It was Tuesday night, meaning Rarity was taking her weekly trip to Canterlot. She was walking through the long, dark alleyways looking for a homeless pony to give a makeover to. Sure, they usually complained about “food” or “drugs,” but Rarity was smart enough to know better. The only things they could possibly need were a nice set of clothes and a haircut. After all, one can’t expect to get a job looking like a bum.
She passed by a familiar dumpster, one that usually housed a pegasus stallion named Fuhkyoo Krayzeebitch. He didn’t look Neighponese, so Rarity was initially surprised by his odd name.
For the past month or so, Fuhkyoo has been the target of Rarity’s generosity. He would often run from her on sight, clearly shy around such a beautiful mare as she. On the odd week that he was too poor and unfashionable to fly away, Rarity would catch up to him and give a much needed lecture on his questionable preening habits. She would then dress him up in the suit of his choice of color—he always chose Police Top and Whimey, both beautiful shades of blue. Unfortunately, he never seemed to keep the suits, since they were always gone the next time she visited.
Rarity pushed such unfashionable thoughts from her mind as she knocked gently on the side of Fuhkyoo’s dumpster.
“Yoohoo~!” she called. “Are you home, Fuhkyoo?”
“No, fuck you, crazy bitch!” was the immediate reply. Rarity felt silly. She often forgot that he preferred to be addressed by his full name.
“My mistake, darling,” she admitted, for she was just that humble. “I’ll try to remember next time.”
“There ain’t gon’ be a next time!” Fuhkyoo Krayzeebitch leapt from the dumpster, scattering bottles and bits of refuse around him as he landed in front of Rarity. “I ain't dealin’ wit yer shit no more!” he exclaimed rather aggressively before smashing a bottle against the ground.
Rarity watched in passive amusement, accustomed to his odd greetings by now. She decided to play along, as she always does. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, darling,” she replied, trying to hide her playful smirk behind a hoof.
Fuhkyoo didn’t say anything in response, instead opting to explain by showing her his bottle. Unfortunately, his sense of balance was dreadfully unfashionable. He appeared to have tripped, his flailing hooves driving the jagged glass straight into the side of Rarity’s throat. He then turned and quickly flew off into the night, embarrassed by his display of clumsiness.
Rarity was stunned briefly from the shock of having her throat torn open, but she recovered once she realized that she wouldn’t be able to help Fuhkyoo this week. Saddened by this turn of events, she slowly retraced her steps through the alley, pondering what she could do now that her target of generosity was gone. As the warm, red liquid dripped down her chest, an idea struck her—she could donate blood! She was appalled at herself for not thinking of such a brilliant idea sooner. Donating blood meant she could potentially help many ponies at once, with almost no effort on her part.
But she was bleeding. She was losing blood she could be donating! Spurred into action, Rarity began galloping to Canterlot General Hospital. Along the way, she began to worry she wouldn’t have enough blood to donate by the time she got there. She needed to get her wound sealed up now.
“Rarity, you’re hurt!” a familiar voice called from a nearby building. “What happened?!”
Turning to her left, Rarity saw Twilight Sparkle staring at her in shock from an open doorway.
Sprinting up to the mortified alicorn, Rarity began gesturing frantically to her neck. “Twilight! I need you to heal me, quickly!”
Twilight shook off her panic, immediately casting a spell that stitched the torn flesh back together.
“Oh, thank you so much, Twilight,” Rarity sighed. “You have no idea how much I needed that.”
“I can sort of guess,” Twilight breathed, staring at the soggy, pink fur on Rarity’s throat and chest. “What in Celestia’s holy light happened to you?”
“There’s no time to explain, darling. I need to use your shower.”
“You need to get to the hospital! Look at how much blood you lost!”
“That’s precisely my point, darling. I can’t go to the hospital looking like this!”
Twilight’s face slowly fell into an expression of disbelief. She was clearly upset at herself for not realizing how dire Rarity’s emergency was. Blood was one thing, but showing up in public looking less than perfect? Rarity suppressed a shudder at the thought.
“I... You know what?” Twilight deadpanned. “Go ahead. Bathroom is down the hall and to the right.”
Rarity was inside before she finished talking.
Her shower was fashionably brief, just long enough to wash the stains out. Twilight didn’t ask any more questions; she was busy calming down her parents who had just watched a bloody unicorn run across their living room.
When Rarity was finished drying off her coat (her mane and tail were thankfully untouched by the blood), Twilight promptly teleported them both to the hospital. After she explained the situation in minimal detail, Rarity was carted off to the back.
“I really don’t think all this is necessary. I’m just donating blood.”
The wheelchair slowed to a halt.
“Wait, donating?” the nurse echoed. “Your friend said you needed a blood transfusion!”
“She likes to use big words whenever she can,” Rarity waved a hoof dismissively. “Trust me, I’m just here to donate.”
“...Huh. Well, this is awkward,” the nurse chuckled.
“It’s fine, darling. Mistakes happen.”
The nurse began pushing Rarity down a new hallway at a much more relaxed pace. “Do you know what blood type you are?” she asked.
“O negative.”
“Wonderful! That’s the perfect type for donating, since anyone can receive it. Do you drink or smoke, and have you ever had a sexually transmitted disease?”
“No, no, and no.”
“Alrighty then, you’re all set to donate!" She wheeled Rarity into a small room and began scribbling on a clipboard. Once she was finished with that, she grabbed a needle, disinfected a patch on Rarity’s foreleg, and counted to two before sticking it in.
Rarity died later that night when she passed out from unfashionably low blood levels and fell off of Canterlot. It was a terrible tragedy that was completely unpreventable. Over the following year, Canterlot experienced a mass outbreak of AIDS. One doctor suggested that there may have been a contaminated blood bag, but he was quickly fired and called hurtful names by everyone who saw him. With no other explanations available, the public, as always, blamed the newest generation. They assumed the youth of today were too “cool” for safe sex, causing AIDS to spread like wildfire. New policies were soon enacted to provide better sexual education classes in Canterlot schools.