It's All about the Quality Invested, Baby
~It's All about the Quality Invested, BaBy~
~Ø~
"There's no reason for anyone to be harmed here, Rarity." Spike stepped down from the staircase into the hub of the library. He rose his claws into the air and froze them into place. "I'm going to slowly drop my trusty feather duster, and at the same time, I want you to do the same with the typewriter, okay?"
The dragon looked onward to the center of the room to where the love of his life stood. Her breaths, once being delicate things to his heat that could lull him to sleep, were now horrific pants for air that caused for him to have nightmares later that night. "Because I think we're in agreeance that we don't want to forfeit our lives for a really, really silly reason."
Rarity stood on trembling hind legs with her forehooves shaking just above her head. Her every shifting step had a soft sway to it, as the forehooves holding the clunky typewriter above her head began to buckle. Despite the current incident rendering a sheen to her otherwise pristine white coat, the unicorn still managed to be taken aback by the dragon's statement. “How could any of this be considered silly, Spike!?”
The aforementioned dragon's tail erected in shock as its owner attempted to gulp back the shiver crawling up his throat. "Because destroying Twilight's typewriter because you didn't get featured in a magazine seems like a silly thing to do?"
Rarity continued to gulp down the air as well as the dragon's words, her pupils growing back to their normal size. "But...it is isn't just any magazine...it's my faviourite magazine!"
"Yeah, whatever." Spike dropped his claws to his side as his head fell left. "Can you please just put down the typewriter for now?"
Rarity squinted her eyes on the dragon as her body began to sway from the weight of the typewriter, trying slowly to back away without just outright falling and feeling the true weight of the thing on her face. She felt something concrete press into her flank, causing her to twirl around ever so slowly and begin to bend her legs. The shadow of the typewriter loomed over the wooden table placed in the center of the room, shrinking in size in correlation to every inch Rarity was able to lower her legs.
A light thump resounded off the surrounding oaks walls as the typewriter was placed on the table, though it never left the alabaster hooves grasp as their owner looked back at the dragon in the room. "You should know better than to talk lightly of a lady's aspirations, Spikey."
'And you should know better than to barge into your friend's home and threaten to break their typewriter when they're not home.' Spike had to bite his tongue to prevent the thought from escaping his lips, as he prepared something else that actually stood a chance at alleviated the situation. "My bad, Rarity. But can you tell me exactly what happened, and why it made you so bitchy—I mean angry?"
Rarity narrowed her eyes on the dragon.
The said dragon gulped at realizing his grave mistake.
The typewriter inched off the table ever so slightly, its scraping against the wood being heard well by the ears of the dragon. He understood the gesture; that he was on very thin ice now, and one the wrong word or step could result in him feeling the heavy weight of the typewriter. Plus the force behind its impact from being thrown across the other side of the room.
Spike looked over his shoulder from the dusting to see the strained dance show before him, opting to watch it from a distance lest the typewriter fall on his head while he tried to help her. “Well, this...outburst, only happened because your article on fashion didn’t make it into the featured section of your favorite magazine, right?
Rarity finally fell backwards into the table, where the typewriter clanked against the wood of the table before it finally settled, and the unicorn herself had her back pressed against one of its legs. “You make it sound like it is such a small thing.”
“My bad then.” Spike coughed out the dirt that had accidentally infiltrated his nostrils and worked to gain passage into his lungs. A failed attempt for sure. “I just think it's silly to get worked up over something like that, regardless of how much it means to you. But then again, why should you care what I have to say about it?”
Rarity huffed from the floor, deciding to stay there a little longer. “My getting upset should in no way hamper your self-esteem.”
“Oh, I don’t care about that.” Spike gestured his non-carinigess with a wave of a claw. “I just think that you should worry more about the quality that you put forth in that article of yours. You can’t really control how popular it will be or high of a rating it may get, but you can control how much you put into your work...I thought you already knew this stuff, Rarity?”
“Darling.” The alabaster unicorn finally decided to rise up from the wooden floor, but still fell back onto the table for support. “You do not fully comprehend the severity of the situation. The magazine is the most prestige regarded throughout the nobles of Cantolort, thus the world should come to respect its every page if they care for anything at all about fashion.”
“So why not just focus on putting more passion into your article that makes it uniquely your own, while trying to improve yourself so that you meet whatever standards these snobs have?”
Rarity’s lips twisted and turn, as a whine prepared itself to be unleashed. “Because I’ve already tried!”
Sensing that he wouldn’t be able to fully clean the library until the situation was resolved, Spike cocked his duster into his bag and began to approach the mare. “What do you mean by that?”
“Every Time they asked me to reworked an area or to add in a tidbit or to re-write the darn thing, I did so to the tee. And yet, every time I make my article better to their request and resubmit it, it always ends up getting rejected!” Rarity blasted off from the table fueled by the anger, catching Spike before her eyes in an instant.
“What’s worst is when I see they’re next issue, and they have this mare with paint on her dress and they start calling it a masterpiece! I can spill paint on my dress in a second, but the amount of time I invest in my work is countless. So how come this careless mare gets more respect than me!?”
Spike opened his mouth to speak but found it quickly filled by a white hoof.
“I already know what you’re going to say! That life isn’t fair and that you’d be crazy to think otherwise, but I still think those who work hard should get what they deserved.
Spike yanked out the white hoof from his hoof as he found out sucking on his love’s hoof wasn’t at all what is was cracked up to be, as he clawed the filth off from his tongue. “I wasn’t only going to say that at all, though you are wrong, Rarity.”
“Yeah?” She butted her forehead into his as she stared into the depths of his soul for any cowardice. “How?”
“No one gets what they deserve; they get what they get.” Spike pushed his love away, though he relished in the feeling of her white fur caressing the palm of his claw. “And as for you and the magazine: I’d say that you won in that scenario.”
“Won?” She gave a little huff that Spike still found adorable. “How is my losing to another lesser mare and have my dreams shattered result in me winning in any regard?”
“Because your article became the best it can be because of it.” Spike started to stride away back to his work now that his argument had disbanded some of the mare’s anger. “These ponies took time out of their day to tell you what they didn’t like or what you did wrong with your article, which is something most ponies have to pay or beg for, allowing to tweak any quirks in your writing.”
Rarity tried to approach the drake, but his back while at worked for some reason kept her a few feet away. “But my article still didn’t get featured! It wasn’t respected by the top names in fashion nor was it enjoyed by the stay at home moms trying to get their groove back on by mixing their clothes.”
“Huh?” The drake stopped cleaning the counter to look back at the mare. “I don’t get it. Why wouldn’t ponies interested in your article not read it?”
“Because it wasn’t featured!”
The brow of the dragon’s raised on its own. “But it was in the magazine, right?”
Rarity nodded.
That’s when Spike understood as he leaned his head against the bindings of the numerous books. “Rarity, look...it’s okay to feel good when your work gets featured, because having everyone talk about you is a moment that should be cherished. It makes you think that all the time that you devoted to this thing was well worth it.”
“As it is,” Rarity interjected with a nod.
“Right. But that shouldn’t be the reason why you do it.”
Rarity recoiled her head at hearing the word as her mind repelled at doing such an idea. “But why? What’s so wrong about wanting to be read by everyone and have their respect?”
“Because ponies who want to read your article, will, and those who don’t, won’t. You can amass a great following of ponies that’ll respect your work whenever it's released, regardless of what kind of state it’s in.”
The alabaster hoof struck through the air separating it from the ceiling of the library, bouncing upward as if it would extend its reach. “That sounds like exactly the fans I want admiring my work!”
“Those definitely make good fans Rarity.” Spike finally decided to turn around with the heave of a sigh, as he took a step toward her once more. “But those are the ponies that you want as your true fans. The greatest fans are those who read your work regardless of how many followers you have or high your article is ranked, and feel a connection with the work.”
The last of the energy from the previous outburst began to fade away from Rarity’s system, as she sat on the floor so that the two were eye level. “But most fans already feel a connection when they read my work, and only do so because my article got featured.”
