Rarity glared at the letter, her eyes glowing in frustration.
Dear Ms. Rarity,
I would like to congratulate you on your most recent photoshoot. We at The Daily Mare are big fans of your work.
It is because of this that I would like to extend you an invitation to participate in our quality work here at The Daily Mare for the next iss—
Rarity lit her horn and crinkled the letter up, tossing it with a precise, high arc into the garbage can in the corner of the room. That was the fifth time in the past couple of weeks that The Daily Mare contacted her. They tried time after time to cajole her to pose for one of their sultry issues, each time, the money reward going higher and higher. In turn, her frustration kindled more and more to an ever-burning fire.
She grunted once more, her face turning bright red. Seeing that crumpling up the letter wasn't good enough, she burst it aflame, the ashes falling to the wastebasket below. Once it was done, she opened a window beside her, sitting at her table, her head in her hooves. There was nothing more uncouth than pornography, other than trying to convince her to partake in such filth. The female body is a beautiful thing, she remembered saying in one of her interviews. As such, it deserves to be observed with respect.
Pornography, in her mind, didn't do so whatsoever. Even when the subject was male, it turned the subject into a mere object for false sex play. And it made her sick at its easy availability.
She sighed, casting her eyes about the room. It was oddly empty and quiet. She furrowed her eyebrows. Where was Sweetie Belle? She had just come home from school, and she and the Crusaders didn't start activities until a bit later in the afternoon. What's more, she walked up to her room, saying next to nothing as she passed by.
She frowned, turning in her seat. For the past couple months, it'd been like this. Each week, she'd retire to her room more and more often. Honestly, who could blame her? She was in her senior year of school, and that meant piles and piles of homework. Rarity had seen it herself, her saddlebag getting fuller and fuller each day. Also, things had also been dreadfully busy with the Cutie Mark Crusaders too, as lines outside of their tree house grew to extend to the street. She also had the end of year talent show she was singing for, and upon reading the score, Rarity's mind had gone through a flip as she saw all of the octave jumps and a note that was nearly in whistling pitch.
There was hardly a day when Sweetie Belle came home without a vein bulging at her temple. Rarity had tried to help, but in the end it would always result in her retiring to her room once more to either study or nap.
Breathing in sharply, Rarity stood, climbing gently up the stairs. She'd been so stressed lately, and seeing her day after day going to her room with that expression on her face made a pit in her stomach. The least she could do is check in on her, see if everything's okay. Over the past couple of times she did it, she'd been napping or actually studying. But the last time she checked in was long past.
"... Haahh... ahhh..."
Rarity's ear twitched, stopping at the top of the stairs.
"... Hhh..."
She knit her eyebrows. Was that... breathing? It was Sweetie Belle's... but there was really no reason why she should be breathing so hard.
"... Ahh...! ...Mmmhh..."
An ice cold feeling plunged into Rarity's gut. Everything else was silent. Unless she was practicing the yoga she'd shown her... but no, there was no creaking, no big movement of any kind. Her heart raced in dread as she neared the door, pushing it open.
"... Sweetie, is everything all—"
Her words froze in her throat. There sat Sweetie Belle, still as stone, horn illuminated. In front of her was a magazine entitled Big Colts, in the background a teaser with a stallion in a revealing, string-like thong. One hoof rested on her bed keeping her steady, while the other was placed between her legs.
Rarity let out a startled laugh. "Sweetie... what are you...?" Her eyes darted between the magazine and her sister, and the idea finally began to cement. "What are you doing?"
The last word came out as a screech, and Sweetie flinched. "I'm sorry, Rarity..." she managed, her voice broken up. The magazine fell on her lap. "I just..."
"You just what, Sweetie? You just WHAT?" The scream left Rarity's throat raw. She picked up the magazine, and without looking, threw it in the garbage can. Her head spun. Sweetie couldn't have possibly done this, one side of her mind persisted. She's good, she's kind... anything that any sister could want.
But the cold hard facts were out there in front of her. There her sister was, doing the thing which she hated the most.
"I-I'm sorry..."
Sweetie's voice came as a near-whisper. The redness disappeared from the corners of her eyes, and the red hot flame of anger in her chest was snuffed out by an icy winter of dread. Sweetie was doubled over, coughing out bitter sobs, both hooves thrust between her legs, well into the bed.
"It's just..." she forced through the veil of sobs. "I-it's been getting so hard, Rarity!" She sniffed, her body visibly shaking. "I d-didn't know where to go! E-everything I love is causing me s-so... s-so much stress! I needed s-something. I needed—!" The sobs became more and more bitter, and she threw her head down to her lap. "Y-you have every right... t-to hate me...!"
Rarity's heart shattered to dust. What had she done? Why did she raise her voice at her? Why did she make this about herself? She loved Sweetie, but she couldn't believe what she did during her shock.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, slowly approaching Sweetie's bed. She sat next to her, her relative weight pulling Sweetie closer to her. "Sweetie..." she said soothingly. "I don't hate you. I'm sorry I reacted the way I did. That was unfair."
Sweetie's head rested on Rarity's shoulder. "How was it unfair? I..."
"That's enough of that, Sweetie," she said more firmly than before. "I know that I have a firm distaste for pornography." She shook her head. "But that doesn't have any impact on how much I love you."
"But how was that unfair?" Sweetie asked, sitting up. Her red eyes stared inquisitively at her. She put a hoof on her chest. "I was the one that hurt you. If I hadn't started doing this in the first place, you wouldn't have been hurt like this."
The icy feeling in Rarity's chest subsided. All that remained was a warmness. She put a hoof on her sister's shoulder. "Listen. Honestly, I'm not hurt. Surprised? Yes. Was it eye-opening? Absolutely."
Sweetie narrowed her eyebrows, leaning towards her. "Then why did you raise your voice?"
She bit her lip. She didn't feel hurt. Honestly, the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Sweetie was practically all grown up at eighteen, so that sort of desire was only natural. Natural still was the fact that the desire only increased. And when stress meets that sort of desire...
Rarity frowned. "I think it was because I was riled up by that stupid letter."
Sweetie cocked her head to one side. "The Daily Mare tried contacting you again?"
She nodded. "Yes. Their persistence frustrates me to no end." She sighed. "But that's no excuse. I really should be the one apologizing to you. I'm sorry that I raised my voice. I'm sorry that I made this about myself." Her chest tightened in apprehension, the back of her eyes stinging from tears.
"It's okay, Rarity," Sweetie forgave, and immediately a weight lifted off of Rarity's shoulders. But then her eyes fell to her lap, and she sighed. "But how can you forgive me so easily?"
Rarity gave her sister a small smile. "Here," she said, scooting closer to her sister, wrapping her inside hoof around her. "Let me tell you a story. I have a really good friend that I've known for a couple of years. She has every ounce of my respect. And wouldn't you know it; one time I walked into her library and I caught her clopping to one of her books."
Sweetie furrowed her eyebrows. "Are we talking about Twilight, Rarity?"
She bit her lip. "No! Just a friend, not Twilight!" she blurted, her face burning.
"But anyways, as you would imagine, I was shocked at her doing so, and she apologized profusely that I had to see that." She closed her eyes, gathering her thoughts carefully. "But I realized then that I didn't know why she was doing it. I couldn't judge if she was just relieving stress like you, or if it was a pastime that made her happy..." She opened her eyes, plunging them into the depths of her sister's. "But what I knew is that she was still one-hundred percent my friend. And if it made her happy, that's all I could ask for. So I frankly forgave her."
Sweetie frowned. "But doesn't that go against your integrity?"
Rarity shook her head. "Absolutely not. It was my personal decision that I wouldn't indulge in such things, and I still won't. But this is a very personal matter. And if it truly makes you happy, and if it truly relieves your stress..." She shrugged. "I won't stop you, because I love you. If you're happy, then I'm happy."
Leaning backward a little but still in her grasp, Sweetie raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?" she asked pensively.
Rarity smiled. "Positively." She extended her other hoof widely. "Here, darling."
Almost without hesitation, Sweetie dove into her embrace, and their heartbeats synced up. "Love you, Rarity," she said softly into her chest.
"I love you too, Sweetie," she whispered back, embracing her sister harder before pulling back. "Anyways. There is an all-natural hoof lotion in the bathroom. It's safe for any use. I don't want you going in raw and hurting yourself. We should also get you a 'Do Not Disturb' sign so that nopony walks in on you. And if you purchase any toys—"
"Rarity..." Sweetie groaned, her cheeks visibly red.
"—I don't want to see them. Keep them someplace safe and keep them clean. Okay?"
"Okay," she responded, turning her head away from her in the typical teenager fashion.
"Good," Rarity said, smiling. "Now, I need to run some errands." She stood, kissing Sweetie atop her head. "And you probably need some time alone. Do you need anything?"
Sweetie shook her head. "I don't think so."
Walking to the door, Rarity smiled back at her. "Okay. Love you! Goodbye!" She quickly made her exit, clicking the door behind her. All the while, a warm feeling settled in her chest. It was a sort of thankfulness that for once, they were able to see eye-to-eye.
Author's Note
So this came out of relatively nowhere, but somewhere at the same time. Originally, I was going to write a fic based off of a picture I saw with an anthro Luna and Spike playing a video game together in a quite... er, comfy position. Here's the pic below:
Drawing, "Luna With Spike", by Franschesco
The reason why I didn't go for it is that it was supposed to be a satire of clop itself with a similar message as here, but the more I planned it out, the more improbable it seemed. So instead, I hit the nail on the head with this one.
But really, this fic is quite personal to me, as I've been on both sides of this conversation. This is one of the lessons that I've learned, that even though what other people do may not be things that I'd do, I should be supportive, understanding, and loving toward them.
There's really no room for hatred in our hundred years of life.
(Another thing, this fic was made with the teen rating in mind, but because the subject matter is of a more mature, sexual nature, I decided that the M rating was the most appropriate.)