“Piece by piece, snip by snip

Croup, dock, haunch, shoulders, hip

Bolt by bolt, primmed and pressed

Yard by yard, always stressed

And that's the art of the dress~!”

Ugh. I feel like I’m gonna cough up another hairball. Welcome back, by the way. Remember when I said that narrating was getting to a chore for me? Well, I changed my mind. In fact, I’m going to monolouge the crap out of this week! I’LL DO ANYTHING TO GET THIS STUPID SONG OUTTA MY HEAD!

After Rarity’s friends had understood that she was willing to make their dream outfits, they had swarmed her with so many design changes and requests that she had to yell at the top of her lungs for all of them to be quiet. She then organized a schedule so that each pony could simply go to her shop one at a time, and then that particular pony could brainstorm all the ideas he/she could want.

Today’s pony was Rainbow Dash. She sauntered in with her usual amount of cockiness.

“Sup, Rarity?” she said. “Ready to get started?”

“I’m surprised that you’re so motivated about this, darling,” Rarity replied. “Maybe there IS a feminine side to you.” She gave an enthusiastic grin. “Are you ready to explore the world of fashion?”

“Actually,” said Rainbow Dash, “I just want my dress to be cool.” She paused. “And sexy. Don’t forget sexy.”

Rarity pursed her lips. “Well, where can we start?” she said, offput by the uncertainty of where this conversation was going.

“Like I said, just make it cool and sexy,” Rainbow Dash repeated. “Or, you know, sexy and cool. Whichever is fine.”

“Should we start with the color?”

“The color’s okay, just make it cool. With a touch of sexy.”

“Should we change fabric? Maybe silk instead of cotton?”

“Fabric, schmabric. Two words to remember, Rarity: Cool and sexy.”

Rarity was trying hardest to interpret what Dash was saying. “So... by ‘fabric, schmabric,’ so mean we should have less fabric? Adjusting the length to be more revealing, perhaps?”

“Look,” said Rainbow Dash, “All I want for my dress is to be cool and sexy. Isn’t there a setting on your sewing machine that just produces the maximum of both?”

“No.”

“Well, sewing machines are lame.” Dash said crossly.

“Any changes you have in mind, Pinkie Pie?” asked Rarity.

“Well, me and Pinkamena had this reeaaally long talk about how my ‘bad’ dress would either be the same as the one as the original episode-”

“Who’s Pinkamena?”

“Nevermind. Anywho, I decided that my dress should look like... this!” Pinkie said as she pulled out a crayon drawing from absolutely nowhere.

Rarity studied the sketch with growing disgust. “Pinkie... that doesn’t even look like a dress! I don’t think I even have enough rubber and spandex to make that work!”

“But spandex is fuuuun~” Pinkie whined. “Who doesn’t love the way it snuggles your rump?”

“So, Ah was thinkin’ that mah dress could come with galoshes,” suggested Applejack. “Ya know, in case it rains.”

...WHAT.

NO.

SERIOUSLY, NO.

NOPONY IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD WANT THAT WITH A GOWN.

THE GALA ISN’T EVEN OUTSID-

“Alright,” sighed Rarity, letting four hundred years of fashion die a little. “Let’s see what we can do with... galoshes.”

”So, what should we start with, Trixie?” said Rarity.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie’s dress must have gold chains strewn in it,” ordered Trixie.

“Got it.”

“And it must be longer, so it drags wherever Trixie walks.”

“Longer. I can do longer.”

“And it must have a servant to carry the part that drags, so the dress doesn’t get dirty.”

“Um... I don’t think I can-”

“And the dress must have wings.”

“Wings?”

“Artificial wings. So Trixie can look like an alicorn.”

“Well, I can certainly attach some wings-”

“With neon lighting, please.”

“-But you’re on your own about the servant. Got that?”

“Oh, the servant will be no problem. You can be the one to carry it. Of course, you’ll have to say please first.”

The doctor’s said that Trixie could stop eating out of a straw after a couple days, so I suppose she’ll be fine. Rarity might even apologize for the broken jaw.

This time, Fluttershy came over. The good news is that she’s one of Rarity’s friends that actually knows a thing or two about fashion. The bad news is that Fluttershy wrote down a list of things wrong with her dress as long as the Amarezon River.

As Rarity reviewed the list with bloodshot, sleep-deprived eyes, she made some small talk with her butter-yellow friend.

“So, how are things with your animals?” asked Rarity.

“It’s nice,” said Fluttershy coyly.

“And the new batch of bunnies? How are they doing?”

“Nice,” Fluttershy repeated.

“And Angel? How’s he?”

“Nice.”

“And your relationship with Dusk?” Rarity slipped in.

“Nic-Oh, I’d rather not talk about that,” said her visitor, backing away slowly.

Rarity lifted her head slowly from her workbench, eyeing Fluttershy carefully. “Why’s that?” she asked, seemingly innocent.

“Um, because it’s sorta technically none of your business, if you don’t mind,” mumbled Fluttershy. She really didn’t drive her point across.

“None of my business?” scowled Rarity. “Why? Has something changed?”

“C-can we stop talking about this?”

“Okay, let’s discuss something else,” Rarity said sternly, not changing the mood in the slightest. “Where were you last Friday? I went to your house that day, and nopony was there.”

“...”

“I went to Dusk’s house after that,” she continued, “but guess what? He wasn’t home either. SO, WHERE WERE YOU TWO?”

“I really think we should keep it down to our indoor voices,”

“Fluttershy, if there’s something you’re hiding, just tell me.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“Well... no, I kind of promised myself to keep it a secret.”

“Keep what a secret?”

“Please stop asking me these questions.”

“Tellmetellmetellmetellmetellmetellmetellmeeee!!!”

And that’s when the dam burst.

*GASP*“Dusk and I went on a date but I swear nothing happened but I said yes to a second date and I’m sorry and we’re going to see The Host next Friday even though the reviews for it are terrible because it’s the only date movie out right now and I’m sorry and he’s been really really really nice to me and I’m sorry and I get lost in his eyes sometimes and I’m sorry and I’ve never felt this way about a colt before and I’m sorry butIthinkI’minlove!”

Rarity could only stare with her mouth agape. The only sound in the room was Fluttershy’s heavy breathing. On one hoof, Rarity could punch Fluttershy into next week. On the other hoof, it was Fluttershy that we were talking about here. She’s as frail as a dandelion. Nopony could really even insult her without at least feeling guilty about it. Rarity was effectively landlocked. Her worst enemy was her best friend.

“...Go,” said Rarity coldly, holding back tears. “Get out of my store.”

Ooo, this just started to get goooood. I’m gonna need some popcorn. In the meantime, why don’t I get back to my story with Clover?

The largest and closest city to the humble village Merryweather grew up in was called Tondown Abbey, and I soon learned it was the central station for all the 1% that loved nothing more than kissing Celestia’s flanks. The stone-paved roads all lead to a clamoring marketplace, where traveling salesponies tried to sell all sorts of trinkets to the wealthy locals and dim-witted tourists.

As I promised my precious ‘father,’ I changed my name. It was now a more proper name of my suiting, Treasure Cove. I know it didn’t seem like it matched my current cutie mark, but that‘s actually quite common. Lots of parents name their foals in hopes of determining their future careers, and sometimes it doesn’t go so well. I once knew a rebellious rockstar named Brain Surgeon back in the day.

I spent nearly all my bits on opening a small jewelry stand, trying my best to make it expensive-looking as possible. Pretty soon, I had my first customer: The fattest, snobbiest, richest unicorn in town: Madame Ruzzletop.

The day that I met her, Ruzzletop was wearing a humungous black fur coat that did the impossible feat of covering all of her flabby body. She was a widow, having recently gained her late husband’s booming hat-selling business. Her wide-brimmed hat was a spring green, giving her the look that she was a morbidly obese toad that decided to put a lily-pad on top of her head.

“Hello, ma’am,” I said, grabbing her attention. “Would you like to buy some accessories to go with that astounding figure of yours?”

She waddled over, awe-ing over the bits and pieces of jewellery that I had on display. “How much are these pearls?” she said with the classic Canterlot accent. (Of course, Canterlot hadn’t been built yet. The city simply adopted the accent.)

“Oh, those are just cheap fakes,” I dismissed with a wave of my hoof. I reached from under the counter, pulling out Clover’s braclet. “This is much more fitting for a mare of your stature.”

“Oh?” she said, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “And what, pray tell, is that?”

“That,” I said with a smirk, “is the only thing that survived the downfall of the Crystal Empire.”

“The Crystal Empire?!” she replied with a sharp intake of breath. “I read all about that in the newspaper. The Royal Pony Sisters overthrew the tyrant king, but the entire kingdom disappeared before it could be saved. How in the name of Celestia’s nonexistent beard did you retrieve that??”

“Well, I’d tell you, but then THEY would find me,” I hinted ominously.

“They?”

“That’s not important right now,” I said, driving her attention away the details. “What’s important is that I’m selling you a bracelet from a place that doesn’t exist anymore, and that it’s got a one-of-a-kind gemstone infused in it. I’m not going to be in town tomorrow (because THEY are already on my trail), so it’s very important that you need to buy this right now while my offer still stands.”

“Deal!” Ruzzletop says enthusiastically, nodding her head so fast that her nine chins are practically flapping like wings. “Let me just try it on to see it fits and then-OH!” Her eyes glazed over as the soul gem’s magic took effect. Clover shook herself awake and looked at me.

“This was the best body you could find?” she said with disgust.

“It was the wealthiest one,” I smiled. If anypony was watching, they didn’t suspect a thing. “Now, let’s find the way back to your estate, ‘Madame Ruzzletop.’ I hear that you’re looking for a new maid for your mansion, and I believe it’s time for me to make a career change.” My grin grew wider. “Who knows? You might even promote me all the way up to being your business partner.”

There have been entire books written on the concept of living forever. They say that it is a fool’s errand to pursue it. It’s also commonly said that once accomplished, a pony could be driven to madness from all the tedious years of pointless existence. Celestia and Luna were once asked about this, and they said that their mother taught them specific mental training exercises in order to fend off boredom and insanity, and that they still don’t recommend the typical pony chasing the dream of eternity.

That’s all bullshit.

The truth is, Clover and I never got that bored. In fact, immortality can pay off in the later years. We took over business after business, company after company, right up until we were filthy, stinking rich. And when we got old? We just signed our wills to leave everything to our youngest relative, plus a certain piece of jewelry under the name of a ‘family heirloom.’

Oh, now I know what you’re thinking. “Ponies need companionship to survive, Platinum! You can’t just live forever with just one pony as your friend. What about romance? What about the family life? Can you honestly tell us that you’ve never met that one stallion that every girl dreams about, and that you stood and watched as he grew old and died? Can you bear the torture and depression of outliving all of your loved ones? Surely, you must be riddled with angst from being deprived of a normal life!”

Also bullshit.

In truth, I actually met the true love of my life. Loves of my lifes, to be grammatically accurate. Fifteen perfect marriages so far, in case you were wondering. They were all such lovely gentlecolts. I cherished my time with all of them, and of course I was sad when they died. It’s only natural. But you know what? I moved on. You know, like a normal pony? Don’t tell me that you’re still mourning over your grandma’s death that happened ten years ago. It’s not that different. Sure, you were sad about it back then, but then you accept it and you get on with your life. (In truth, their deaths were more times of a relief than a burden. I said I had fifteen PERFECT marriages, and I've simply lost track of the terrible brutes I’ve said “I do” to.)

As of the family life, Clover and I both had multiple children each. Armfuls of them, actually. Raising spoiled-to-death fillies and colts was a little hectic at first, but it wasn’t worst obstacle that we came across. Once and awhile, we got a legitimately warm feeling in our hearts when we saw our foals playing with each other. And yes, they died too. Same thing as the romantic stuff. If you’re really pressing it, maybe it was a little harder to see them go.

Anyway, my point is that living forever was ironically underrated from our perspective. The world changed around us, ever evolving, and we happily evolved with it. The best part: We never got caught.

Well, except that one time.

...

I don’t wanna talk about it.

...

Look, let’s just say that it’s a dark place that I don’t like to go to. It wasn’t exactly a fond memory.

...

I’ll never forget you, Clover. *sniff* We had a good run...

...

I said, I don’t wanna talk about it. Seriously. Stop asking me. And quit looking at me like that! I don’t need your pity.

...

Tell you what: Let’s just skip to the part where I got stuck as a cat, okay?

I can’t exactly give you the details of what goes on around me when I’m not possessing a body, but I gathered enough info to tell you what happened. Of course, you’ve probably guess the general idea of what went down by now.

My choker was sitting in the window of an old antique shop, gathering dust. No, I don’t know how I got there. The last thing I remember from back then was going to sleep in my personal manor under the name ‘Karat Gold.’ My guess is that I was stolen by some burglar, who then pawned it to the shop owner.

Anyway, whom better to drop in than Little Miss Prissypants herself, Rarity the She-Demon? Apparently, either the salepony or Rarity thought that my choker was a very wide and fancy cat collar, and the next thing I know, I’m a kitten.

Of course, the thought of escaping never leaves my mind. I’ve plotted several ways to get Rarity to at try on the choker (or at least somehow attach it on her while she’s sleeping), but I’m constantly thwarted by one simple detail: Taking off the choker requires either unicorn magic or opposable thumbs. For those of you that fail biology class, cats have neither of those things. Thus, the only time Rarity takes the choker off is Opal’s bathtime, in which it placed on the windowsill. I am powerless.

And alone.

...I miss you so much, Clover. You’d know exactly what to do.

...You know what? That’s enough about me for today. Back to that thing that’s been going on with Rarity.

Dusk Shine walks into Carousel Boutique. Rarity is staring out a nearby window, watching the rain trickle outside.

“Hello, Dusk,” she says.

“Hi Rarity, I’m here about my suit,” he says benevolently.

“We’re not going to talk about the suit,” she snaps quickly.

Dusk is confused. “Are we going to talk about your fight with Trixie?” he guesses.

“No,” says Rarity. “I’ve already paid her medical bills in full and you convinced her not to press charges. That should be enough.”

“Well, what are we going to talk about?”

She glares at him with eyes like laser sights. “I suppose we can talk about a lot of things,” she growls. “We can talk about Fluttershy...”

Dusk gulps.

“...We can talk about how you’ve been spending your time lately...”

Dusk starts to back away.

“...We can talk about how you’ve carelessly stomped on my heart...”

Dusk lunges for the door, but it’s already locked.

“...We can talk about how much I’ve tried to make you happy...”

“Rarity, before you do anything rash...”

“...We can talk about the countless dreams I’ve had of our future together that you’ve killed today...”

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘countless dreams’...”

“But do you REALLY want to know what I want to talk about? Do want to know the subject that’s been running through my mind over and over?” challenges Rarity, so close now that the two ponies are nose-to-nose.

“Why.”

The word is more of a statement than a question. Dusk is speechless.

“Why her?” she continues, her voice finally cracking from the unfallen tears. “Why her and not me? What was wrong with having me instead? Was I really that awful of a choice? Did I push too hard? Is that it? ‘Oh, I don’t want to end up with Rarity. She’s too demanding. She wants me to whisk her away into a life of joy and love! That’s just TOO MUCH to ask of me, the high and mighty student of Celestia that can do anything he wants! I’ll stick with Fluttershy. She’s too much of a doormat to want ANYTHING from me!!!’ IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK?!?!?!”

“Rarity, stop,” says Dusk.

“Oh, what’s this? Dusk Shine want ME to stop talking? Why, I must be so honored for him to come down from his ivory tower to speak to me, the lowly fashion designer from the humdrum town of Ponyville! Who, by the way, WORKED HER FLANKS OFF FOR THE OUTFITS OF SIX TERRIBLE FRIENDS THAT NEVER EVEN SAID SO MUCH AS ‘THANK YOU!!!’”

“Rarity, please stop.”

“WHY?”

“Because I never want to see you this unhappy again,” says Dusk intensely.

"..."

“Special somepony or not, I never want anypony to feel this bad because of me,” he continues. “I know that you love me, I understand that. I’m also in love, so I know how it feels.

“But hear me now: I am not going to leave any of my friends so broken-hearted. That’s what you are to me, Rarity. You’re my friend. Friends don’t let friends feel this bad about anything, not even toward each other. Wait, scratch that, we’re more than friends. We never were ‘just friends’ from day one. But at the same time, we couldn’t get past that. All I know is that things won’t be normal between us. Look, I’m sorry that I rejected you, and maybe our friendship will suffer because of that. I may not be in love with you, but I don’t want you in pain.”

Rarity wasn’t trying to hold back tears anymore. She was flat-out sobbing now. Her mascara is running like a river of black. Dusk opens his arms to hug her in an apologetic fashion, and she complies. They just sit like that for ten minutes straight, all the time with Rarity crying her eyes out. Finally, the tears dry out, she stands up straight.

“Thank you Dusk, I needed that,” she says in that shaky voice that you use after a good cry.

This tender moment was interrupted by the the cruel hoof of fate when Spike decided to barge into the building.

“Hey Rarity, guess wha-Hey, have you been crying?”

Rarity pulls out a personally-made handkerchief and begins to dab out her mascara. “Could you give us a minute, Spike? This is grown-up talk.”

Not to be defied, Spike puffs out his chest in the most masculine way he can manage. “I’m a grown-up too, you know.”

“You’re a baby dragon,” Dusk reminds him. “How many times do we have to go over that?”

“Well, Rarity’s been crying and I wanna know why,” the lovestruck dragon insists. Then, he puts two and two together. “Wait, did you tell her about last Friday?”

“He didn’t tell me, found out,” Rarity points out. “And I’d appreciate that you’d keep what you’ve seen here our little secret.”

“You know,” Spike said smoothly, “I’d be happy to help you on the rebound if you’d-”

“Why did you come here, exactly?” Rarity interrupts, changing the subject.

“Oh!” spike recalls, “I just happened to bump into Hoity Toity, that big hot shot from Canterlot that your magazines are always talking about. I told him how beautiful your work is, and I convinced him to book a fashion show right here in Ponyville, starring the outfits you’ve made for the whole gang!”

Oh no.

“Erm... really?” says Rarity unsurely. “Hoity Toity wants to see... those outfits?”

“What?” Dusk questions, “What’s wrong with the outfits?”

Rarity bit her lip. “Umm... nothing! Nothing at all. Can’t wait to get to that fashion show. When is that?”

“This evening, after sundown,” says Spike.

“Great!” says Dusk. “That gives us just enough time for us to make the changes to my suit.”

Author’s Note: For obvious reasons, I couldn’t find fanart of Trixie wearing a super-long dress; fake, neon-lit alicorn wings; and a broken jaw cast all at once.

Also, you are now obligated to comment below if you’ve said, “But I’ve already favorited this story, Pinkie!” out loud.

The crowd of ponies were disgusted, and that’s putting it lightly. Vomiting sounds could be heard all around. I watched with Rarity from behind the curtains. Her companions’ faces slowly turned to looks of dawning horror as they became aware of the piss-poor approval rating of their ‘custom wear.’

Hoity Toity, however, doesn’t speak at all. He silently goes up and starts to walk backstage. Rarity has noticed this and has already started to panic.

“Oh my gosh, he’s coming over here?” she says, hyperventilating. “What does he want? Did he actually hate the designs so much that he wants to scold me? Oh no, he’s going to take away my fabulousity license, isn’t he? He’ll call the fashion police on me and I’ll be forced to live a life in exile! I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO PACK FOR EXILE!”

By this time, Hoity Toity was ten paces away. “Are you the designer for these clothes?” he asks. His voice seems to be nasally and nonchalant, as if he was stuck all his life in a permanent unimpressed mood.

Rarity hangs her head low in acceptance. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“May I speak to you in private?” he requests.

“Of course,” Rarity agrees. “I mean, why would we want to further humiliate me in public?”

Again, Hoity Toity is silent. He simply makes his way to the dressing room, and we follow. When we’re alone, his attitude turns a complete 180.

“That was fantastic!” he exclaims.

“I beg your pardon?”

“My dear, your designs were completely original,” he says, wildly shaking her hoof in congratulations. “I’ve never seen something so... so.. so artistic!~ It’s like you took those models and poured their souls out to the crowd with absolutely NO REGARD for social standards!

“But... but... I used galoshes...”

“Of course you used galoshes,” he says with a gleaming smile. “What else could be such an accurate metaphor for the struggle and hardships of the working class? I’m surprised I didn’t come up with that myself!”

“...But the audience hated them...”

Hoity Toity laughed heartedly. “Because your ideas are that underground, darling! Trust me, if your outfits were shown to the anti-mainstream crowd, they’d be tearing each other apart to get just one of your works!”

Rarity blinked. “So... you’re saying that you actually like them?”

“I’d wear that suit myself.”

By now, Rarity finally caught on started to get the right attitude. “Well, I couldn’t accomplish my greatest pieces ever without the help of my friends, now could I? So, how’s about we call Canterlot Weekly, hm?”

“A splendid idea,” nods Hoity Toity. “Here’s my card. Call my secretary as soon as you can. Baby, you’re going to be on the front page!” He starts to head out, but he stops himself. “Oh, and one more thing before I go...”

“Yes?”

“Can I buy off that choker?”

“Say again?”

“That choker. On your cat. How much are you willing to part with it?”

Wait, what? Me?

“Well, Opal’s had that since I was a little-”

“How’s 10,000 bits sound?”

Rarity’s jaw drops simultaneously with mine.

“It’s a small exchange for you remember me by,” he says coolly.

“Uhh... certainly!” Rarity says after a moment of pause. “I mean, this collar has been sort of a small souvenir of the first time I got a cat... but that’s a LOT of money! May I ask why?”

“Oh, I’m planning on giving it as gift to a friend of mine,” he vaguely explains. “You see, I want to give her something that matches my bracelet.” He removes one of his cuffs and shows us the impossible.

It’s... her! It’s really her! I thought that she died! I saw her soul gem crushed to shards before my very eyes, but she’s alive! Oh this is the happiest day of-*CLICK*

TR̵͈ͬ̔ͅA̴̤̙̣̍N͚̗͙̠̣ͬ̐̀S̱͚̲ͣM͖̬̦̣̖͋I̒̓̄ͯ̅͑ͧ͘S̭͈̤ͮ̍́̐Ş̙̠͙̲ͥ̀̿͑ͤ̏̔ͅI͕͙ͤO̙͗N͂͟ ͇͇̜̼͎̿͐͊͊ͤE̤͓͇̊ͥͫ̔͌͋̈́͠R̖̟̫ͣͭͤ̀Ṙ̶̜̫̙O̹̬̰̠̗̐ͥ̃̈͆̂̿͘ͅR̙͋͗ͭ̋̐̓͛͘.̼̣̪̦͇̜̹͠ ͣ̂̈̒̃̍͋҉̗͓̳̦̭ŞO̷͈̩͚ͮͪ͑̏͒̚U̳̓̈̂ͨ͞Ḽ̥ͅ ̻̘̙̣̻̯̫͠G̣̽Ȇ̳̹͇͈̱̰M̗͎̻͓̈́͊͂ ҉͚̪͓͙R̸̫̘̥̥̉͛͒͊͗͗̾ͅͅE̴̲̗̤̹͔̥̾̔́ͅM͕̜̻̾̐̓Ô͕͓͕͓̟̙̻V̆͏̝Ė̡ͩͥͫ̚D͍͍̈́̿͆̋̎.̴̫͇ͫ̓ͩͧ͆̑

Author's Notes:

Quote form last chapter:

“I refuse to leave one of my subjects so heartbroken.”-Celestia

Quote from this chapter:

““But hear me now: I am not going to leave any of my friends so broken-hearted.”-Dusk Shine

Sorry that I couldn’t fit in the 20% cooler joke. And not explaining whatever the hell happened to Clover. Lastly, I have three parting words for the next chapter ahead:

FEELING.

PINKIE.

KEEN.