Sweetie Belle Learns Rarity Is Trans

by cookiefonster

2. A Dissatisfied Colt

The five-year-old son of a hoofball coach and a quality inspector at a cookie factory, Rarity had taken an interest in the design of things since he learned to talk. The colors of the walls at school, the mane styles of his teachers, the decor in his bedroom... his mind would brim with ideas to make them look more appealing, but he never quite knew how.

One thing he did catch onto was how ponies styled their manes. He would watch each morning as his mother gelled her hair, pulled most of it up in a bun, and meticulously combed it till she looked satisfied. It was a good thing Mom always left the door wide open, even if Rarity found it strange to have such little concern for privacy. It meant that Rarity could take a shot at styling his own mane, which he was doing right now. Shouldn’t a pony like him get to have something other than a short buzz cut each day? His hair was starting to get a little longer, and maybe with the right amount of gel, he could make it stand out.

Rarity took his mother’s bottle of hair gel, popped off the lid, and poured the whole thing on his face. With that, he was ready to experiment.

As a first attempt, he combed his hair perfectly flat and smooth, then looked in the mirror and smiled. Hmm... looks a little boring, he thought.

He moved a small portion of his emerging bangs to the left side of his forehead, and the rest of the bangs to the right. Still not that great. Swapping the left and right sides didn’t do much better.

Then he played with the top of his hair and used the gel to shape it into spikes. Would this look avant-garde? he thought. “Avant-garde” was a phrase he heard a few grown-ups use and was moderately sure he knew what it meant. With this new style, he looked in the mirror and stuck out his tongue. Why was this so hard to get right? Why did every mane style look wrong to him? Maybe he just had to try a few more—

Rarity’s dad knocked on the door. “You done in there, son? You better hurry up, or you’ll be late for school!”

Oh, right! School! Rarity scampered out of the bathroom only to bump into both his parents.

“Hey, Rarity. Did you just use up your mom’s expensive hair gel? Your mane looks as shiny as a fish from Canterlot on a warm spring day!” Dad chuckled, ever so eager to discuss his odd side hobbies.

Rarity gulped. “I... well...”

“It’s okay, dearie,” said Mom. “Rarity, you did a splendid job styling your hair to look sharp and spiky. We’re both so proud of you!”

“Uh... thanks, Mom?” To be honest, Rarity thought his hair style looked hideous, but he couldn’t help feeling joyed inside that others enjoy it.

“And we’re really pleased that you learned how to open a bottle of hair gel,” said Dad. “Some ponies never learn that skill in their entire lives!” He turned to face Mom. “Now tell me, honey. How do you screw the lid off one of those things again?”

Mom laughed. “Don’t mind him, son. He’s just being silly. Now off you go to school!”

Rarity walked out the door and rubbed his hooves on his face, trying to get as much excess gel off as he could. Someday, he’d find a hairstyle that would impress his class. Maybe a bowl cut could be next? Or an undercut might be fun to try. Ooh, now a crop top wouldn’t be too bad.

---

“Uh, Rarity?” said Sweetie Belle. “I think you’ve listed plenty of hair styles by now.”

“Oh, oh! Now a mohawk would look oh so marvelous on a stallion!” Rarity giggled and squished her cheeks between her hooves.

“Rarity, you can stop now!”

“Buh... uh... what?” Rarity looked around her and remembered her surroundings. “Oh, I’m sorry, Sweetie Belle. Do you want me to quit telling my story? If you’re bored of it, then I understand. I probably prattle on about my troubles too much for your liking anyway.”

Sweetie Belle smiled. “No, this is really interesting! I just didn’t want you to get too distracted, that’s all.”

“Oh, that’s such a relief. Now, hm... where was I?” Rarity cleared her throat, then continued.

---

Art class was always Rarity’s favorite part of school. It was his opportunity to express himself, to bask in the spotlight as he showed the world what he was made of. By “the world”, he really meant “his class”, but a boy could dream big, right? One day, everypony else would surely recognize his creative genius.

Today’s lesson in art class was on character design, and an idea burst into Rarity’s head. Entering full concentration with his eyes glued onto the paper, he pulled out a set of crayons and drew a beautiful alicorn princess with a smooth white coat, a flowing purple mane with a few curls on each side, a tail coiled up in a spiral, and a coy, confident smile that could charm even the stuffiest stallion. Hailing from Canterlot, a magnificent city Rarity could only dream of setting hoof in, this lady would be a masterful dress designer, but also a capable fighter who blasts bad guys with her alicorn magic. Rarity finished his drawing after five minutes, while all the other foals were still hard at work, and he couldn’t take his eyes off it. The artwork looked so perfect and gorgeous... wait, did he forget to shade those eyes? He fixed that quickly, then spent the next half hour scanning the art over and over in search of any other issues.

After half the class presented their designs, now came Rarity’s turn to showcase his art. He held his drawing high above his head and grinned widely. “Fillies and colts, I present to you, um...” WAIT! Rarity never came up with a name for this character. “Uh... her name is... The... Magic Mare!” He resumed the confident tone he had rehearsed in his head. “She’s a beautiful princess straight from the beautiful buildings of Canterlot and will make a beautiful outfit for anypony brave enough to say a single word to this beauty. Also, she blasts beautiful magic out of her sharp horn.”

The other classmates stared blankly. Hmm... did I say “beautiful” too many times? Rarity thought.

He paused for a few moments, looking around the room. His front legs were starting to strain from holding up the artwork. Oh, if only he could figure out how to lift things with his horn.

“So... do you guys like it?”

One of his classmates finally spoke up. “Well... since you’re a boy, I thought you’d wow us with a cool superhero dude who smashes things with his muscles. I didn’t think you’d make something so girly.” The other colts in the class muttered in agreement.

Rarity’s eye twitched. “So what? Just because I’m a boy, it means I can’t draw a lady once in a while? Is that it?”

“No, your art is great!” said a filly in the class. Rarity grinned. “I really like the, um... colors on his horn?” Rarity set his art down and switched to a droopy frown. He could tell when a compliment was sincere, and this wasn’t it. “Look, you’re still my favorite artist in the class! I just thought you would’ve made something cooler for this project, since your art is always so cool.”

Rarity sighed and plopped his face onto the desk, barely listening through the rest of the art class. After class, all he could think about was how this cool idea for a character wasn’t so great after all. He was the last to walk out the room and crumbled the paper, throwing it in the trash can once nopony else could see him.

Wait. As embarrassed as he was today, it never felt right to discard a work of art entirely. He took the crumbled paper out of the trash and hid it in the bottom of his saddlebag. When he arrived home, he left the crumbled paper on the desk by his bed, letting it remain there as a reminder of what not to do in class.

Something felt off about how others saw Rarity, but he couldn’t place what.

Comments

[Mystic Sunrise]

Well, this is a contrived way to explain why Rarity is so different from the rest of her family. Meh 😐.

[cookiefonster]

11382685
That isn't really the point of this fic. I am writing this story because I find this headcanon as a whole interesting, not just to explain a few oddities about Rarity's backstory.

[Bicyclette]

The five-year-old son of a hoofball coach and a quality inspector at a cookie factory, Rarity had taken an interest in the design of things since he learned to talk.

aww that does make sense as their parents’ jobs

Would this look avant-garde? he thought. “Avant-garde” was a phrase he heard a few grown-ups use and was moderately sure he knew what it meant.

hehe that is what kid Rarity would think

Uh, Rarity?” said Sweetie Belle. “I think you’ve listed plenty of hair styles by now.”
“Oh, oh! Now a mohawk would look oh so marvelous on a stallion!” Rarity giggled and squished her cheeks between her hooves.

“Rarity, you can stop now!”

very Rarity tangent, love it

Hailing from Canterlot, a magnificent city Rarity could only dream of setting hoof in, this lady would be a masterful dress designer, but also a capable fighter who blasts bad guys with her alicorn magic.

aww, Rarity describing her future self!

[cookiefonster]

11653346
Wow, it's always fun when someone comments on your fic in detail! I felt I had to make some stuff up about Rarity's parents and since there wasn't much to work with, I based it on their cutie marks.