"Yooo-hoo!"
>For the second time, you freeze, eyes going wide as your blood runs cold.
>You'd recognize that melodic voice anywhere.
>You're boned.
>In a flash you drop to the ground, squeezing yourself under the short table in a vain attempt to remain unseen.
>It's not the comfiest position. Your knees are pressed tightly against your chest and you're forced to slouch forward, but anything would be better than the alternative.
>Almost immediately, a dumbfounded dragon pokes his head down.
>He's not the only one looking. Your scuffle attracted the attention of a few ponies, passersby and customers alike.
>You want to tell them to stuff it, but that would give away your hiding spot.
>"Seriously dude?"
>Wordlessly, you bring a finger to your lips.
>"You'd rather huddle underneath a table than talk to Rarity?"
>Your words come out in a half-hiss/half-whisper.
"Keep your voice down!"
>Naturally he ignores you.
>"That's messed up."
>Seriously, what is up with him today?
>Spike glances up for a few seconds before looking back down. Then he repeats it. Up, down, up, down.
>With each pass, his miffed expression degrades.
>The next time he looks at you, there's a smile on his face.
>No... A grin. An /evil/ grin.
>You're worried. What the hell is he thinking?
>...
>He wouldn't.
"Spike..."
>You swear he's doing a perfect Cheshire Cat impression.
"You better not."
>It's worse when they don't respond.
"I swear..."
>That's when he sits back up, and you know full well what he has planned.
>PANIC.
"Spike, I /swear/ to God I will punt you halfway to--"
>Your elaborate threat comes to a pitiful end as Spike calls out, sing-song lacing his tone.
>"Oh Rarity!"
>That little snot-nosed brat better enjoy the rest of his very short time in Ponyville, because when you're done with him, he'll be closer to Earth than Equestria.
>All you can do is quietly stew as the seconds tick by, judgement day growing ever closer.
>It doesn't take long before you hear a set of hooves come to a stop near you.
>Thankfully you still can't see her. You know the jig is up, but you're staying down here to the bitter end.
>"Hello Rarity!"
>Traitor. You should tickle his foot as punishment.
>"Spike, how good to see you! Enjoying yourself a snack, I see."
>"Yup!"
>He doesn't deserve that muffin.
>"Well, whenever you see fit, I would be awfully grateful if you peered underneath the table and tell Anonymous I'm here."
>...
>Once again, Spike glances down to you. There's no trace of smugness or humor, just a simple cheerful smile.
>"Rarity said--"
>You cut him off, delivering a dry look chock full of sodium.
"I heard."
>It's show time.
>With a little fussing, you extract yourself from your hidey-hole, ignoring the nearby pegasi couple blatantly staring at you.
>Still facing away from your source of nightmares, you proceed to stretch, exaggerating each movement with appropriate noises.
"/Ohhhhh/ yeah, that's the stuff... /Ahhhh/ that feels good... Just like that..."
>Once you're certain you've properly warmed up, you reluctantly turn around.
>Spike is giving you one hell of a 'seriously?' expression, but you pay little mind to him.
>The fashionista standing across the table is wearing a pleasant smile, as though she didn't just rudely oust a human from his bunker.
>"Good afternoon, Anonymous."
>It's been less than five seconds and you already want to run away.
>You respond with your best smile, which comes out as more of a dying grimace.
>Spike glares at you but Rarity doesn't mind.
>"I will say, I'm not quite sure why you'd take to sitting under a table on such a beautiful day."
"You know me; I love a good spot of shade. Figured I'd eat a few muffins and see how it feels to be as tall as Spike."
>At this point you're fully focused on Rarity, refusing to acknowledge the purple dragon.
>He had that coming.
>Rarity nods, still all smiles. Her gaze drifts down to the bag still secured in your hand.
>"A little unusual, but who am I to question your comforts?... Although I could've sworn you were standing up when I called out. In fact, I daresay it looked like you were preparing to walk /away/ from Spikey."
>She's less subtle now, but you'll entertain this exchange for a few more minutes.
>Also holy /crap/ what a terrible nickname.
"Spur of the moment, y'know? When I think of something, I don't fret over it. I just /do it/. The apple tree can wait."
>Dammit, there goes one of your hiding spots.
>Rarity's eyes twinkle at the new information but before she can respond, Spike jumps in, wailing out in frustration.
>"For crying out LOUD, Anon, stop beating around the bush!"
>Alright, you've had enough. First the betrayal...
>Oh wait, Rarity already knew.
>Nuts to that, you've still had enough.
>You eye the short dragon in disapproval.
"Do you even KNOW what we're arguing about!?"
>"Yeah! It's..."
>His voice dies down as the realization hits. Soon he's staring off into space, brow furrowed in thought.
>It was a rhetorical question, but you're irked all the same by his silent admittance.
"That's what I thought."
>Rarity is less than pleased with your sharp diction, her smile vanishing on the wind.
>"Now now, Anonymous. There's no reason to take your frustration out on poor Spikey. Just like me, I'm sure he has your best interests at heart."
>You spare a bewildered glance at Spike, then back to her, scoffing at the absurd remark.
"Yeah, /best interests/. Real funny. I bet if he knew what you were up to, he'd support me."
>That's Spike's cue to interject.
>"Soooo, can somepony /please/ tell me what's going on?"
>"Why certainly!"
>Rarity seats herself on a nearby stool, forelegs crossed on the tabletop as befitting a proper lady.
>Recognizing you're not going anywhere anytime soon, you follow suit. After a brief internal debate, out comes your backup muffin.
>In case of emergency, eat muffin.
>"As you know, Spike, the--"
"Wait just a cotton-pickin' minute."
>Your hand is occupied by baked goods, so you point the muffin at Rarity.
"Let /me/ tell him. He needs to know the truth from an /unbiased/ source."
>Your impeccable idea is met by a deadpan mare and a further-confused dragon.
>"/Neither/ of us are without bias, darling. However, I can offer a... /less-opinionated/ rundown."
>She finishes that up with a bat of her eyelashes and a smile that would melt any male's heart.
>You know better. Underneath that façade is an evil unicorn hell-bent on torturing you.
"No you can't."
>You ignore the drastic change in her mood, instead focusing on Spike.
"Listen kid, it's very simple--"
>"...I think it would be better if Rarity explained."
>He alternates brief glances between the pair of you.
>You're seconds away from face-palming until you remember the pastry in your hand.
>Dumb childhood crushes. She's got him hook, line and sinker.
"Rarity can offer her input after I'm done. Like I said, it's very simple. You know the upcoming Gala?"
>A nod.
"I don't want to go, but Rarity thinks I should. That's it! THAT IS LITERALLY IT."
>You glare at the light-grey unicorn perched opposite you.
"Am I wrong?"
>Rarity idly inspects a hoof.
>"Well, it's a bit more complicated than you put it, but a nice, concise summary overall."
"There's nothing complicated about it! If I don't want to go, I /don't want to go/! End of story!"
>"Why not?"
>It's not Rarity, but Spike who pipes up.
"Why what?"
>"Why don't you want to go? It's the Gala, one of the biggest events of the year!"
>You swear Rarity's smugness knows no bounds.
"/Because/, spending an entire evening mucking about with the Canterlot Elite doesn't sound all that appealing to me."
>With that, you begin snacking on your treat, near-instantly regretting it as Rarity begins to speak.
>No chance to cut her off.
>"Anonymous, you're really going about this the wrong way."
>You roll your eyes as Spike butts in.
>"I think you should give it a go. It's only once a year and who knows, maybe you'll end up loving it!"
>Rarity nods, her styled mane bobbing with her.
>You gaze sadly at a rouge blueberry threatening to fall out of your muffin.
>Of course he would side with her. The things people do for love...
"And /maybe/ I'll end up hating it! Let's face it, the smart money's on the latter."
>You take another bite.
>There's a pregnant pause that follows, Spike deep in thought with a claw pressed against his chin.
>Rarity is observing you, mood unknown.
>Finally, the purple dragon leans towards her, claws cupped in a poor attempt to prevent you from hearing his whispers.
>"Does he know about the free buffet?"
"Yesh."
>A few crumbs escape, sprinkling on the table.
>Don't talk when your mouth is full, Anon. Manners one-oh-one.
>The duo turn to you as you rectify your mistake, sweeping the table clean.
"Free food isn't enough to lure me. Not to mention I don't wanna be /that guy/ constantly hovering near the punch bowl because his date bailed."
>"Huh?"
>You ignore their confusion, choosing to direct your attention to Spike.
"Spike, why have you joined forces with the enemy?"
>Rarity glares at you, finally breaking her mask.
"I thought you'd understand--"
>"'The enemy'?!"
"--My struggle, not /start trying to convince me as well/."
>Spike fiddles with his claws, now recognizing the precarious spot he's gotten himself into.
>You trusted him, and he betrayed you.
>Looks like /someone/ won't be saved from Twilight's next impromptu book sorting session!
>"...I get what you're saying, Anon. I just don't want one of my friends to miss out on a great event."
>Despite your current mood, you understand his logic.
>Before you can respond, however, Rarity interjects.
>"Wonderfully put, dear! Friends encourage each other to occasionally step out of their comfort zone!"
>Once again your muffin is used as a pointer.
"Friends /also/ understand when their other friend ain't budging, and respect their decision."
>You almost follow that up with "some friend you are", but decide better.
>That probably wouldn't end well, joking or not.
>At this point, Spike is beginning to look disheartened at your unyielding form.
>"So you're not going?"
>You shake your head.
"Sorry kid. I'd be bored out of my mind."
>Spike hangs his head in dejection, leaving you to deal with your final obstacle.
>Really, this should've been your /only/ obstacle.
>"Once again, /Anonymous/, I do think you're going about this the wrong way."
>You pry yourself from your nearly-finished treat.
"If /he/ couldn't do it, /you/ sure as heck can't."
>Your remark falls on deaf ears, the mare continuing to speak.
>"Instead of focusing on the downsides, try thinking about the /positives/. For example..."
>Her face scrunches in thought, a hoof lightly tapping the table.
>"I bet Princess Celestia and Princess Luna would be elated to see how Equestria's resident human is doing!"
>You stuff the remains of the muffin in your mouth, holding a finger up to prevent any further discussion.
>Sleep well, sweet muffin. You will be missed.
>Once you're finished, you respond.
"The princesses and I aren't /tight/. We don't converse like giddy schoolgirls into the wee hours of the morning."
>Up goes a hand, thumb and pinkie extended to form a crude phone which you speak into.
"Yo, Sunbutt! /What's goin' on/?!"
>Your faux-animated expression covers up your snicker as Rarity adopts a shocked expression, quietly mouthing "sunbutt" to herself.
>Spike, on the other hand, giggles a little, rising out of his funk.
"Same ol', same ol'. Hey, tell that cute assistant of yours--"
>"Okay, you've made your point."
>Your other hand goes to cover your 'phone' as you mock-scowl at the rude unicorn.
"/Excuse me/, I am on the phone."
>"What's a 'fone'?"
>You pay no mind to her, continuing your call.
"Sorry about that, Rarity was being a /very/ rude filly... I know, manners, right? Hey, speaking of, that same filly thinks me, you, and Moonbutt are best buddies! What is she /thinking/?..."
>A short pause, then your mood drops, voice lowering in turn.
"Oh? Luna actually... with /me/?... Wow, I had no idea. That's pretty--"
>Finally, Rarity's had enough, her voice raised in exasperation.
>"/You've made your point, Anonymous/!"
>The theatrics come to a halt, your hand lowering to rest on the table.
>The short dragon near you is working the rest of his laughter out of his system, while the mare across from you is the polar opposite.
"Attending a however-long Gala for a thirty-second meeting with the princesses isn't worth it."
>"Three hours."
"Three hours too long."
>Rarity lets out a heavy sigh, sinking a little as she gazes at you.
>"You wouldn't attend, even to accompany your friends?"
>Nice try, lady, but you still haven't fully accepted the power of friendship.
>Sounds gay.
"Normally yeah, but... I'm really not feeling this. If I were, I would've said 'yes' ages ago just to get you to /stop/."
>There's the final nail in the coffin.
>You feel a slight pang of guilt as Rarity wilts, ears lowering in recognition of her failure.
>She'll get over it, probably. You're confident you wouldn't enjoy the Gala.
>...
>"Maybe we'll get a repeat of last year."
>Say what now?
>Your attention is redirected to Spike who, unlike Rarity, still somehow carries a glimmer of hope.
"Huh?"
>"When we went last year, the /entire/ event was interrupted by a stampede of animals. The whole place was trashed."
>Now you're interested, an eyebrow raising in curiosity.
"How did that happen?"
>The purple dragon perks up, adjusting his slumped form to better address you.
>"A pony scared them. You'll never guess who."
>He's right, you don't want to.
"Who?"
>"Fluttershy! She was so frustrated when they ignored her, she got /really/ mad!"
>At that, you scoff.
"No way."
>"I'm serious! Ask Rarity!"
>You direct a glance over to the silent fashionista, who nods. Her expression indicates she isn't entirely sure where Spike is going with this.
>You can't help but crack a grin.
>/Fluttershy/, of all ponies, scared the crap out of a bunch of critters so hard they ruined the Gala?
>Guess it's the timid ones you have to keep an eye on.
"Aw man, that sounds /awesome/. Wish I was there to see that."
>"Yeah, almost everypony had some sort of trouble at the Gala. Twilight with Princess Celestia, Rainbow Dash with the Wonderbolts, Rarity with... uh..."
>His voice trails off as Rarity delivers a smoldering glare, wordlessly daring him to continue.
>If he weren't fireproof, he'd probably burst into flames.
>Spike lightly clears his throat, turning back to you with slightly less enthusiasm.
>"There were some issues."
>You're biting your lip now to keep from cracking up.
"That sounds... interesting."
>Why didn't Spike mention this before?
>All of those sound terrible to experience, but wonderful to watch unfold.
>...You're a terrible person.
>So terrible, you're actually beginning to reconsider your adamant refusal to attend.
>On one hand, a lame event that you very much have no interest in.
>On the other hand, the chance to see some live-action footage of your favorite pastel ponies crashing and burning.
>Sometimes you have to push through the bad to reach the good, right?
>...
>Wow Anon, are you really gonna go /just/ for the possibly of another train wreck?
>...
>Yes, yes you are.
>You purse your lips, still somewhat hesitant on your decision.
>Spike has ceased all talking, staring at you with baited breath.
>Rarity is doing the same, but with a more bewildered look. She looks like she's thinking about something.
>...Ah what the heck, you'll do it.
".../Maybe/ I should go."
>"YES!"
>Spike practically jumps out his seat, pumping a fist in triumph as a few background ponies turn to observe the commotion.
>At the /exact same second/, Rarity puts two and two together.
>"/THAT'S/ what convinced you?!"
>'Disbelief' doesn't even begin to describe her expression.
>You shrug, taking a short moment to lazily wave at onlookers.
"What can I say. Kid has a way with words."
>Said kid is in the process of doing a little dance on his stool, still wrapped up in his success.
>"It's... You... One..."
>The white mare struggles to come up with a suitable reply, eventually giving up in favor of a much-needed facepalm... or facehoof.
>"Very well. I suppose beggars can't be choosers."
>Her hoof is dragged down to her cheek, foreleg propped up to support her lazy stance.
>You must've really gotten to her if she's sitting so casually.
>Spike wraps up his celebration, sitting back down as he speaks with renewed fervor.
>"This is gonna be awesome!"
>You have no idea how simply having you in attendance will make it "awesome", but if he says so...
>You glance at Rarity, who's taken to staring at you with a very disinterested look.
>You can feel the disapproval from here.
>Suddenly her face lights up, going from dreary to wonderment so fast you instinctively shy back just a bit.
>In an instant she's returned to sitting up straight, eyes still trained on you.
>Now you're suspicious.
>"Anonymous, I'm glad you've changed your mind about the Gala!"
>You don't like that sickeningly-sweet tone of hers. She's trying to butter you up for something, you just know it.
>"Of course, now that you've confirmed your attendance, we can get straight into preparations!"
"What preparation? I don't need anything."
>Rarity laughs at your naivety, her melodic voice carrying far away from the table.
>That isn't helping...
>"I hope you don't plan on attending in... /that/ attire."
>A hoof points at your getup, which you look down at with a frown.
>She better not be dissing your outfit. An unlikely situation, considering she /made/ the damn thing, but still.
>You lightly trace a line down your shirt, mumbling to yourself.
"Oh, right. I need something a little more blue blood, eh?"
>Damn...
>...
>......
"NO!"
>Your unexpected outburst causes Spike to jump in fear, toppling over his stool and onto the ground.
>Rarity, on the other hand, continues to smile sweetly at you despite the wide-eyed look of terror you've got.
>There's ponies glancing over to your table– again– but you don't care.
"NOT HAPPENING. NOPE. EHN. OH. NADA."
>You look down at the petrified dragon, who's clutching his poor heart in shock.
"Sorry buddy. You can blame Rarity for this!"
>"Oh don't be a drama queen, Anonymous. How else will you find a lavish outfit for the Gala?"
>You stare daggers at her.
"First of all, I'm a /dude/. I don't do 'lavish'. Secondly, I have no freakin' idea but I'll figure it out!"
>Your evil unicorn buddy shakes her head.
>"Nonsense. I accommodate /all/ of my friends, and /you/ won't be an exception."
"Like heck I will. I've seen /pincushions/ receive better treatment than me!"
>Rarity remains calm, sporting the same dastardly smile you've come to know and not love.
>Pure, unfiltered evil.
>"Oh /posh/, you and your eccentric exaggerations. Besides, I already have your measurements. There won't be any poking or prodding, as you so commonly say."
>Your eyes narrow, searching for any possible break in her perfect form.
>She better not be lying...
"You better not..."
>You quietly mull over the most likely scenarios that'll occur if you visit her at her boutique.
>All of them sound woefully boring. What a drag.
>You eye your empty bag as Spike clamors back onto his stool, taking a second to stare vacantly into space before refocusing on Rarity.
"I'll entertain your asinine request if you do something for me."
>There's a lot of directions Rarity can take this.
>She can agree, she can disagree, heck, she can even hold you hostage in an unbreakable force field of magic until you cry uncle.
>Fortunately, the mare keeps it simple.
>"If it's within reason, then certainly! What would you like?"
>No apprehension from her? She's really determined to get on your good side.
>Perfect.
>You grab your bag, waving it so the crumbs noisily shift around.
"I want another muffin."
-----
 
 
>Decisions, decisions...
>Clean up your mess now, or later?
>You stare at the bowl secured in your hand, only a few dregs of milk remaining after breakfast.
>Eh, this is a job for future you.
>Down goes the dish, spoon clattering against the sink as you rinse everything off. Once that's finished, you grab the off-brand cereal box residing on the counter, placing it back in the cupboard.
>You're in no rush. There's still a good hour left on the clock.
>...Still, best not to dawdle.
>You proceed to the front door, putting on your shoes before checking one last time for anything you might be forgetting.
>...Not that there's much to bring, aside from bits.
>Alright, let's get the hell on outta here!
>With a little more pep in your step, you unlock and open the door, taking in the beautiful scenery of Pony--
>To your surprise, one white mare stands directly outside your entrance, looking up at you with a pleasant smile.
>...
>The door closes with a thud.
>Now alone, you bring both hands up in despair, screaming internally.
>/What the fuuuuu--/
>Loud knocking brings you back from hell, reminding you of the very-real problem you have waiting outside.
>Damn it. She knows you're here, better get it over with.
>Reluctantly, you reopen the door.
>Any trace of pleasantry has long disappeared from the peeved unicorn, her eyes drilling a hole into yours.
>Oh yeah, she's /pissed/.
"Sorry! It's... force of habit, y'know."
>You're doing a terrible job of hiding your disappointment.
>Rarity closes her eyes, taking in a deep breath before exhaling dramatically.
>Suddenly her eyes shoot open, her expression shifting to a more bright-eyed and bushy-tailed look.
>"Good morning Anonymous! I hope you had a good-night's rest, because we will be /very/ busy today!"
>You're scared now.
>This isn't how you wanted it to end.
>The mare gives you a quick once-over, a shrewd smile forming.
>"How fortunate! Already dressed and ready to depart. /Somepony/ must be excited for today's events! Yes, that must be it since he would /never/ consider trying to hide from Rarity after promising to show up, hmm?"
>You squirm a little, hoping against hope for the ground to swallow you whole.
>She's enjoying this way too much.
"What? /Oh you/, such ludicrous thoughts. Anon's a man of his word."
>You cough lightly into your fist.
"...Mostly."
>"Indeed you are! There's not a second to waste, so if you would..."
>Rarity steps to the side, gesturing for you to exit.
>Think of something, Anon! Anything!
>You scratch the back of your neck, pointing towards your kitchen.
"I uh... I need to eat breakfast. Most important meal of the day, right?"
>You follow it up with a smile that would make Pinkie proud.
>The stalker mare doesn't react a bit, her foreleg remaining suspended in the air.
>"You're absolutely right, Anonymous! That's why I prepared a suitable meal for the both of us! You'll have plenty of energy to get through the day!"
>Your grin dies faster than should be humanly possible, a pathetic whimper escaping your lips.
"Oh."
>Rarity pays no mind to your bemoaning. Instead, a light blue aura surrounds your hand, giving it a tug.
>"No need to thank me, I'm only looking after your best interests! Now come along, we have a long day ahead of us!"
>The tugging on your hand intensifies, signifying her ever-depleting patience.
>You sigh, marking your mental scoreboard with a victory for Rarity.
>Take your loss like a man, Anon.
>You take a heavy step through the doorway, crossing over to the point of no return.
"Gimmie a sec."
>It only takes a few seconds to fish out your keys and lock the door, but you spend the last precious moments gazing longingly at your home.
>You will be missed...
>Satisfied with your compliance, Rarity practically skips ahead and away, forcing you into a light jog.
>It's off to the electric chair!
>While it's no afternoon rush, there's still plenty of ponies up at this hour, a few offering polite waves as you're dragged against your will.
>Speaking of...
"/You're/ up early."
>There's little attempt to hide the accusation in your tone.
>The white mare doesn't look up as she responds, giving a curt nod to the occasional passerby.
>"I'm /always/ awake at this hour, darling. It takes /time/ to work myself into the fashionable mare you know."
"There's still more than an /hour/ before you open for business."
>"Mhmm. I was so eager to start the day, I couldn't wait! Fortunately it appears you had the same idea!"
>At that, she turns her head to view you, batting her eyelashes not-so-innocently.
>It's a cruel world you live in.
>You shake your head, going through various escape plans that probably won't work.
>Things are looking bleaker by the second.
>The rest of the trip goes by uneventfully, although you do make a few desperate glances to ponies in hopes they recognize your plight.
>Soon enough, the pair of you approach the large boutique you've affectionately coined 'The Gallows', much to Rarity's vexation.
>"Here we are!"
>Rarity opens the door with little effort, horn aglow as she steps to the side.
>It doesn't take a genius to figure out what she wants, but you have different plans.
>You gesture towards the doorway with a slight bow.
"Ladies first."
>Rarity titters, a hoof raised to cover her mouth.
>"Such a gentlecolt! While I do appreciate your manners, we're friends! We can forgo formalities just this once."
>You're almost completely dead on the inside, your hands clenching in irritation.
>What did you do to deserve this treatment?
>...
>Oh, right.
>With a dramatic sigh, you drag your feet forward, lurching past Rarity and into the boutique.
>It's like you're a kid at the doctor's office again, only without the hysterical crying.
>The interior is exactly the same as you've come to know, not a blemish to be found anywhere.
>You wish you could afford a place like this.
>While you're going through your ritualistic moping, Rarity walks by. Two sharp clicks alert you to the now-locked door, and you frown.
"I'm not gonna run away. It's a little late for that."
>The sharp unicorn stops, turning to properly face you.
>"The boutique doesn't open until nine."
>Huh, maybe she isn't as sadistic as you thought.
>"Besides, Anonymous..."
>She looks amused.
>"If you were /truly/ opposed to this, you would've simply /left/ instead of conjuring more and more excuses, humorous as they are."
>You sneer, sticking your tongue out childishly.
"The only thing keeping me goin' is a chance to see the proverbial train-wreck."
>Rarity shakes her head, although she's smiling.
>"You're a terrible... human, Anonymous."
"I know."
>Your voice is cheerful.
>The mare turns back around, heading towards the nearby kitchen. Just before she turns the corner, she calls back to you.
>"I presume you won't be needing breakfast?"
>Har-har, very funny.
"The fragrant aroma coursing through here is maddening, but I'll manage."
>You're mentally beating yourself up for buying her fib in the first place. At the time, however, she said it with such confidence you would've never guessed otherwise.
>"Tea? Coffee?"
>Up goes an eyebrow.
"Since when do you carry coffee?"
>Rarity shrugs.
>"While it doesn't fit my tastes, it's always polite to give guests more than one option. You made me realize that."
"You know I was joking about your questionable taste in hot drinks, right? I'm the only weirdo here who doesn't like tea... or coffee."
>"Regardless, everypony should have a choice."
"Ah. Well, I choose neither. Thanks though."
>You give a thumbs-up, still grateful for the consideration.
>Rarity nods in understanding before disappearing behind the corner, her well-groomed tail the last to leave.
>Now by your lonesome, you spend the next minute standing in place before growing impatient and hunting for a place to sit.
>It doesn't take long for you to settle on a couch propped against a wall, swinging one leg over the other as you lean in a position that would make most chiropractors cringe.
>Feels great.
>...
>You're bored.
>Just gotta suck it up until Rarity is done with you. Shouldn't take long, especially since she doesn't have to take measurements.
>The minutes pass by in relative silence, save for Rarity's tinkering in the kitchen. You keep yourself sane by imagining the mannequins coming to life and fighting to the death.
>...You should ask Twilight to try it out sometime.
>Finally the white mare reemerges, a teacup and its saucer held in her magic.
>"Thank you for waiting, Anonymous. I'll do my best to make this as painless as possible."
"Good luck."
>Rarity makes her way over to a lone table void of anything save for a lone piece of paper. After placing the teacup down, she calls to you.
>"Over here."
>Damn, you were just starting to get comfortable.
>In a matter of seconds, you rise from the couch and sit beside Rarity, who's already taken a seat.
>Rarity slides the paper over to you while bringing the teacup up to cool off.
>"Sadly, stallions are far more limited in their apparel, so there's only one design I felt would suit you."
>She titters at her pun.
>"Then again, you're not a stallion."
"That's not what my ex told me."
>"Hmm?"
"Nothing."
>You grab the paper, wiggling it at her.
"I haven't looked yet, but I /swear/, if there's anything that even /vaguely/ resembles a dress, I walk."
>Rarity rolls her eyes, bringing both forelegs up to rest on the table.
>"Did you miss the part where I explained there's only /one/ design?"
"Hey, I can't take any chances with you! For all I know that 'one design' is a frilly dress with all the works."
>"Just look at the sketches, Anonymous."
"Can do!"
>You flip the paper over to the other side, revealing various sets of colored drawings no doubt done by her.
>True to her word, they all carry the same basic outline: A simple three-piece suit.
>Thank goodness. You were expecting something...
>...
>What in the unholy hell are you looking at.
>Your mouth opens more and more in horror as you take in each doodle.
>She can't be serious. She can't POSSIBLY be serious about these.
"Rarity."
>The mare finishes taking a sip of tea, keeping the cup raised.
>"Yes?"
>You face the drawings towards her, using your other hand to point aimlessly at the now-unseen sketches as you put on your best 'what the heck?!' expression.
>Rarity's eyes move back and forth, scanning the paper for any missed blunders.
>Unsurprisingly, she finds none, bringing the cup back up for another sip.
>"Is there something in particular you have questions about?"
"Yeah! Did Rainbow Dash throw up on this?!"
>The fashionista nearly spits out her tea, instead choking it down before loudly coughing.
>Ever the gentleman, you reach over and thump her back a few times.
>You're helping!
>Eventually the hacking recedes, allowing her to place the cup down and wipe the moisture from her eyes.
"You good?"
>That heart-piercing glare suggests otherwise. She's practically fuming.
>"If you're going to express distaste over my designs, the /least/ you could do is have some tact!"
>Aw crap, looks like you took it too far.
>Admittedly, insulting someone's pride and joy– jokingly or not– almost never ends well.
>Time to reel it back in.
"It was a joke! Y'know, 'cuz Rainbow Dash is colorful and these are too!"
>She's still glaring at you.
"...Look, I'm sorry, okay? That was in bad taste."
>You put the paper down, no longer daring to make eye contact with her.
>...Suddenly the joke isn't very funny.
>You resume browsing the various mockups with rapt interest, observing them in a new light.
>The silence is deafening.
"...These are all great, you know that? It's just, the colors don't fit me. At least, that's what I think. /You're/ the fashion expert, you tell me."
>More silence.
>You're starting to consider leaving when a small voice pipes up.
>"There's little point in wearing an outfit that doesn't speak to you. I'm sure we can find a suitable color that appeals to your taste."
>Chancing a glance towards her, you're relieved to see Rarity no longer steaming.
>She appears to have calmed down, wearing a more professional look.
>All business now. You understand.
>You point towards two sketches, alternating between the pair.
"The others are a little too bright, but you can never go wrong with dark-blue or black... Well, actually the Gala isn't a funeral so let's ditch the black."
>Rarity eyes your final choice, sliding the paper towards her with a hoof.
>"Hardly surprising. You've always been attracted to the more subdued colors."
"Are you calling me dull?"
>A short bark of laughter escapes before she reels it in, clearing her throat.
>"Absolutely not. Everypony has their likes and dislikes."
>The mare looks at you, tapping the paper while maintaining eye contact.
>"Are you /certain/ this is the color you want? You can't change your mind halfway through."
>You form an 'okay' sign with your hand.
"It's perfect."
>Rarity nods, pushing the paper so it sits away from both of you. She allows herself a faint smile, though it looks like it's more for her than you.
>"Wonderful."
>Wonderful indeed.
>The unicorn continues staring at you, each passing second only raising your discomfort.
>She's undoubtedly less than thrilled with you. Best to leave her alone.
"So--"
>"Your little quip was amusing."
>Oh?
>You purse your lips, doubtful of her words.
"Not to you."
>Rarity closes her eyes, frowning a little.
>"...Perhaps I overreacted just a /teensy/ bit. Once I got past the initial outrage, I could see the humor behind your words."
>She sighs, opening her eyes to look at you again.
>"...Just remember; there's a time and place for everything, Anonymous. Everypony is different."
>...
>No arguing against that. Lesson learned... hopefully.
"Right. I'll be more considerate next time."
>Even more silence follows, but the tension is gone. Now it's the usual awkward moment where neither party knows what to do. Or at least, /you/ don't know.
>You're the first to break the ice.
"Sooo uh... I'm free?"
>As far as you know, this should be the only thing planned for today unless she already magically whipped up the suit in a matter of minutes.
>Rarity nods, filling you with elation.
>"Yes, you're free to go."
>Oh, what joyous news!
>You slide the chair back, making to sta--
>"Or rather, you /would/ be if we were finished."
>Saywhatnow.
>Rarity takes your confused silence and hunched form as grounds to continue.
>"While partaking in a bit of spring cleaning, I appear to have misplaced a few important notes. Silly me."
>She bring up her teacup, draining the rest of the liquid.
>...
>"Mmmm, exquisite."
>......
"You lied to me."
>"Nonsense, darling. Rest assured, I had no intention of deceiving you. I only discovered my mistake long after our little discussion."
"You /lied/ to me."
>Your voice is raising.
>"No I did not."
"Ya /sure/? 'Cuz I distinctly recall you saying there would be, and I quote, 'No poking or prodding'!"
>Rarity sets down her teacup, pushing it away.
>"And was I wrong? You /do/ have a tendency to exaggerate your experiences."
"You know what I mean!"
>Wait a second...
>You hold up a finger as a new revelation strikes.
"...This is about that joke. You're trying to pull a fast one over me because of it!... Rarity, people make /mistakes/. I'll atone for my sins another way, I /promise/. Uhhh... Oh! When's the last time you visited the spa? Next session's on m--"
>The white mare interrupts your desperate pleading with a raised hoof.
>"I no longer hold any animosity towards you, Anonymous."
>You scoff.
"That smug look says otherwise."
>Rarity blinks, hastily trying to reform her growing smirk into something less obvious.
>"I /promise/ you, there are no ulterior motives. Think of it as... /unfortunate timing/."
"And yer just /lovin'/ this, aren't ya?"
>Rarity gasps, bringing a hoof to her chest in indignation.
>You'd buy it more without the poorly concealed grin.
>"Why I would /never/ take satisfaction from anypony's grief."
>Ouch, the two-for-one special.
>Lowering your head, you rise from your chair, greatly exaggerating a sigh of reluctant acceptance.
"/Fine/. Put me out of my misery. You'll be doing me a favor."
>Up goes an arm, lazily held perpendicular to yourself.
>Think pleasant thoughts, Anon. That'll help.
>The unicorn produces a line of measuring tape from seemingly nowhere, floating it over to you.
>Your eyes cross as it invades your personal space, lightly tapping your nose.
>Ugh.
>There's a small chuckle from Rarity, then she speaks.
>"Same as before, dear. Unless you need a refresher?"
>No, you do not need a refresher. What you DO need is a drink.
>Another dramatic sigh, followed by a quick look around the large room.
"I need privacy."
>Rarity rolls her eyes.
>"I'll never understand your insistence on concealing yourself /while/ undressing. One would think reservations would be made towards the result rather than the process."
"I'm not doing a free strip tease for you again. You have to pay just like anyone else."
>The mare's dead-pan expression is so unexpected you almost laugh, the faintest of giggles escaping you.
"Alright, alright. Gimmie a few."
>Your shoes and shirt are the first to go, exposing your upper body as you toss the fabric over the backrest of your chair.
>Now for the main course.
>As you unbuckle your belt you check on Rarity.
>She's idly twirling the measuring tape, paying no mind to you.
"Y'know, it's perfectly natural to look."
>The fashionista refocuses on you just in time to catch you dropping your pants.
"/Ogling/ is when it gets desperate."
>Ever the perfect lady, Rarity keeps her eyes dead set on your face, a shrewd smile forming.
>"I take my words back. You /are/ a stallion."
>Unf.
>"Every bit as dirty-minded as them."
"Oh."
>You expertly kick your pants up, grabbing them to join with your shirt.
"That's not something either of us didn't already know, but I'll take the compliment!"
>Now you're standing in the middle of Rarity's surprisingly cool boutique wearing nothing but your socks and briefs.
"Hey, you're no saint yourself."
>You gesture to your bare self.
"C'mon, wanting me to get undressed? Being opposed to basic privacy? If I didn't know any better– and I don't– I'd say you were coming on to me."
>To her credit, the white unicorn doesn't bat an eyelid at your accusation, continuing to maintain an image of superiority.
>"Anonymous, there are /far/ classier methods of catching a stallion's interest than holding them hostage and demanding they strip bare."
>Suddenly she adopts a more sultry tone, eyes half-lidded as she drapes the measuring tape around her neck.
>"Besides, if I were 'coming on to you'... Believe me, you /would/ know."
>...
>Any other male probably would've creamed themselves by now, but you're far more interested in her blatant admittance of holding you prisoner.
>You knew it!
"Don't get any ideas, missy. I'm saving myself for a /very special/ someone."
>"Why do I find that difficult to believe?"
"Trust me; beneath this rough, stone-cold exterior, I'm a romantic at heart."
>Rarity performs another eye roll, but she's smiling.
>"Now I've heard everything."
>You poorly suppress another laugh, almost choking on nothing.
>When you've recovered, the measuring tape has returned to floating aside you.
>"Let's not squander anymore time, as I know you're eager to depart."
>Once again you raise your arm, only this time you keep it straight so she can work better.
"I'm surprised you didn't beg for the boxers to come off."
>Her expression remains unchanged despite your lewd remark.
>See, this is why you like her. She can take--
"AHH!"
>Your hand flies up, soundly smacking your ear in an attempt to dispel an unknown rouge intruder.
>Your efforts are in vain, however, as it leaves as quickly as it came.
>You glower at the smirking mare, who keeps the measuring tape well out of arm's reach.
>Cheeky little...
>"Shall we get started?"
"Yeah..."
>You watch the tape like a hawk as it approaches, but the shenanigans have stopped... for now.
>You remain perfectly still as the tape moves around, barely stopping for a second before flying off to another place.
>Your mouth, however, has different plans.
"Ow. Cold! Ow. That tickles! HOT."
>"/Nothing is touching you/, Anonymous."
"Your sparkly magic stuff grazes over my skin sometimes, and you KNOW I'm a sensitive man."
>The tape returns to Rarity, signaling the end of her torture.
>She's got a dry look going right now.
>"Do you have an interest in theater?"
>You bring a hand up to stroke your chin.
"Hmmm... I've given it thought."
>"Something tells me you'd be perfect for it."
"So I've been told."
>Rarity loops the measuring tape around her, letting it dangle loosely from her neck.
>"Sadly for you, you'll have to save the theatrics for another day. You're the only pony... /human/ I know who could turn a thirty second measuring into an overblown ordeal."
>You grab your pants off the chair and begin redressing.
"Yeah, and you love me for it."
>Rarity scratches a foreleg, clearly figuring out a way to gently crush your dreams.
>"...I'm not sure 'love' is the appropriate term... Nor can I say 'admiration'. A good way to describe it... 'Respect!'"
>Nice.
"Noice."
>Next comes your shoes.
>...
>Oh! You just remembered!
>You sit down so you can keep a better eye on the unicorn as you tie your shoelaces.
"Hey, you know how I have nicknames for the rest of the posse?"
>"'Posse'... are you referring to the rest of our friends?"
"Yeah. Because today went so well, I think it's time you got your own!"
>Rarity balks, beginning to speak before catching herself. After a moment, she resumes.
>"...I'm flattered, really, but there's no need. You've already given me more than enough by agreeing to attend the Gala."
"Nonsense!"
>One shoe down.
"Let's see... There's Purple Smart, Blue Fast, Yellow Quiet... I tried calling Apples 'Oranges' but she wasn't exactly thrilled."
>"I can't imagine why."
>Rarity's voice is drier than the Sahara.
"Me neither... Right, Pink Party Pony. Not my choice, she insisted I call her that. So uh, yeah, that only leaves you!"
>And there's the other shoe. Only thing left is your shirt.
>The mare before you is apprehensive, although she hides it well.
>"I see... Do tell, what moniker did you whip up for me?"
"As you might've noticed, there's a recurring theme in each nickname. So, I gave it a lot of thought and /finally/ picked the perfect name."
>You know for a fact she's cringing internally.
"Marshmallow!"
>Rarity's façade drops in a heartbeat, the fashionista dumbfounded at her new namesake.
>You've never seen her this exasperated before.
>"/MARSHMALLOW/?!"
>Sounds a little irked too.
>Her current mood does little to put a damper in your spirits, your face maintaining a steady cheesy smile.
"Yeah! Y'know, 'cuz your coat is white and you're sweet! Just like a marshmallow!"
>Aaaaand freeze!
>You take satisfaction in seeing Rarity lock up, gears whirring in her head as she processes your misconstrued words.
>Now's a good time to put on your shirt.
>In the time it takes you to fully dress, Rarity's gotten around to closing her mouth, brow furrowed in concentration.
>You have no idea what she's thinking about.
>Eventually she closes her eyes, taking in a deep breath before loudly exhaling.
>"Promise me, Anonymous."
>Her eyes remain shut, tone back to its usual normalcy, albeit with a hint of strain.
"What?"
>"Promise me, if you /ever/ decide to pursue a marefriend, you will IMMEDIATELY contact me before taking any further action."
>Now she opens her eyes, and you can see the twinkle in them.
>"Your heart is in the right place, but there's a /lot/ you need to brush up on if you plan on wooing a member of the opposite sex."
>Did she just...
>She just did, didn't she?
>She did.
>Your eyes narrow as you point to yourself, raising an eyebrow.
"Are you saying I don't have game?! I think you're saying I don't have game."
>"Of course not, darling. I'm sure there are a plethora of mares already smitten by your charms."
"Yer darn tootin'"
>"I'm merely offering the chance to widen your options."
>Your eyes narrow even more until they're more closed than open. You hear a small huff of air escape Rarity.
"Weeeell, I'm not one to turn away a helping hand... or in this case, hoof."
>Your eyelids flutter open.
"Alright Rarity. If I ever get the hots for a mare, you'll be the first to know."
>Up goes your hand, resting directly atop your heart.
"I promise."
>Rarity smiles, only with a significant lack of smug or evil surrounding it.
>Weird.
>"Wonderful."
>...
>......
"So am I free to go?"
>"Yes."
>You allow yourself a celebratory fist-pump, rising to your feet with a small hop.
>...Oh what the heck, she deserves it.
>You glance back down to the short mare.
"I want you to know, this wasn't that bad. Surprisingly little excruciating pain, and aside from that brief moment of burning hatred towards me--"
>Rarity's smile withers just a bit.
"--It was nice."
>"This is the closest you'll get to admitting you overreact, isn't it?
"Absolutely."
>"Well, I'll take what I can get. I'm glad you liked it, Anonymous! Enjoy the rest of your day."
"I will, and you too."
>You whip out a sweet twin pair of finger pistols, firing at Rarity in farewell before turning around to leave.
>The day's still young, isn't it? Can't even be half past eight.
>Oooh, Twilight is definitely up, right? You should stop by and ask her about animating those manneq--
>"Oh, and Anonymous..."
>You look back towards Rarity, who's still wearing a pleasant smile, although it looks slightly more forced.
>"Please don't call me Marshmallow."
-----
 
 
>A small bell chime flows through the air as you open the door to the boutique, quickly stepping inside.
>...Huh. There's a significant lack of fashionable mares anywhere to be seen.
>You make your way deeper into the lavish lair, stopping near a set of mannequins adorned with the latest of Rarity's work.
>You offer them a passing glance at most as you call out to the missing unicorn.
"Rarity, I'm here! I came of my own free volition, aren't you proud of me?"
>From running away in hysterics at the mere sight of the boutique to willingly entering on your own.
>Truly, you've grown.
>Your proud declaration is met with silence, only to be broken by a grunt from yourself.
>Where the hell /is/ she? Upstairs perhaps? Even so, there's no way she would've missed the door opening, or your yelling.
>Maybe she stepped out for a few minutes?
>Before you can conjure up any more possibilities, muffled footsteps reverberate from the ceiling, making you look up.
>Ah-ha!
"RARITY! I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR ALMOST A MINUTE! DON'T MAKE ME COme... up..."
>Your yelling peters out as you stare at the nearby mannequins that have just been enveloped in a familiar light-blue aura.
>You didn't know unicorns could do that to unseen objects. That's downright overpowered.
>With minimal difficulty, three dresses are extracted from their silent models, hovering ominously in the air as you watch with rapt interest.
>What's she gonna do with--
"Gah!"
>You barely have time to throw yourself backwards, stumbling as the dresses zoom past you, a piece of lace skimming your hand.
>The trio come to a stop near an open bag set on the floor before being neatly deposited one by one.
>Geez, that was a close one.
>"Anonymous!"
>Your attention is directed to a staircase, where the mare of honor is rapidly descending.
>Took long enough.
"Your dresses almost killed me!"
>Rarity reaches the floor, breaking into a fast trot towards a table adorned with various bits and pieces of materials you take little interest in.
>"I'm terribly sorry."
>She doesn't sound sorry. In fact, she's paying no mind to you, frantically sifting through the mess in search of something.
>"Did you know esteemed fashion designer and avid photographer Sharp Lens is visiting Ponyville today?"
>...
"Who?"
>"/I/ didn't. That's why I've been forced to put together a last-minute ensemble of designs that'll be /sure/ to 'wow' him, and guarantee a spot in 'Trendsetters Weekly'!"
>...
"/Who/?"
>A piece of paper soars from the table, joining the dresses inside the bag.
>With her search completed, Rarity hurries over to the bag, peering inside to check for any possible blemishes.
>It's like you don't exist.
>Rude.
>...Wait just a minute.
>She's packing things into a bag.
"Hold up; you're /leaving/?... Ignoring the fact that I /still don't know who you're talking about/, wouldn't it make more sense to bring 'em here? Beats lugging that stuff around."
>The white mare finally looks up to you as though you've grown three heads.
>"Sharp Lens is a /very/ busy pony, Anonymous. That he even had time to stop in Ponyville is a once-in-a-lifetime event, and I will NOT squander the opportunity."
>Sounds like gross over-exaggeration, but what do /you/ know about fashion.
>Instead, you give a curt nod in understanding.
"Well, have fun, break a leg, yada-yada."
>Rarity smiles just a little.
>"Thank you for the kind words."
>Her horn ignites in a luminous aura, the dress-filled bag floating up alongside her as she trots over to the door.
>"I'll be back later."
>...
"WOAHWOAHWOAH, didn't you have something planned for us today?!"
>How can she just up and leave you like this?
>Rarity turns to properly face your disgruntled form.
>"Yes, Anonymous, and I still do. This will not take up the entire afternoon."
"...So you want me to sit here and do nothing until you get back?"
>An eye roll.
>"That would be preferable."
"Why?! I'm a busy man, you know. I could be in an apple tree /right now/!"
>Rarity lets out an exasperated sigh, making a few short glances towards the door.
>"If you wish to leave, I won't stop you."
>...Well then.
>This is probably the first time she's given you a choice... verbally, at least.
>You make a show of tapping your foot in thought, perfectly matching Rarity's own taps of impatience.
"Ehhhh... /Fine/, I'll stay. /Only/ because I kinda like you, Marshmallow."
>A little 'oh!' escapes her, possibly caught off-guard by your willingness to remain in 'The Gallows', but more likely due to your continued usage of her nickname.
>She'll come around, you know it.
>Rarity recovers quickly enough, and responds with a light chuckle.
>"I'll accept any excuse you need."
>Your mouth opens in protest, but fails to find a suitable comeback.
>A fruitless effort, considering she's already half-running out of the boutique.
>No problem, you'll come up with something while you wait. That way when she gets back you'll have a zinger ready to fire.
>Just as Rarity passes through the doorway, she freezes mid-trot, treating you to an amusing pose.
>You swear Equestria is lax on the laws of physics.
>In the blink of an eye, the unicorn whips around, facing you with an urgent expression.
>"Please keep an eye on Sweetie Belle!"
>It takes you a second to recall the name.
"Sweetie... Ohhhh right, your kid."
>...
"SISTER. KID-SISTER."
>Holy crap, you did NOT just say that.
>And such an awful recovery too! C-plus at best.
>Despite the lack of strenuous activity, your heart is racing. You know you screwed up, /big time/.
>"Thank you!"
>What.
>You blink, dumbfounded as Rarity bounds out of the boutique, her curly tail the last to depart as the door magically closes behind her.
>...
>Uhhh, okay.
>A sigh of relief escapes you.
>That could have ended badly.
>Welp, back to the current events: Marshmallow wants you to watch her sister.
>You've never actually had to watch over children, but it sounds simple.
>They do whatever and you make sure nothing terrible happens. How hard can it be?
>Now, where /is/ Sweetie Belle?
>"Rarity?"
>You twirl in place, looking toward the stairwell where a small filly is carefully making her way down.
>Ahh, speak of the devil.
>To your surprise, a second body joins the fray, the white ball of fluff quickly passing Sweetie Belle to reach the bottom in record time.
>You always forget about Opalescence. That cat rarely comes out to play when you're around, for whatever reason.
>Not that you care. For a cat, it has one hell of an attitude.
>The snooty feline pays no mind to you, walking straight past and towards the windowsill, where it hops up to begin sunbathing.
>In the time Opalescence takes to complete her arduous journey, Sweetie Belle finally plants all four hooves on the ground floor, looking around in search of her older sibling.
>Obviously she comes up short, and directs her attention to you.
>Holy-moly, you're Goliath compared to her.
"She left. I'm supposed to keep an eye on you until she gets back."
>The pint-sized unicorn breaks eye-contact, staring longingly at the front door.
>"Oh."
"Yup."
>Time to sit back and do nothing... as well as watch this kid.
>It only takes a few seconds for you to reach the nearby couch, unceremoniously dropping down to sit in an unflattering position.
>Sweetie Belle stops her wistful gazing to look over to you, eyeing the couch.
>After a brief moment, she walks over to join you, hopping up to sit on the other end.
>You spare her a cursory glance before returning to gazing at nothing in particular.
>What feels like an eternity passes by, time losing all meaning in the boutique as you grow more and more restless.
>You've never been good at keeping yourself entertained without /something/ to do.
>How long has it been since Rarity left? Hours? Days?!
>There's a clock hanging on the far wall opposite you, and you can barely make out the minute and hour hand.
>...
>ONLY THREE MINUTES???
>This is how it ends for you.
>You always thought you'd go out in a literal blaze of glory.
>Instead you're gonna literally die of boredom.
>With your last bit of strength, you shift your weary head to the side, eying the filly stuck alongside you in this hell-hole.
>...Well then.
>Sweetie Belle has taken to perfectly mimicking your posture, slumped against the backrest with both forelegs lazily resting next to her. Her hind legs are far too short to reach the edge of the couch, but a hoof twitches every now and then.
>As though sensing a disturbance, the filly slowly turns her head until she's barely facing you.
>You wouldn't be surprised if you're wearing the exact same expression.
>"I'm bored."
>Welcome to the club, kid.
>While you're fully prepared to spend your last precious moments glued to the couch, you have an obligation of sorts to help Sweetie Belle.
>Thing is, you're not savvy with children. Aside from Spike, whom you'd barely consider one, you tend to ignore most of them.
>You have no idea what Sweetie Belle likes and dislikes. Best to keep your suggestions generic.
"You could, uhhh... read? Readin's good for you."
>Your voice is a droll, not exactly the tone needed for encouragement.
>The tiny unicorn frowns, clearly displeased with your idea.
>"I tried. Got bored."
>Oh-kayyy, different idea.
"Mmmmm... Maybe a board game?... Do you /have/ board games?"
>At that, her ears perk up.
>Looks like you might've struck pay-dirt.
>You remain quiet as Sweetie Belle mulls over her options, face scrunched in thought.
>Eventually, however, her face droops, and she slides a little further down on the couch.
>"I don't want to play any board games."
>Damn. You could've keep yourself entertained as well.
>Also geez, this one is picky.
>Feeling a little lost, you rack your brain for another pitiful suggestion.
"Uhhh... Go outside and explore? I'm just tossing things out now."
>A small groan is her response, the filly sliding down even more until she's lying across the couch on her back.
>"No..."
"Try and convince Twilight to use her magic to animate these mannequins so they'll duke it out?"
>"Huh?"
"Joking."
>Kind of.
"So, you're bored but don't want to do anything?"
>Sweetie Belle huffs in indignation, your comment striking a nerve.
>"I do! I just can't think of anything."
>Even with all the great ideas you've thrown her way?
>Ah-ha! You just thought of another one.
"How about we go to Sugar Cube Corner and make your dentist earn his paycheck?"
>The tiny unicorn look at you in confusion for a few seconds before it clicks, after which a giggle escapes her.
>You snort, your dull mood rising a little.
>Honestly didn't expect her to get that.
>"...No thanks."
>Excuse you? Did a small child just decline the chance to get /free/ sweets?!
>There's no redemption for this filly.
>You stare at Sweetie Belle in disbelief.
"Really? No reading, no board games, no mini-adventures, and no /junk food/?!"
>A short shake of her head follows, her mane dragging against the couch.
"Yeah, you don't want to do anything."
>"That's not true!"
>Sweetie Belle rolls over onto her barrel, sitting up to match your height.
>She looks agitated.
"Kid, I know the feeling. Either you find something, /anything/ to do, or you embrace the laziness."
>To further cement your words, you slide further down the couch.
>Now you're mostly on the floor.
>"You sound just like Rarity."
>Pardon?
>Immediately you spring up, seating yourself properly on the couch.
>A finger flies up, jabbing yourself in the chest repeatedly as you speak.
"/I/ sound /nothing/ like your sister."
>After dramatically clearing your throat, you continue, only this time in a horrible falsetto impression of Rarity.
"Rarity speaks in a very controlled, dignified manner befitting her self-perceived status. Rarity uses words such as 'posh' and 'fabulous', both of which do not exist in Anon's vocabulary!"
>You accentuate your performance with extremely effeminate hand-movements, although you're not sure if Sweetie Belle gets it.
>Though judging by her laughter, it's safe to say she got the gist of it.
>"/That's/ not what I meant, silly!"
>Hnnng, that voice crack.
>Sweetie Belle manages to contain her giggles before continuing.
>"Rarity said the same thing too."
>You raise an eyebrow, doing your best to keep a straight face.
"No kiddin'? She also said she speaks like she came straight from Canterlot?"
>"No!"
>Her reply comes out as a half-whine/half-laugh, still tickled by your shtick.
>"Rarity said the same thing about me!... Sort of. She thinks I should find an activity or stop complaining."
>The filly's smile sours as she recalls her older sister's advice.
>Ahh, nothing like sibling love.
>You take a moment to stretch your arms before resting them atop the backrest.
"Loath as I am to admit it, your sister might be on to something."
>Sweetie Belle is giving you one heck of a look, as though you betrayed her.
>"You too?..."
"Hey, Marshmallow and I have our disagreements, but I can admit when she's right."
>A hint of puzzlement crosses her features.
>"Marshmallow?"
"Oh, that's the nickname I use for your sister."
>That elicits a grin from yourself and another small giggle from the tiny unicorn, temporarily dispelling her glumness.
>"That's a funny nickname! Why would you call Rarity that?"
"Because she shares a surprising number of traits with it."
>Sweetie Belle's eyes lose focus, presumably from trying to put together a mental list.
>It doesn't last long, however, and she returns to the present, brow furrowed.
>"I don't get it."
>...She understood your dental joke but doesn't get /this/?
>You'll never understand children.
"Ask her tomorrow."
>That way you'll be clear from the blast zone.
>"Okay!"
>Satisfied with your work, you pry one of your arms off the top of the backrest so you can fully face Sweetie Belle.
"So! I have a feeling you'll come around to /something/ if you try. Pick one, any one! Give it a shot and if you're not feeling it, move on to another until you find the perfect fit."
>Whether it's because of your antics or her own mood shift, Sweetie Belle doesn't brush off your new game plan, her gaze drifting downward in thought.
>You bet she's gonna choose Sugar Cube Corner... At least, you hope she does.
>"Oh!"
>The filly glances up to you.
>"I'm kinda hungry..."
>Awww yeah.
>"...I think I'll make a sandwich."
>Awww dammit.
>Pushing aside your newly-acquired crippling depression, you smile.
"Cool."
>With that, Sweetie Belle stands, hopping off the couch and proceeding to the unseen kitchen.
>You almost make to get up, before you pause.
>Does she /really/ need you watching over her shoulder for something as simple as a sandwich?
>You made plenty of the PB&J variety as an unsupervised kid without any complications. It's just bread and whatever veggies she wants.
>Yeah, she'll be fine.
>Sweetie Belle disappears around the corner, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
>...Your very boring thoughts.
>You can't sit here for goodness knows how long until Rarity gets back. You'll go mad.
>Staring at the static interior isn't doing you any good.
>...What if you stared at the slightly-more-dynamic outside? Ponyville, for all its simplicity, is far more interesting than this.
>You direct your attention to the closest window overlooking Ponyville, where a certain lazy cat still resides, eyes closed in contentment.
>Despite the negligible amount of noise emitted from you, one eye creaks open to peer at you, the other quickly following suit.
>...You swear Opalescence is /glaring/ at you.
>You'll never get used to the expressiveness of animals here.
>Forget that, Anon. Why is she so aggravated in the first place? You didn't do anything wrong!
>Dumb snooty cat.
>This feline wants to get all pissy with you? Two can play at this game.
>You return fire with a scathing glare of your own while crossing your arms.
>Opalescence doesn't flinch in the slightest, her tail flicking every so often.
>The pair of you remain locked in a staring contest for what seems like ages, neither side willing to back down.
>You haven't blinked yet and your eyes are starting to burn, but you're no quitter. You're not gonna let a domesticated feline beat you.
>...Beat you in a staring contest.
>You're having a staring contest with a cat.
>...
>Wicked cool.
>Your sweet revelation is short-lived as your nose twitches, but you remain on target.
>Maybe it's just your imagination, but you might've smelt smoke.
>...Yeah, definitely not your imagination.
>With moderate difficulty, you pry your eyes away from Opalescence.
"We'll continue this... Oh crap."
>You're referring to the steady plume of smoke drifting into the central room from beyond the corner Sweetie Belle disappeared behind.
>...
>SWEETIE BELLE.
>You push off the couch and madly dash towards the kitchen, bouncing off the wall in a poor attempt to turn without stopping.
>Ohcrapohcrapohcrap.
>There's an even bigger stream wafting from ground zero but you don't hesitate to rush inside, immediately coughing as it invades your lungs.
>Holy smokes, you can barely see a thing.
>It's also a /lot/ less warm than you were expecting. Where's the fire?
"SWEETIE BELLE."
>It's not words you hear, but a small child coughing.
>Amidst the fog, you can barely make out a tiny unicorn perched atop a stool, foreleg raised to her mouth.
>There she is!
>You reach Sweetie Belle in record time, swiftly scooping up the filly and carrying her out and back into the main room.
>To your surprise, Opalescence hasn't budged from her spot, gazing at you with a bored expression.
"Move it, kitty! We need to leave!"
>Get these two out first, then you can work on dealing with the fire... assuming it isn't too big.
>"Anon?"
>In her position, Sweetie Belle has to tilt her head backwards until she's looking at you upside-down.
>She's pretty calm, considering the events.
"Hold on, let's get you out of here."
>You reach the door, grabbing the handle and twisting so--
>"There isn't a fire."
>You freeze.
>...
"There isn't?"
>A shake of her head.
"You /sure/?"
>"No... I mean /yes/!"
>Oh thank goodness.
>You like to think your rash actions were justified. Rarity would kill you if anything happened to her little sister.
"...Then... Were you using the stove?"
>Another shake.
>Now you're lost.
>With a little effort, you adjust Sweetie Belle until you're holding her by her midsection and away from you so you can both speak face-to-face.
>It's kinda funny how her legs dangle.
"Toaster?"
>"Nope. I was trying to make a regular old sandwich. Tomatoes, onions, lettuce, cheese..."
>You raise an eyebrow, finding it hard to believe her.
"Then why is there smoke?"
>Sweetie Belle frowns.
>"I'm not very good at making food."
>...
"Sweetie Belle, I won't be mad if you used the stove. Should you've asked me /before/ doing so?... Yes."
>The little filly pouts, either from reluctance to open up or some other reason.
>"I didn't touch the stove, I /promise/!"
>You narrowly avoid releasing your grip on her to instead clutch your erratic heart.
>Too... cute...
"...If you say so."
>You carefully lower Sweetie Belle until she's back on solid ground, then turn around to proceed to the smoky battlegrounds.
>Soft footfalls alert you to the unicorn following suit, but you don't stop her.
>Reaching the kitchen, your oxygen intake tanks, but there's still a significant lack of heat.
>Guess there really isn't a fire.
>Your first order of business is to open every window, silently hoping no one thinks the boutique is aflame.
>Of course, someone /has/ to notice.
>"Is everything okay there, Anon?"
>Crap.
>You give a thumbs up to the passerby in assurance.
"Absolutely! Just, uh... barbecuing."
>You don't bother waiting for a response, moving away from the window and coughing.
>You have no idea if it's due to her short stature, but Sweetie Belle is barely phased by all the smoke, leaping up onto the stool she was at mere minutes prior.
>"Awwww..."
>With moisture in your eyes, you arrive next to her, eyeing the plate she's also studying.
>...
"Sweetie Belle?"
>"Yes?"
"This is burnt. You made a burnt sandwich."
>'Burnt' is putting it nicely. The /entire thing/– veggies included– is charcoal black, wisps of smoke emitting from it.
>You tentatively poke it with a finger, and part of it crumbles.
>Yeah, there's no way she didn't use the stove.
>The miniature unicorn doesn't miss the accusatory implications, bouncing right back.
>"I know, but I really didn't touch the stove! It just kinda... I dunno, /happened/."
>She shrugs.
>You're no stranger to denying something you obviously did. Younger you would lie about things all the time.
>Sweetie Belle is /really/ determined to stick to her story. You'll give her credit, she's not fidgeting or acting suspiciously at all.
>This one is a natural.
>Pursing your lips, you roll your eyes, walking past her and to the stove.
>With proper air ventilation, the smoke has largely dissipated, letting you breathe easier and, more importantly, see well.
>...The stove is clean.
>There isn't a speck to be found, likely due to Rarity's immaculate cleaning.
>You should pick up some tips from her.
>Against most of your better judgement, you press a finger down against one of the four burners.
>Cool to the touch.
>The process repeats three times with three different burners, each turning up the same result.
>...
>"I /told you/ I didn't use it!"
>Now Sweetie Belle looks hurt, as though all your distrust finally got to her.
>You raise your hands in defense, reaching up to scratch your neck.
"Okay, okay... I'm /really/ drawing a blank here. /How in the world/ did you..."
>Your voice trails off as you catch eye of a glass near you, filled with...
>...
>You take two steps to the right until you can reach down and grab the glass, inspecting its contents.
>...Why is there /more burnt food/ inside of this thing?
>Sweetie Belle recognizes the unspoken question just from your expression, and responds.
>"Oh. I poured some apple juice while making the sandwich. It wasn't like that when I last saw it..."
>What.
>Is she saying these charred remains came from /juice/?!
>/LIQUID/?!
>How...
>You're at a loss for words as you place the glass back onto the countertop.
>Is Sweetie Belle performing some sort of forbidden art? It is /literally/ impossible to burn liquid!
>Your head hurts.
>The master-chef herself says nothing as you work through your newly-discovered reality-bending information.
>After a minute with no response from you, though, she's noticeably concerned.
>"Anon?"
>Don't worry, Sweetie Belle, Anon just came up with a very simple two-step plan!
>Step One: Don't think about it.
>Step Two: Make sure she doesn't come anywhere near the kitchen ever again... or at least while you're here.
>You eye the filly with newfound respect/fear.
"...How about we go enjoy a sandwich elsewhere?"
>Sweetie Belle, bless her heart, doesn't put up a fight.
>"Okay!"
>She grabs the plate in her mouth, taking it to the trash bin where the poor sandwich is thrown out. The burnt juice soon follows, and the pair of you exit the kitchen.
>Opalescence gives you the stink-eye as you pass her, and you fire back with a raspberry.
>Dumb cat.
>Your childish behavior is put on hold as a bell chimes, the front door opening on its own as a slightly-less-small mare steps inside, a bag following behind.
>Hey, she's back!
>Rarity is quick to notice you and Sweetie Belle as the latter bounds over to her older sister.
>"Hey Marshmallow!"
>...
>Don't. Laugh.
>You're fighting a losing battle and you know it.
>A hand flies up to massage your face as you take extreme interest in Rarity's forelegs.
>If you look her in the eye, you're gonna lose it.
>The fashionista continues staring at you for what seems like ages before finally turning to her sibling.
>"I take it Anonymous has been a... /mostly/ responsible adult?"
>"Yup! We're about to go eat lunch!"
>Rarity smiles apologetically.
>"That sounds lovely, but I'm afraid you'll have to wait until after we finish our business."
>The filly's expression falls, ears wilting in turn.
>"Oh."
>Why should Sweetie Belle have to miss out on lunch because of you?
"Sweetie Belle."
>The tiny unicorn looks up to you as you approach her while fishing out a few bits from your pocket.
>When you reach her, you crouch down, carefully sticking each bit into a section of her mane.
>Ponies really need pockets.
"Here's five bits. Go ahead and grab something for yourself. I hear Gertrude makes a mean hoagie."
>Her eyes light up for a moment, then she frowns.
>"I thought we were going to eat lunch together."
>This time you're free to clutch your poor heart.
>Who knew pint-sized ponies were your greatest weakness?
"This won't take any time at all... assuming your sister was telling the /truth/. You can get a head start on lunch and I'll join you right after this. I promise."
>Your assurance is enough to ease Sweetie Belle, and she smiles.
>"Great!"
>With that, she foots it to the still-open door, calling out one last time.
>"Bye Rarity!"
>"Be safe, dear!"
>Mission accomplished, you rise to your full height, brushing off your hands.
>That's when you make the mistake of meeting Rarity's gaze.
>In an instant, her mood goes from content to disgruntled, and her expression shows it.
>...
>You lose.
>A mighty guffaw escapes you, your hands flying up to cover your mouth even as you continue to laugh.
>You regret /nothing/.
>Rarity speaks once or twice as you work the rest of the laughter out of your system, but you can't decipher the words.
>Eventually you manage to stifle most of the giggles, clearing your throat with a goofy smile on your face.
"It... it wasn't on purpose, I /swear/."
>Rarity rolls her eyes, walking past you and towards the cluttered table where she rests her bag.
>In the span of a few seconds, she turns the tabletop from a mess into a perfectly organized cluster of materials.
>Neat.
>"I do wish you'd stop using that nickname... Although I suppose it's mostly to get a rise out of me, isn't it?"
>The mare looks over to you knowingly.
>You shake your head, crossing the distance until you're standing at the table as well.
"Nah, I like it. Seeing you get flustered is just a bonus."
>Rarity scoffs, pulling a chair out to sit on. You follow suit, sitting directly across from her.
>"I would hardly consider myself 'flustered' over a silly moniker."
>You mock-pout, a difficult task considering you're still working off the giggles.
"'Silly'?! That nickname came from the heart, y'know."
>"Flattering as that may be, I would prefer if, /at the very least/, it was kept between us. I'm not sure I want the entirety of Ponyville referring to /moi/ as a confectionary treat."
>It takes less than a second to counter her flimsy argument.
"No problem! If anyone tries calling you 'Marshmallow', tell them to buzz off, that's /our/ special nickname."
>You motion back and forth between yourself and the miffed unicorn.
>She's unamused, to say the least.
>"You're quite dedicated to this."
"Very."
>Recognizing a lost cause when she sees one, Rarity sighs, glancing over to her pet, who's still sunbathing.
>"There weren't any problems with Sweetie Belle, I presume?"
"Nope."
>The mare makes eye contact with you, smiling softly.
>"Thank you for watching her. My darling little sister can be... accident-prone at times."
>...
"No kidding."
>"Mhmm! Now, I do believe I have something to show you!"
>Ah, the finished product.
>Rarity's horn lights up, and a closet on the opposite side of the room opens.
>From its depths emerge two hangers, each concealing their contents thanks to the cloak covering both.
>"How dreadful that there isn't a suitable mannequin to present this with. Not a single shop sells a human variation! Can you believe that?"
>Oh-ho, this lady is funny.
>Rarity grins at you, likely pleased with her own joke.
"Sounds like discrimination. I say we sue."
>The hangars come to a stop directly above the table, tantalizing you... or at least they would if you didn't already know what was coming.
"...But before we get into any legal battles, let me remind you this entire scenario could've been avoided if you just sent me a few pictures like I suggested. Nothing fancy, just a few polaroids through the mail... Which /also/ reminds me: you never send me any letters."
>Rarity rolls her eyes again, setting her forelegs on the table in preparation for your upcoming verbiage.
"Why don't you send me any letters?... What, is it the whole 'distance' thing? Rarity, it's not about the meager number of yards between my house and yours, it's about /the message/. Not the physical message, the /emotional/ one."
>At that, Rarity lets out a very un-ladylike laugh.
>You, to your credit, keep up the charades, staring at her with hurt in your eyes.
>How could she...
>The mare is quick to recover, bringing a hoof up to help smother her tittering before crossing her forelegs and leaning in.
>"I'm terribly sorry, do go on. This is /very/ riveting."
"Thank you."
>Now where were you...
"...Right, the message that says 'I care enough about you to send this letter through the postal office despite the high probability of Derpy mixing it up with Berry Punch's daily medical bills.' /That's/ the message I look forward to. Pen-pals don't need to live in different cities, Marshmallow."
>You bring a hand up to your chest.
"They need to live in each other's /hearts/."
>Aaaand scene!
>There's a moment of silence that follows, Rarity remaining still, although there's an amused look adorning her face.
>Eventually she uncrosses her forelegs, bringing her hooves up in a slow clap.
>"Bra-/vo/, darling! An absolutely /marvelous/ performance!"
>You take a short bow, almost hitting your head on the table.
"Thank yew, thank yew. Would you believe me if I said that was entirely improv?"
>"I would've been surprised if it /wasn't/!"
>Ah, she's catching on.
"Well..."
>You drum your fingers on the tabletop before pointing to her.
"I /am/ going to send you a letter. I'll ask how your meeting with... uh, Sharp Lens went. So, now you have time to prepare a response! Aren't you happy?! We're gonna be pen-pals!"
>You emote a little with your hands.
>Jazz hands!
>The white unicorn appears to give it some thought before nodding.
>"I am positively ecstatic."
>Your face falls.
"You don't look like it..."
>Rarity smiles one of her trademark buy-my-product smiles.
>Obviously you're unconvinced, wailing out in despair.
"There's no teeth in it. It's like you don't care!"
>Rarity rolls her eyes, but obliges you.
>Almost perfect except for one thing...
"Your mouth is all-smiles, but those eyes say otherwise."
>Immediately you're rewarded with a cheesy smile worthy of Pinkie herself, the fashionista pulling no punches.
>Here we go again.
>You burst into laughter, prompting Rarity to end her antics and massage her cheeks.
>"I don't know how Pinkie manages to do it throughout the day..."
>Unlike last time, you fare much better in getting yourself under control, reigning yourself in in well under a minute.
>Your throat is getting sore.
"Oh man... That was great. I was NOT expecting you to play along."
>"I'm capable of having fun too, Anonymous."
>You note that it's spoken not as a revelation, but a cheerful reminder.
>Rarity finishes up her treatment, glancing up to the two covered hangers that are still hovering over the table.
>"Now, if we could get back to business. Last I recall, /somepony/ is waiting for you to join her instead of making increasingly elaborate excuses to stay here."
>Oh crap, she's right. You probably could've left ten min--
>Wait.
"You're kidding, right? I told you to send pics, not force me to--"
>With a dramatic flourish, Rarity shuts you up as she unveils the not-so-secret clothing.
>"Voilà!"
>Oooh.
>...Okay, /maybe/ it was better that you came.
>The mare slowly rotates the hangers, allowing you to take in the dark-blue three-piece suit and shirt so expertly crafted by her hooves.
>"Well?"
>You let out a low whistle of approval.
"I don't have an eye for fashion like you do, but it's safe to say this is the best piece of work /anyone/ has ever produced."
>Rarity's smiling now, likely proud of her work and your mostly-serious answer.
>"You flatter me, Anonymous."
"And I'll keep doing it. Seriously, this is incredible. Tha--"
>Up goes a hoof, Rarity clicking her tongue in disapproval.
>"/Don't/ say it. It was my pleasure."
>Instead, you quietly mouth "thank you" to her.
>...If she keeps rolling her eyes, they're gonna get stuck up there.
>"You'll find everything perfectly tailored to your size."
>Of course, no need to try it on. She knows it's perfect and so do you.
>The pair of you admire her craft for another minute before she carefully covers them once more.
>Until next time...
>"Unfortunately your shoes won't be shipped until tomorrow. I decided to present this today in case there were any complications for you, so as to allow myself enough time to fix them before the Gala."
>You nod your head in understanding.
"No complaints here. In fact, I'm so impressed I might actually stop by tomorrow as well to check out those shoes. I know, I can't believe it either. What is /wrong/ with me?"
>Away goes your suit, journeying back into the closet whence it came.
>"Awww, is my little Anonymous experiencing his first puppy love?"
"WHAT."
>Rarity's got that shrewd smile going again.
>"I must say, it's a bit unusual to fall for somepony solely because of their expertise. Unless, of course, there's something /else/ I'm missing..."
>You recompose yourself as best you can, her behavior catching you off guard for once.
>/You're/ supposed to be the one teasing, not her!
"Guess who just lost their 'Visitation from Anon' privilege."
>Rarity is unfazed by your threat, instead waving a hoof in farewell.
>"I'll see you tomorrow, then!"
>You stick out your tongue.
"You wish."
>With business adjourned, you can finally head out, and you don't hesitate to rise from your seat.
"See you t-- Dammit. /Have a good day/."
>You don't give Rarity the satisfaction of a smug response, instead hastily power-walking towards the front door.
>"You too, darling!"
>Bleh.
>Right as you're opening the door, you hear her speak one last time, more to herself than you.
>"Is it just my imagination, or do I smell smoke?"
-----
 
 
>Hmmm, what time is it?
>You pause your reading, briefly glancing at the ancient grandfather clock near the window.
>Good, you've still got plenty of time before you need to head out.
>You go back to lying on the couch, book awkwardly held above your head as you continue your latest thriller.
>Oh no! Daring Do has once again been put into a life-threatening situation with no obvious means of escape!
>How will she ever--
>*BANGBANGBANG*
>You jolt, the book slipping out of your hands and hitting your face.
>Ow.
>Someone's at the front door and boy, they do NOT sound happy.
>The front door doesn't deserve that abuse. You should get a doorbell before ponies break it with their ridiculously soft-yet-somehow-hard hooves.
>After prying the literature off your face, you rise, mumbling an incoherent "coming" to the unseen visitor.
>*BANGBANGBANG*
"Stop it!"
>They're gonna bust the damn thing if they keep it up.
>You put a little more pep in your step, reaching the door to finally put an end to this madness.
>*BANGBANG--*
>A petite manicured hoof takes a futile swipe at empty space as you open the door and glare at the offender.
"What the heck?! What did this poor door do to ever deserve that treatment?"
>You swear Rarity bristles, shooting you an exasperating look before firing off one question after another.
>"What are you /doing/?! Are you aware of the time?! You promised me you would be at the boutique /early/ for whereareyourpants."
>The transition is so fluid it takes a few moments for you to realize she swapped to a completely different subject.
>What the hell kind of question is that?
>You put a hand on your hip, scoffing at her ridiculous inquiry.
"First of all, /this is my house/. Man was born to roam the lands without pants, that's why I have a /very strict/ no-pants policy here. Yes, it applies to /everyone/... which doesn't make much sense considering most of you guys don't wear pants."
>You rub your chin in thought.
"It's the principle of the message that counts, right?"
>Rarity's mouth is half open, as though she wants to refute your claim.
>Fortunately for her, she has her priorities in check and instead completely ignores it.
>"You were supposed to arrive at the boutique over a half-hour ago! Did you suddenly forget what today is?"
"No, of course not! I recall we had a debate over this where I clearly stated I wouldn't be there until six."
>"And I /clearly/ instructed you to arrive at five."
>You shake your head in amusement.
"Unlike women... or mares in this case, I don't need two hours to prepare. It's a suit, not a wedding dress."
>Rarity is still unconvinced, addressing you similar to an adult scolding a small child.
>"Be that as it may, you still should've shown up on time. It was a simple request."
>Ouch. She has a point.
>Wanting to avoid a scathing verbal assault, you raise your hands in surrender.
"/Okay/, I'm sorry. I'm gonna go get dressed; you can head back and I'll meet you there."
>To your mild surprise, the mare sits on the ground, presumably tarnishing her spotless coat.
>"I'll wait here."
>You resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead flipping your hands up in defeat.
"Whatever. Come inside if you want, this won't take long."
>You leave the door open, lightly jogging away and towards your bedroom.
>True to your word, you dress in a flash, although you spend a shameful number of seconds debating whether or not to switch shirts.
>Ahh forget it, you're just gonna take it off again soon.
>Thanks to the waxed floor, you take a short running start as you exit the bedroom before breaking into a controlled slide.
>Socks are a national treasure.
>It turns out Rarity accepted your invitation and is seated just beyond the now-closed front door, politely taking in the decor as you come to a stop next to her.
>You begin putting on your shoes just in time to catch an earful of small talk.
>"This is the first time I've ever been inside."
"Is it?... Nah, that can't be true."
>"Indeed. All of our meetings here consist of me trying to drag you elsewhere, with moderate success."
>You chuckle.
"Yeah, my avoidance rate could use some improvement. All bark and no bite."
>"You have a lovely home."
"Thanks, I took a few pages out of your book."
>That perks her interest, and she studies the living room with new focus.
>"Where?"
>You apply the finishing touches to your shoes before standing up, stretching your legs.
"Well for starters, I keep the place clean."
>A hoof reaches out to lightly push your thigh, and you snort.
"What?! It's true!"
>Rarity rises to her hooves, smiling a little.
>"That's a page in /everypony's/ book."
"Exactly! But I chose /yours/."
>Rarity steps aside enough for you to open the door and do the same, gesturing with a small bow.
"After you."
>Once upon a time– or nearly three weeks ago– Marshmallow demanded you go first so as to ensure you didn't run away.
>Now she willingly walks ahead without so much as a glance back.
>Oh how the times have changed.
>You follow her through the doorway, shutting the door and locking it as usual before settling next to her, the pair of you starting towards the boutique.
>"You've become /quite/ the charmer since yesterday, Anonymous. Practicing for the Gala?"
>Why does it have to be just for tonight? Who says you haven't turned over a new leaf?
"Yup. Been awhile since I had to feign my social status... Do you have a monocle? Honestly, that'd probably be enough to fool everyone."
>"There's nothing to feign, dear. Your mannerisms are more than appropriate for such an event."
>You eye the fashionista, who regards you with a calm expression.
"Y'know, /I'm/ the one who's supposed to say that sarcastically."
>Now she dead-pans.
>...
"Wait, you're serious?"
>"You can drop the shtick, Anonymous. All this time you've been mistaking the Grand Galloping Gala as a high-class, prestigious event..."
>Rarity pauses for a second.
>"...Which it is. /But/, the purpose of the Gala is to mingle, socialize, and most importantly: /have fun/. While I'm sure there will be a few uptight attendees, not /everypony/ has a stick up their... You understand where I'm going with this."
>You grin evilly.
"Such crass language!... /I like it/."
>Rarity rolls her eyes, but your joke coaxes a smile out of her.
>"/Be yourself/, and everypony will have a wonderful time."
>Gay.
"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn ya."
>"You always over-exaggerate. It's part of your charm."
>Oh, this is the part where you fire back with something similar.
"And you... uh... You /really/ don't know when to give up."
>Rarity's smile falters.
"But, y'know, that's part of your charm... Mostly."
>After a few blinks, she chuckles lightly to herself.
>"You've made some improvements but you're still a long way from securing a marefriend with those kind of compliments."
"Practice makes perfect."
>It's around now that you reach the boutique, Rarity magically opening the door for the pair of you to squeeze inside.
>The first thing you notice is the very large screen blocking a section of the room, shadows dancing across it thanks to the ponies hidden.
>Why would a screen be needed if they don't normally wear clothes?
>The second is the short purple dragon sitting off to the side, hand waving in greeting as you and Rarity approach him.
>Is he wearing...
>"Hey Anon!"
"Yo."
>Spike is currently rocking a button-down white shirt with a black jacket and red tie... but no pants.
>Uhhh...
>You come dangerously close to inquiring towards his peculiar setup, but a simple reminder stops you.
>Ponies and pants aren't a common mix.
>But Spike is a dragon...
>Yeah, a dragon that doesn't normally wear pants.
>You point towards his duds.
"Snazzy getup."
>Spike puffs his chest out a little.
>"Thanks!"
>"Oooh! Is Anon here?"
>The question comes not from Spike but one of the unseen ponies, their voice carrying over the screen.
>Rarity turns her head towards a distant rack, magically seizing two familiar hangers from it as she addresses Pinkie.
>"Yes Pinkie, I found him holed up inside his abode."
"Just like I /said/ I would be."
>A chorus of hellos follow, which you return.
>A second voice chimes in, only with a more southern drawl.
>"Ah warned ya, Anon. Shoulda just came before making Rarity drag yer flank here."
>You frown and Marshmallow beams.
>"Thank you, Applejack! Hopefully Anonymous will take your advice to heart next time."
"You're a traitor, Apples! A TRAITOR!"
>A hearty guffaw is her only response as Rarity levitates your hidden clothes over to you, which you accept before looking around.
"...I don't suppose that little secluded section over there is reserved for me?"
>You're referring to a small area near the front door hidden by, surprise surprise, another screen.
>Rarity nods, an amused smile forming.
>"I figured I should spoil you just this once."
"It's the best gift a guy could ask for."
>An amused snort escapes her as she motions towards your little slice of paradise.
>"Go on then! You're a grown stallion, you don't need require assistance with putting on a suit."
>...
"Rarity, you /really/ need to be less--"
>You choke on your words, hastily glancing down to the tiny dragon who's been watching your conversation with growing interest.
>Dammit.
>Instead, you lean down until your mouth is near her ear, and whisper to her.
"You are /soooo/ lucky children are present."
>When Rarity turns her head to face you, she's in shock.
>"Anonymous!"
>...An expression that quickly gives way to a saucy grin.
>"How /scandalously/ straightforward of you."
>Oh, come /on/! Seriously?!
"That was supposed to be /my/ thing!"
>Rarity keeps up the charades even in your misery, winking at you.
>Truly this is the darkest timeline.
>"Move along now, darling, we're both woefully off schedule."
>With that, Marshmallow drifts past you, her tail flicking you lightly on the nose as she departs.
>With how curled that thing is, you completely forgot she could move it.
>You'll get her back. Maybe not today, but it'll happen.
>"What were you guys talking about?"
>Oh right, Spike.
>You straighten up, adjusting the hangers secured in your hands.
"I'll tell you when you're older."
>Leaving a confused Spike to his thoughts, you mosey over to the section so graciously provided by your host, slipping around the screen.
>Oh good! Rarity was kind enough to leave the shoes and socks here.
>Alright, time to play dress-up!
>The minutes fly by as you change clothes, occasionally engaging in small talk across the room.
>Ever the efficient person, in no time at all you've adorned yourself with everything save for the jacket.
>No point in restricting yourself this early.
>Sadly there aren't any mirrors in the vicinity, so you have to head back into the cold, cruel world to see how you look.
>Spike is once again the lone survivor in the boutique, legs swinging below the stool as he responds to Twilight.
>"If Princess Celestia said it was okay, then it's okay! You have nothing to worry about."
"Yeah, Sunbutt knows all, right?"
>"SunWHAT?!"
>You smirk at Twilight's incredulity as the dragon glances over to you, scanning your getup.
>"You look great, Anon!... Uhhh, isn't the tie supposed to be /under/ the vest?"
>You blink, looking down at your blemish.
"Is it?... Whoops."
>Shows how much you know about staying sharp. A freakin' fire-breathing lizard know more than you.
>You promptly fix the tie, making sure it's nice and secured before heading over to a mirror propped against the wall.
>Naturally it's shorter than you, so you tilt it to properly get a full view of yourself.
>.../Not bad/. Not bad at all.
>This light-blue shirt clashes nicely with everything.
>Overall, you're more than impressed. You're /amazed/.
>Not at yourself, but at the quality and craftsmanship of Rarity.
>Special talent indeed.
>Once you finish admiring yourself, you readjust the mirror and walk back to Spike, joining him in waiting for everyone else.
>...
"WOW, WHO WOULDA GUESSED ANON ALREADY FINISHED PUTTING ON HIS STUFF?! I BET NOBODY SAW /THAT/ COMING."
>A disgruntled fashion horse is quick to shoot you down.
>"Oh hush."
>"Yeah Anon, it's not a race!"
>You scoff, fixing your seated position.
"'It's not a race', said Blue Fast."
>"Hey, don't be mad because I blow you out of the water every time you challenge me!"
"I'm not mad! /You/, though... you sound like you're mad."
>"WHAT?! I'm not mad at all! /You're/ the one who sounds mad!"
>You and Spike both stifle a laugh.
>It's so easy to goad her into things.
>Sadly for you, Applejack is a sensible pony.
>"Rainbow Dash, are you /really/ gonna fall fer this again?"
>A pause.
>"No!... Maybe."
>You snort, an action you quickly regret as Applejack turns on you.
>"Quit it, Anon. Ah better not see the two of ya' bickerin' later."
>Though she can't see it, you bow your head in shame.
"Yes ma'am..."
>"'N stop calling me 'ma'am'!"
"Sorry ma'am..."
>You swear you can hear her rubbing her brow in exasperation and effort to not laugh, which would therefor encourage your behavior.
>"...Yer a hoot, Anon. Anyway, we're done!... Well, most of us."
>The end of the screen is pulled back and five familiar ponies emerge from behind it one by one, coming to a stop in front of you and Spike.
>As if on cue, Twilight, Pinkie, Dash, Applejack, and Fluttershy all strike a pose befitting their character.
>...Holy crap, those dresses and headpieces are /amazing/.
>"/Whoa/! You guys look /incredible/!"
"Yeah, what he said."
>Fluttershy turns a little red.
>"Thank you..."
>Pinkie bounces in place, a feat you consider highly impressive considering she's wearing a dress.
>"Aren't they super-duper-stupendous?! Rarity's AMAZING!"
>Speaking of, the mare in question is still busy preparing herself.
>Oh right, that's kinda your fault...
>You rise from your chair, walking over to the screen and peering around it.
"Rarity, are ya kinda-sorta-almost done or--"
>"OUT. GET OUT!"
>Your entire upper body is seized in a light blue aura and promptly shoved away from the screen, which also moves to block any other would-be nosy-goers.
>...
>You slowly turn towards the rest of the group, who're regarding you with a mixture of pity and 'well, should've seen that coming'.
"...Correct me if I'm wrong: last I recall, Rarity does not /normally/ wear clothes."
>"Nope!"
>Thanks Pinkie.
"Cool, cool..."
>Applejack shrugs, walking over to steal your precious chair.
>"Ah said the same thing last year and she listened. Don't right know what caused her to change her mind."
>You roll your eyes... and immediately refocus on Apples.
>"Uhm... You look nice, Anon."
>You direct a curt "thanks" to Fluttershy before continuing to stare at Applejack, even ignoring a knock on the door and Twilight's "I'll get it".
>Of course your blatant ogling doesn't go unnoticed, Apples raising a non-existent eyebrow in confusion.
>"Uhh, is somethin' wrong?"
>After a few tense seconds, you shake your head, all the while grinning.
"You love that hat, don't you?"
>Her eyes drift up to stare at the brim peeking over her head, and she smiles, reaching up to lightly touch it.
>"Never go anywhere without it."
"Well it works nicely with that dress."
>"Aw shucks... If yer tryna butter me up, it's not workin'."
>At that, the pair of you laugh.
>Your little moment is broken up by Twilight excitedly calling out from the front door.
>"The carriage is here!"
>It's a damn shame limos don't exist in Equestria. Guess you have to settle for the next-best thi--
>You flinch as a rainbow blur zooms past you and out of the boutique, a stream of incomprehensible words and the occasional "ohmygosh" being heard.
>Huh. Didn't think Dash was /that/ hyped for the evening.
>Rarity's voice carries over the screen, reminding everyone that there's still one pony missing.
>"Go ahead, everypony! I'm just putting the finishing touches on my attire. I'll be out shortly!"
>Applejack doesn't need telling twice.
>"Yee-haw! Come on, everypony!"
>Chattering breaks out in the group as each pony excitedly makes their way towards the door... except for yourself and a certain dragon.
>Twilight is the last non-busy member left in the boutique, and she doesn't miss the two stragglers standing patiently near the screen.
>"You guys coming?"
>In unison, you and Spike gesture towards the hidden pony still gathering herself.
>The purple mare smiles knowingly, giggling to herself.
>"I understand."
>Yeah, Spike couldn't be less obvious if he tried.
>Twilight fades away into the late-afternoon background, leaving you and Spike to patiently wait.
>After a few minutes, you're starting to wonder if you should sit down, when Rarity speaks.
>"There we are! One gorgeous mare, coming right up!"
"Keep that ego in check, missy."
>You ignore Spike's glare, watching her shadow move closer and closer towards you until the screen is magically set aside and, for the last time, a mare steps out.
>...
>"Sweet mother of Celestia..."
>You're lucky enough to catch Spike whispering that under his breath, the dragon nearly slack-jawed in awe.
>Whether or not that's due to his own crush on her, he's fairly on the mark.
>The long elegant gown Rarity has on is entirely dark-magenta save for the flecks of silver lining the frills and edges. There's also two pairs of silver shoes that seem to glimmer whenever she moves her hooves.
>But what stands out the most is her mane, which has lost all of the curliness you've become used to. Now it's completely flat, pressed loosely against her head.
>Overall, you're having a hard time refuting her earlier claim.
>"You can pick your jaw up off the floor, Anonymous. I know I'm beautiful."
>You break out of your thoughts to see the same old Rarity you know giving you the same ol' shrewd smile you despise.
>Illusion broken.
>You sneer at the smug unicorn.
"Well, you're /something/."
>"You don't have to say it, dear. Your reaction is sufficient."
>She's taking everything you send her way and twisting it until it looks like you're endlessly praising her.
>...Dear god, she learned from the best.
>Rarity's gloating dies down as she properly studies your getup, a worried expression forming.
>"Where's the suit jacket?"
>The what?...
"Oh!"
>You swivel, power-walking back to your things to grab the final piece of the snazzy puzzle.
"Yeah, I wanted to enjoy my last few precious moments of flexibility."
>Just as you're about to put it on, you pause, examining the front more carefully.
>Wait a second, that's...
>Wow.
>Peeking out of the front pocket is a solid-colored handkerchief, but the real detail is in the three minuscule diamonds adorning it, looking awfully similar to a certain someone's Cutie Mark.
>You smile softly to yourself as you put on the jacket, leaving only the bottom button undone.
>Her work truly is second to none.
>You can hear Spike and Rarity approaching as you adjust the cuffs, and you step out to join them.
>The small dragon gives a cheerful thumbs-up of approval as Rarity once again scrutinizes you.
"It's no dress, but I think it looks /damn/ good."
>Spike's innocent ears can survive this one.
>After several seconds, Rarity nods in approval.
>"It's a lovely suit, Anonymous, but I think you're mixed up. It's not the outfit that makes the stallion."
"You're right, it's the stallion that..."
>...Did you really walk right into that?
"Oh you are /smooth/."
>"Practice /does/ makes perfect."
>Marshmallow glances towards the open door, before looking back to you with a smile.
>"Let's not keep the others waiting, shall we?"
>Recognizing his time to shine, Spike hurries over to the door, standing dutifully to the side so Rarity may pass.
>"After you."
>"Why thank you, Spikey!"
>You follow right behind her, also giving credit to the gentlemanly dragon, albeit with falsetto.
"Thank you, Spike-darling!"
>Spike snorts, laughing as he exits the boutique with the door closing shut behind him.
>Now basking in the warm early-evening sun, you take in your transport for the night.
>Rarity said Twilight used an apple last time, so you were fully expecting an orange to be the new selection. Sadly it looks like they settled for an actual carriage.
>Lame.
>Spike walks with Rarity to help seat her while you stroll towards the front, where two well-dressed stallions sit patiently, having volunteered their services for the evening.
>Your large stature naturally draws their attention as you come to a stop in front of them.
>Their mild curiosity gives way to growing confusion as you silently study them, the pair exchanging brief looks.
>Finally you speak.
"Whatever you /think/ Rarity promised you guys, it ain't happening."
>Satisfied with your message, you leave the two puzzled ponies, only to stop as you spot Spike climbing up to the perch.
"What're you doing?"
>The purple dragon glances back for a second before hopping up to sit down.
>"I'm the driver!"
>...
>You have a LOT of questions.
>For the sake of time, however, you dispel all but two of them.
"Why? They know where we're going, right?"
>You refocus on the stallions, who have since risen in preparation to leave.
"Hey. You guys know how to reach Canterlot, yeah?"
>The one on the right turns his head back, looking at you with a vexed expression.
>"Uhm, yes?"
>You turn back to Spike, pointing at him, then the carriage.
>Spike fiddles with his claws for a couple of seconds before responding, eyes narrowed.
>"If Twilight says anything, it was /your/ idea."
"I would hope so, considering I'm the one who suggested it."
>The dragon hops off the perch and to the other side, opening the door to sit next to Twilight, presumably.
>You give the stallions one last glance before stepping up and ducking inside, immediately greeted by a cheerful "hi Anon!" from Pinkie.
>The interior is well-lit, thanks to multiple lanterns containing lightning bugs. The seats are a little lower to the floor than you'd prefer, but it's only an hour-ish ride so you'll be fine.
>Either way the carriage is surprisingly roomy for someone of your size.
>Thanks to Spike opting to sit on the other side, you come to a rest opposite Rarity, who watches as you close the carriage door.
>Twilight, always one to take charge, speaks up.
>"Is everypony ready?"
>"Mhmm."
>"Absolutely! Let's go!"
>"I can't WAIT!"
>"...Yes..."
"I dunno, lemme think about it."
>Spike pushes the small circular window open, leaning out to holler at the two stallions.
>"We're all set, guys!"
>Not long after, there's a small lurch, and you see Ponyville start to move.
>And they're off!
>Spike shuts the window as everyone begins buzzing, talking with each other about the evening ahead.
>You get into light conversation with Pinkie... or at least try to until you realize she's talking to herself more than you, continuously hyping herself up.
>Note to self: Stay out of her way when you reach the Gala. She may literally burst from excitement.
>Thus, you settle for watching the passing countryside, wondering how you missed the rapid decline of sunlight.
>The minutes pass by and eventually you take a passing peek towards Rarity.
>Although she was chatting with Rainbow Dash earlier, now she's quiet as she calmly looks at you.
"I still think we should've taken the train."
>"To the Grand Galloping Gala? Absolutely not. The method of transportation must fit the occasion."
>You nod sagely.
"You're right. We should've /walked/, that way everyone could see how stunning we look."
>Rarity adopts a bemused expression, adjusting a slipper.
>"There will be /more/ than enough time for that at the Gala."
>It's kinda interesting just how much more confidently Rarity speaks just by wearing a dress.
>Really working for that authentic Canterlot-made appeal.
>You chuckle a bit before letting out a small huff, gesturing towards her person.
"You look great. There, I said it. /Happy/?"
>Rarity puts on a show of thinking about it, glancing outside while you bang your head lightly against the side of the carriage in a show of impatience.
>Finally she looks back to you, a pleasant smile forming.
>"I'm glad you came to terms with your feelings, Anonymous."
>Oh no, she's not winning again!
>You return her pleasantry with a sweet smile of your own.
"Me too. That's why I'm gonna stick by your side the /entire evening/ so you can introduce me to all your Canterlot buddies. I'm sure my devilish good looks and boyish charms will win over the hearts of everyone.
>You couldn't lay on the sarcasm any thicker if you tried.
>"I thought that was a given!"
>Your facade comes to an end as you laugh, Rarity joining in with her own controlled chuckles.
>Eventually the giggle-fit dies down, and the pair of you stare at each other for a moment.
>...A moment that abruptly ceases when a pink foreleg wraps itself around your shoulders, the owner quickly leaning into you.
>"HEY, I heard laughter! I wanna laugh too! Are you guys telling jokes?"
>You freeze, her rapid-fire sentences making it difficult to answer.
"Uhhh..."
 
 
>Your shoes meet dirt as you step out of the carriage and into the evening moonlight, standing aside the door to hold it open.
>One by one, Rarity, Pinkie, and Fluttershy exit, each thanking you as they pass by.
>Spike has done the same on the other side, so after a quick scan to ensure nothing was left behind, both of you shut the doors.
>Rarity is talking to the two stallions so you leave her be, joining the rest of the group at the foot of the bridge leading towards the castle.
>Boy, there are a /lot/ of ponies here.
>You attract a few curious eyes as they pass by, but nothing to consider uncomfortable. That's just how it is when you stand above everyone else.
>Each of your pals are eagerly drinking in the sights, eyes wide in amazement.
>That's when Twilight speaks... kind of.
>...
>Is she singing?
>Where is that music coming from?
>...Oh.
>Oh no.
>You've seen this before. Only once, at a distance, but you've seen it.
>Applejack joins her, marching ahead while mentioning something about integrity.
>You can see ponies around you nodding their heads to the beat, and you know it's only a matter of time until they join in as backup singers.
>As you awkwardly stand here, more out of place than ever before, you note the weird tension in your chest.
>Something feels... different.
>You don't like it.
>It's at that point Rarity prances by, and you catch her own words.
>Wanting to dazzle everyone, letting go of silly fantasies... Prince who?
>She finishes up with a bit about enjoying time with friends, slipping out of the group of stallions who appeared from nowhere to dance alongside her, and motions towards you with a wave.
>This is getting out of hand.
>Realizing you've been left behind by the group, you walk towards Rarity as Pinkie starts her turn.
>Marshmallow smiles as you reach her, turning around so the pair of you can proceed towards the castle.
"I'm feeling generous tonight. You also have a... very lovely voice."
>Rarity doesn't look up and you don't look down, but you know she's smug as hell... probably.
>"Thank you."
>At this point your chest isn't doing too hot. It's like there's something smothering it.
>...
>No.
>Please no.
>You're not from Equestria. You're not a pony.
>/Surely/ you're an exception. Right!?
>But as Rainbow Dash belts out her own tune and pegasi soar through the air, it's looking bleaker by the second.
>Fight it, Anon. Bad things will happen if you fail.
>Must... Not...
----
 
 
"She broke my heart, Spike."
>You sink a little more into your couch, not looking at the purple dragon seated at the other side as you swirl the amber liquid inside your shot glass.
>Spike nods in solemn understanding, peering at his own glass as though he distrusts the contents.
>"I know, I know... You keep saying it."
>Satisfied with his inspection, he downs half of the cool drink in one go.
>Wow, kid can really hold his own.
"I trusted her, and she left me to rot."
>This time Spike doesn't respond, likely refusing to continue parroting the same sentence over and over.
>Up goes your glass as you empty it in less than a second, shuddering at the foreign sensation.
"What kind of being tempts a man, then crushes his dreams..."
>"I know you're upset, Anon, but you have to move on. You can't stay in your house for the rest of your life, moping and drinking."
>Now you focus on Spike, frowning as you unsteadily thrust your shot glass at him.
"Yes I /can/ and maybe I /will/!... Nothing matters anymore..."
>You sniff as Spike rolls his eyes, downing the rest of his drink.
>"I think you've had enough."
"Enough of being /lied to/?! Why yes, I have!"
>His eyes narrow, a claw pointing towards the coffee table housing a large unlabeled bottle containing the rest of the precious nectar.
>"I meant /that/."
>You scoff, placing your glass on the table and grabbing the bottle.
"I'll have as much of this as I WANT. I'm an adult, I make my own rules!"
>A variety of emotions play out across Spike's face, but before he can act on one, several knocks reverberate through the front door.
>"...I guess I'll get it."
>Spike slides off the couch, placing his glass on the table before walking off.
>In the meantime, you've taken to clumsily opening the bottle... or at least trying to.
>Why is this cork stuck in here so damn tightly?
>...More importantly, why the hell do you keep putting it back in?
>There are voices at the entrance but you ignore them in favor of finally removing the cork, mentally cheering for yourself.
>You take satisfaction in watching your shot glass fill up for the umpteenth time, knowing that soon it may help fill the emptiness in your--
>"Good evening Anonymous."
>Immediately your mood sours, hands tensing as you place the bottle down and lift your glass up.
>You shouldn't even look at her.
>Of course the other part of you has different plans, and you glance up to grimace at the petite mare.
>Looks like she re-curled her mane.
"Oh, hey /Rarity/. Come to watch me wallow in self-misery?"
>The warm smile she wears gives way to puzzlement as she looks to an approaching Spike, who shrugs as he reclaims his spot on the couch.
>"...Is something wrong?"
>The amber liquid comes dauntingly close to spilling as you point to her accusingly.
"Don't pretend everything is cool! You know everything is /not cool/."
>Now Rarity is completely befuddled, concern starting to mix with it.
>"I haven't the faintest idea what you're referring to."
"You were next to me, you saw /everything/."
>Seconds tick by as Rarity does her best to recall whatever could possibly leave you so broken.
>Just when you're sure she's going to snap, her face lights up in recognition, an "oh!" forming before it's immediately snuffed out by a face-hoof.
>When she's done dragging her hoof down, Rarity looks miffed.
>"Anonymous, it's a bird."
>You gasp, this time spilling a little of your drink as you bring a hand to your mouth.
"How /dare you/!? /Her/ name is Philomena and she's a /phoenix/, thank you very much."
>Marshmallow rolls her eyes, walking over to the couch and seating herself between you and Spike.
>There's a hint of disapproval as she eyes your glass and the bottle, but otherwise she remains focused on you.
>"Philomena is /Princess Celestia's/ pet. While I'm sure your offerings were very tempting, she has a home in the Canterlot Castle."
>Your face falls as Rarity hammers in the truth, each word a painful reminder of your loss.
>Thus, you take another shot, noting how much easier it's gotten to chug it down.
>Your eyes wander a little more than you'd like as you stare deep into Rarity's eyes.
"We could've been happy, Marshmallow. I offered her the /world/. No cages; no stuffy castles, however grand they may be. Just a nice town called Ponyville and a small, comfy house to come back to, knowing there will always be a friend waiting."
>You sigh, turning your morose gaze to the half-empty bottle still calling your name.
>You can definitely squeeze a few more shots in.
>You don't flinch as a hoof comes to rest on your shoulder, rubbing it in empathy.
>"While I can't say I hold the same emotions for it... ahem, /her/, I'm sorry to see you in such a state."
>A pause, only the sound of a filling glass heard.
>"There's always next year."
>Her attempts to cheer you up do little to brighten your mood.
"...What if she forgets me? I don't think I could take--"
>"SPIKE, WHAT IN EQUESTRIA ARE YOU DOING?!"
>/Now/ you flinch, nearly dropping your glass as Rarity explodes.
>Adjusting yourself to face the source, you see Spike wide-eyed in half-terror/half-confusion while the white unicorn gazes upon him with unbridled fury.
>Tentatively, as though defusing a bomb, Spike squeaks out a reply.
>"...H-having a drink?"
>While the obvious answer is usually the best answer, his honest reply does nothing to calm the furious mare.
>"What would Twilight say if she saw you right now?! You were raised better that this!"
>Spike remains in a cowering position, his bafflement growing as he clutches the shot glass to his chest.
>"B-but Twilight always lets me drink apple cider!"
>...
>Ho-lee /crap/, you wish you could savor this moment for eternity.
>Although not on purpose, the purple dragon's acting and delivery was /perfect/.
>Instead, you take MASSIVE interest in your own empty glass, wondering whether or not to refill it.
>...Your face is aching.
>The pony next to you shifts, and you catch the large bottle levitating off the table and towards her.
>You say nothing as she sniffs the contents a few times before quietly putting it back.
>You still can't see her face and quite frankly, you don't want to.
>You'll lose your composure. Again.
>"...My apologies, Spike. I shouldn't have been so quick to accuse... At least, not /you/.
>You smirk a little, marking the beginning of the end.
>"...It's okay Rarity... Now that I think about it, it /does/ look a little strange."
>It's around this time you feel the side of your head warming up.
>Yeah, she's definitely staring at you.
>Just the mental imagery of a disapproving Marshmallow is enough for a huff to escape you, a hand raising to not-so-casually scratch your nose.
>This is torture.
>The seconds tick by as your willpower steadily depletes, your own gaze burning a hole in your glass.
>...Are you sweating?
>"...Seriously."
>Her tone is so blunt, so devoid of its usual femininity, that any minuscule chance of recomposing yourself dies on the spot.
>You burst into laughter as a hoof jabs you on the side good-naturedly.
>In between fits of laughter, you manage to choke out a sentence.
"WHY ARE YOU MAD AT /ME/?!"
>"I'm not mad at you. However, I /very much/ doubt it was Spike's decision to enjoy a bottle of Sweet Apple Acres Cider using /shot glasses/."
>Okay, /maybe/ she has a point.
>It takes another minute for you to settle down, still giggling a little as you look at Rarity.
>To your surprise, the fashionista appears far more amused than irked as she shakes her head, her horn lighting up.
>In an instant the glass leaves your hand, easily evading the futile swipe you take at it.
"Hey!"
>"Ah-ah-ah, no touching."
>The bottle is quick to join it as Rarity pours herself a drink, eyes closing as she daintily sips the concoction.
>You cross your arms, harrumphing at the very rude pony.
"If you don't give me back that glass, I'm drinking straight from the bottle."
>That sparks a look of mild disgust from Spike.
>"Please don't."
>"Go ahead."
>You snatch the bottle from her magic grip, eyeing it with longing before placing it back onto the table.
"Only because you asked, Spike."
>"Thanks."
>Rarity opens her eyes as she finishes draining the contents, levitating the glass back to you.
>"Thank you Anonymous."
>You take it and also set it on the table, sticking a tongue out at her as she bats her eyelashes innocently.
>It'll be a cold day in hell before you start falling for that.
>"I was considering asking if your infatuation with Philomena was also a ruse... but considering I saw it firsthoof, I'd say that's not the case."
"Oh absolutely, I adore that bird. It's a freakin' /phoenix/, what's NOT to love?!"
>There's a slight twitch as Rarity hears your mild hypocrisy, but otherwise she doesn't react, only lifting a hoof to rub her chin in thought.
>"How about we focus on the /positives/ of last night..."
>Immediately she brightens up... A little /too/ much.
>You don't like that smile. It's /looks/ like a great smile, but the intentions behind it are sinister.
>"You certainly made quite an entrance at the Gala."
>...
>Oh god.
>Your hands fly up to your face, burying yourself in shame and diluted terror.
"I don't wanna talk about it."
>Something is prodding one of your hands, trying to move it.
>Nuts to that, you ain't budging.
>Rarity, clearly not one to follow requests, continues on.
>"How can you be ashamed of such talent? I've never heard somepony sing so beautifully in my life!"
>She sounds like she really means it. She also sounded like she meant it yesterday, right after you made a fool of yourself... but that's beside the point.
>Spike is next up in the batter's cage.
>"I didn't know you could sing so well, Anon!"
>Now you tear your hands away from your face, Rarity's hoof slipping away as you glare at the duo with /far/ more fear than anger.
"I CAN'T. Did you /hear/ that voice?! It's like Frank Sinatra possessed me! I can't carry a tune to save my life! I was convinced I'd look like a fool until... /that/ happened!"
>You close your eyes, shaking your head like a rabid dog so as to, hopefully, dispel the memories.
>More pressure, only this time on your thigh, so you reluctantly open your eyes.
>Understandably, Marshmallow and Spike are a bit confused, the latter more so than the former.
>Upon noticing you've returned to the mortal world, Rarity continues rubbing your leg.
>"I'm not entirely sure who this 'Frank Sinatra' fellow is, but in any case, both of you have very lovely voices. You didn't look anything like a fool, Anonymous, you /dazzled/ everypony watching!"
>"Yeah! Why would you be ashamed of singing well?"
>But you didn't /want/ to dazzle everyone! You didn't /want/ to sing well! You wanted to quietly slink off into the sidelines until all the hubbub was finished.
>You desperately hiss out one final declaration of anguish in a last attempt to get them to understand your plight.
"Look... I said things I don't normally say, and did things I normally don't do."
>"Darling, you were singing from the /heart/. Sometimes a pony needs to express their feelings in more than simple conversation, and I'd say you caught on quickly."
"I. Said. /Things/."
>Rarity rolls her eyes in exasperation, but remains all-smiles.
>"Wanting to make a good impression was on the minds of /everypony/, not just you... Nor was enjoying the evening with friends."
>"Hay, Rarity and I also sang about our friends! We all did!"
>You grunt in begrudging affirmation, drumming your fingers against your wrist.
"I guess..."
>There's a short moment of silence, then Rarity pipes up.
>"...Though I must admit, I am a /teensy/ bit biased after you expressed thanks towards me."
>Her hoof lightly taps your leg.
>Oh right, that.
>You gesture aimlessly with your hands.
"Who /wouldn't/ be? I /nailed/ that part, even I know that."
>Now she jabs your thigh, making you and Spike snort as you pitifully attempt to scoot away.
"It was a joke!... But yeah, I liked it too."
>Spike abruptly stops chucking, frowning a little before hopping off the couch.
>"Excuse me..."
>You watch as he heads off towards the bathroom, only turning away when you're certain that's where he's going.
>Don't want the little brat snooping around your house.
>Now it's just you and Rarity, the latter remaining quiet as you contemplate drinking some more cider.
>...Nah, you've had enough.
>Eventually Rarity lets out a small sigh.
>"So, aside from your flashy entrance and lovebird problems--"
"Not funny."
>That was pretty funny.
>"--I presume you enjoyed your time at the Grand Galloping Gala?"
>Normally you'd /really/ stretch out your answer with a long list of over-exaggerated gripes followed by one plain positive that outweighed the negatives...
>...Maybe you'll do so another day.
>Instead, you keep it short and surprisingly simple, nodding in confirmation.
"It was good. Better than I expected."
>There's that slick grin of hers again. You're doing a terrible job of keeping the ratio firmly in your favor.
>"Even without the proverbial train-wreck?"
>A hand is raised to your chest as you look at Rarity with faux-disgust.
"I would /never/ take satisfaction from anypony's grief."
>Her memory is crystal-clear, and she laughs at your blatant plagiarism while you chuckle.
"...Yes, /especially/ without the train-wreck."
>You reach out to rest your hand on Rarity's withers, feeling her body tense up for the briefest of seconds before relaxing.
>Rarity remains smiling as she looks at you, presumably content with the non-verbal message.
>But as the seconds tick by, it fades away little by little until she's frowning, which causes your own contentedness to vanish.
"What?"
>The unicorn shakes her head, removing her hoof from your leg for the first time in ages.
>"If you're going to start it, at /least/ finish it."
"Finish what? What the heck--"
>Your sentence is cut off as Rarity wraps both forelegs around you, embracing you in a hug.
>Oh. She's soft.
>You hesitate for a moment before following suit, keeping both arms around her back.
"I don't really /do/ hugs, y'know?"
>Rarity's voice carries from behind you, sounding disturbingly blunt.
>"Get used to it."
"Okay."
>Some time passes before Rarity speaks again, still not done with the hug.
>To be honest, you're scared to make the first move.
>"You're a terrible liar, Anonymous."
"About the hugs?"
>"...That too. I'm referring to your feeble excuse for attending the Gala."
>You scoff, gently prodding her side with a finger, which prompts her to tickle your neck.
"Who says I didn't change my mind after a while? Huh, Marshmallow? Maybe I found a /different/ reason to go."
>Finally Rarity pries herself from you, returning to her spot with a knowing smile plastered across her face.
>"Whatever reason that may be, I'm glad you came along."
>You nod, feeling far more upbeat as you lean back into the couch with a simper.
"Me too."