Rarity paced around her boutique in a tight, fixed route, huffing at each stop. First, she’d go to the door to peek out for any potential customers, and upon finding none, she would stride rightward over to her wall of fabric and rows of outfits to take in the many colors hoping for inspiration. Then, she took an immediate left, eyeing the empty calendar where no commissions or plans lay, and finally to the phone that sat on the coffee table near the door, between two stacks of magazines, a sketchbook and a stress squeezer.
The designer pulled a curl of her luscious, perfectly maintained hair and stuck it between her lips. She felt each individual strand grind against her teeth like straw as she flipped the open sign up and stared outside the door, once again finding no traffic before setting the sign back. She turned up her nose with a “Hmph!”, and wheeled back around to the textiles.
It was always what Rarity didn’t have that drove her up a wall, and right now she didn’t have a few things. No customers, despite being the best boutique in Canterlot, and arguably in the tri-city area. No commissions, despite being at the top of her field. And no plans with her friends, as they were all busy with their own lives.
Rarity frowned as she reached the end of her route and locked eyes with her phone. That was the final thing she lacked: Companionship. “What is it?” Rarity thought aloud, finally breaking the loop as she headed past the table and into her kitchen. “Is there something I lack?” She slid the hair from her mouth, letting it stick to the side of her face, caking in her high-end makeup in the process.
She didn’t even bother with the light switch on as she bee-lined for the fridge, letting the only light be whatever bled in from the other room or closed windows. “It can’t be,” her hand gripped the freezer handle and swung it open, the cold air biting at her skin, “Am I not pretty enough? Talented enough? Connected enough?” Then a thought sprung into her head as her fingers curled around a pint of chocolate-cherry ice cream, “Am I… a bad girlfriend?”
Rarity swiveled around to fetch a spoon and nearly jumped out of her skin as she felt her foot barely connect with Opal, who hissed and darted away deeper into the dark corners of the kitchen. Retrieving a spoon, as well as her breath, she wandered back into the foyer and gracelessly plopped down on the couch situated just behind the coffee table.
“That must be it,” tears welled in her eyes, threatening to take her expertly applied mascara with them, “I must be too awful of a girlfriend for anyone to want me-e-e!” And the mascara did flow.
The instant the artisan ice cream hit her tongue was the second her worries started to melt away. Sure her outfits were getting a little tight from all this comfort food, but she could always make them bigger. She needed self-care far more than a fitting ensemble or a good partner.
Besides, it’s not like anyone would be so shallow as to break up with her for not having a perfect body. Not anyone like that Prince Blueblood off of Tinder who had those dreamy eyes, and that beautiful copper-blonde hair. Not the Prince whose lips could make you forget your name when they met yours, and not those strong hands that gripped -
Rarity shook her head and plunged another spoonful of frozen divinity into her mouth. “It doesn’t matter how hot he was, even if he was… really really hot.” She cleared her throat, “It doesn’t, b-because he dumped you!” Another spoonful of bliss and another set of black-streaked tears.
“And don’t forget that even if he was amazing, he still dumped you for…” Rarity peered down and saw a depressingly pudgy stomach, bigger than it was last week, and snapped her head away, “Hmph! He’s shallow, and he’s a waste of your valuable time!” She let the cream melt in her mouth completely before gulping it down.
The pint was almost halfway done before the gravity of the situation came down on her. How shameful this would be if a customer, which she so hoped would burst through the door, walked in on this scene. Then, as quickly as it pressed down on her, the weight left.
One-quarter of the tub remained, barely any mascara remained around Rarity’s puffy, reddened eyes. “Why Pudgity can’t even spin a T-Shirt, let alone a stupid dress! Her shop should be packed from open to close, and yet her shop is empty and dead!” She took the same damp lock of hair from before and returned it to her mouth. “She should probably just quit now since her dreams are falling apart around her!” Dramatic mania gripped the last two words.
“If only,” She scooped some of the last bits of chocolate from the bottom, “Someone could come through the door who could give me an expensive commission, who could give me a date I’d never forget! Someone who’s gorgeous, and great, and available!” She gulped down the last of the dessert. “Anyone!” Rarity lazily threw the spent pint to the trash bin beside the couch, barely making it in.
And that’s precisely when Trixie walked through the door.
“Hello, Rarity,” A smug smile was plastered across Trixie’s face as she strolled through the door in her usual costume, her eyes shut and her cadence slow. It was as though she savored each word that came from her mouth. “I hope your schedule’s clear, for I have a commission that’ll—” she opened her eyes and was greeted with the scene.
Rarity’s eyes stung as they glared daggers at Trixie, dried rivers of mascara scraping against her face with every blink. She was still wearing a formal dress shirt and a fashionable pencil skirt, but the way she laid across the couch was more like a farce of a Renaissance painting than any semblance of professionalism.
“Yeesh, what happened to you?” Trixie cringed as the pneumatic door slowly hissed shut behind her.
“Take a good look, Trixie. This,” Rarity placed the back of her hand to her forehead, her voice coarse and cracked from the strain of crying, “Is the death of a career as it lay on the operating table. Dead and alone on arrival. I’m finished!”
Trixie casually reached behind her and flipped the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ without breaking eye contact. “Slow day, huh?”
Rarity sat up and jabbed a finger at the magician, “It is not just a ‘slow day.’” —She said with air quotes—“It’s been a slow week! A lonely week! Why, I should be swatting customers and prospective partners away, but look at me!” Rarity’s voice practically melted as she finished.
“Uh, no it hasn’t,” Trixie placed a hand on her hip, “I could barely even get in the door to reveal my grand idea until today. And don’t you get flirted with like, all the time? I think you’re being just a little…”
“Don’t you dare say it.” Rarity snapped.
“Dramatic.”
Rarity fell back onto the couch, letting out a series of choked sobs and heaving breaths. That term usually hurt her, but when Trixie called her dramatic, it hurt more than getting pricked by every pin in Canterlot.
Trixie rolled her eyes and sighed. She’d seen this scene dozens of times because this was always what she came into when ordering a commission. It seemed the only time she could get in that wasn’t booked, was on a slow day such as this. “Anyway, I’ve got a great and economical commission idea. You up for it?”
Rarity’s wails stopped immediately, as though she heard a magic phrase to cease her tantrum. “Commission?” She perked up. “Yes, I used to do those… back when I wasn’t a washed-up failure!”
Trixie huffed, “Rarity, I wouldn’t haul myself over here for like, the fiftieth time if you weren’t worth it — which you are. Not half as talented as me, let’s not kid ourselves, but still the only one in this city who can remotely capture my radiance.”
Rarity sniffled as she snatched a tissue from the nearby box and loudly blew her nose. “You’re too sweet,” Barely any trace of sadness clung to her words. Talking shop always hoisted Rarity out of whatever pit she was in, and compliments, even left-handed ones, only accelerated the ascent.
Trixie twirled one of her bangs, letting her eyes wander across the store’s wares and decorations, “Hm, that’s what they tell me.”
“So this ensemble,” suspicion dripped from Rarity’s voice as she scratched at the dried black streams on her face, “I presume this is the time you’re going to actually pay for it?”
Even if it was a commission and a ticket away from melancholy, it was still an infuriating Trixie commission. She wanted everything to an impossible degree of precision without ever telling you exactly what she wanted. Moreover, she would never pay in bits, opting for some piece of junk she found at the flea market or thrift store, or a hastily drawn ‘IOU.’
“I’m hurt, Rarity,” Trixie placed a hand to her chest with feigned shock, “I always pay.”
Rarity ground her teeth. Just as she had managed to chase away sadness in lieu of something productive to work on, Trixie had dragged irritation into her mind like Opalescence dragged in dead mice to the showroom floor during working hours. “In money this time.”
Trixie smacked her lips, something she knew Rarity despised, “Always the material with you, Rarity. You know, you should really appreciate the finer things in life, it’s not always about money.” The magician rolled her wrists as she sauntered over to the mirror beside the calendar and admired her reflection. “Besides, I thought you were, like, sad about being dumped by Tinder match number six-hundred-something or whatever it is this week, what happened to that?”
The condescension, that’s what really ate at Rarity. Trixie was tasting the condescension on her tongue, as though the thin fantasy of grandiosity she preoccupied herself with was real and delicious to share in that agonizingly smug voice of hers. “You’ll find, Trixie, that when you have actual responsibilities, you can set aside your emotions. And I wasn’t dumped. I’m simply… in between partners at the moment.” Rarity could feel her blood pressure rising and decided to postpone the issue. “We can discuss payment later since it’s a point of contention. What were you thinking?”
“I dunno,” Trixie mewed, exchanging sultry looks with herself in the mirror, “You’re the designer, right? You tell me.”
Rarity sunk her nails into her thighs trying to contain the fury that was quickly consuming her patience. “Would you want me to make you a suit? Another costume? A dress? Tell me something.” She said every word slowly and deliberately, as though the act of speaking were like navigating around a mine that could detonate at any time.
“Oh, that. I was thinking,” Trixie burped under her breath and kept going as though it didn’t happen, “Lingerie.”
“Oh?” Rarity raised an eyebrow and muttered under her breath. “Must be nice.”
“Oh, believe me, it is. Starlight said she wanted something to elevate my great and bountiful body, figured you’d know what to do.” Trixie was almost completely flat in every area except her personality, which was concave.
“That sounds very lovely, but could you give me a direction with it?” Rarity reached for the sketchbook and its accompanying pencil on the table and stared back at the magician through the top of her glasses.
A twinge of loneliness rendezvoused with envy in Rarity’s mind. It was always the thing she didn’t have that drove her up a wall, and in this instance, it was a partner. Here she was, completely alone, making a piece of bedroom wear that she knew Trixie was going to get a lot of use from. The thought was summarily exiled.
“Uh, hello!” Trixie faced Rarity and gestured to her body, “Plenty to work with here!”
Rarity nearly snapped her pencil but kept her cool. She’d simply have to pull a design from thin air and hope it was to Trixie’s liking, then mail Starlight the invoice when the sketch was finalized. Though, that was with her usual outfits. Lingerie was much more expensive than a simple hem or cape.
“What I meant is,” Rarity navigated around the mine again, idly tapping the eraser of her pencil against a blank page, “Are we thinking something light? Something dark? Something like a nightgown, a costume, or a more traditional corset and lace design? See-through? Stockings? Help me narrow it down.”
“Ohh!” Trixie’s face lit up, “I do like the sound of see-through, but lace is based.”
Rarity squeezed her eyes shut, “We…” With a breath, she opened her eyes again, “can do both, actually, if you’d prefer.” Rarity pushed her glasses up and eyed Trixie up and down. “I’m thinking… see-through torn leggings, and a bodysuit, both black, both up your alley, and both stunning!”
Trixie posed as Rarity examined her, basking in the attention. “Sounds hot, I like the way you think.”
“Perfect!” Inspiration surged through Rarity and pushed some of the anger out of her mind. Some frustration remained in wanting to get Trixie out of her hair, but doing so required finishing a sketch. Images of the outfit flashed through her mind, and within an instant, her hand was furiously materializing them on paper. She’d have almost forgotten that Trixie was in the same room as her if it wasn’t for the magician noisily opening a small pack of peanut butter crackers.
“You can go now, Trixie. Come back tomorrow and I’ll have the finalized design.” Rarity muttered, not taking her pencil off the page.
“Oh, for real?” Trixie said with a mouthful of cracker as she made her way towards the door, her oversized boots clunking against the tile with each step. “Thanks, Rarity, just make my boobs look big when I wear it. Ta ta.”
Rarity heaved an audible sigh as she heard the door slide open. Just as Trixie stepped foot outside, Rarity blinked and felt as though she was forgetting something. As she looked up from the almost completely filled page, it hit her.
“WAIT!” Rarity hissed, causing the magician in the doorway to almost jump out of her skin, though her crackers did leap out from their packaging, clattering to the ground in a sad pile of crumbs.
“WHAT?!?” Trixie flinched and cowered back into the boutique. “Geez, you can be really scary, you know that?”
“Payment.”
“Huh?” Trixie cocked her head.
Rarity folded her hands over her sketchbook. “I said we’d discuss payment later. It’s later now. A lady never forgets, Ms. Lulamoon.”
“Oh right,” Trixie rested a hand on her chest and panted, out of breath from being startled, “You said it’d be like 50 bits, right?”
Rarity gripped her hand at the wrist and squeezed. “It’s 500. How do you want to pay?”
Trixie let a foul smirk creep across her face as she closed the gap between them, always a dangerous sign. “How do you feel about cryptocurrency?”
“No.”
Trixie stomped, narrowly missing one of the crackers at her feet, “Well, what about exposure when I post this on my Onlyfans?”
“No.”
“What would you say to -”
“How about you pay me in a physical capacity.” Rarity tucked one of her messy purple bangs behind her ear with a trembling hand.
“Oh,” Trixie bit her lip and eyed the disheveled designer as she hooked a finger into her collar and pulled down, exposing more of her chest, “I mean, Rarity, if you wanted a piece of this, you could’ve just asked.”
Rarity felt her face get hot and grabbed her sketchbook to cover her shame “That’s not what I meant at all! I-I mean not that you’re… I don’t mean to call you... “ Rarity sucked in a deep breath. “Ahem. I meant-”
“You meant,” Trixie interjected, placing a finger on Rarity’s lips to shush her, “That I’m absolutely irresistible, and that you can no longer deny my charms. It’s whatever if you want me to be your rebound I’m game.”
Rarity grabbed Trixie’s arm at the wrist and felt composure flow back into her mind. “I meant physical, legal, tender. Money. But if you insist on taking a lady such as myself out on the town, then I can hardly resist. If you show me a good enough time, then perhaps I could waive the cost altogether.”
Trixie rolled her eyes and stifled a laugh as she pulled her arm free. “If that’s how you have to say it to be happy, whatever. I still gotta check with Starlight to see what days work for me.”
The designer heaved in an inappropriately large gasp before covering her mouth. “Oh my goodness! It completely slipped my mind! Is Starlight ok with that? I don’t mean to intrude, or pressure you into anything-”
The sound of Trixie’s teeth noisily and messily biting into a peanut butter cracker from off the ground cut Rarity off. “Geez, Rarity,” the magician said with her mouth more than full of food, “You can date more than one person at a time. It’s not the 1950’s anymore.”
“Why must you say things in the most unsavory way possible?” Rarity lifted her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“That’s what makes me so great and powerful.” Trixie gulped down a mouthful of the snack, “Anyway, I’m thinking of going out to the park on Saturday, y’know, if I’m available.”
While the prospect of a relaxing day surrounded by the serenity of nature sounded very appealing, Rarity couldn’t help but wonder how Trixie was going to soil it. “That sounds… rather lovely, actually?”
“What?” Trixie crumpled up the small package of crackers. “Where did you think I was gonna take you?”
Rarity tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, “To be positively honest, I thought you were going to escort me to some fetid back alley where we’d feast on whatever we could fight away from the rats. But the park sounds rather pleasant.”
“Wow, you know I can just stand you up?”
“Did you know I know where you keep your costumes?”
The magician made her way for the door before glancing over her shoulder, “Point taken, but it’s not like I’m some trash-dwelling goblin. I’m an acquired taste, not a rotten one.”
“You are?” Never had Rarity flirted this way, to feel fire and admiration swirling on her tongue so fluidly. It felt so… exhilarating. “Just let me know when you’re going to pick me up. And don’t be late or I will make you regret it” She said, almost singing the words.
An impossibly wide smile crept onto Trixie’s face as she made her exit, “Sure thing, babe. See you then.”
The finality of what she’d just agreed to began to fully rest upon her shoulders as the door hissed closed. This would either be the greatest date she’d ever been on, or the worst.