A/N: Not much of a plot, but I wanted to write something short. Usually when I write, it's a full blown novel. This is my first story on here, so I'm a bit nervous, heh.
Disclaimer: I don't own My Little Pony, but I do own my character and this writing.
After waking up at the crack of dawn with a new idea for a toy ingrained in her brain, hovering behind her still drooping lids, after working well through breakfast and on into the afternoon, she was finished.
Frippery lowered the toy, hugging it briefly to her chest before setting it on her mattress. Her parents, as loving and gentle as they were, still believed she was much too old for dolls. But this was her special talent, her destiny - her parents just couldn't object to it. Even when she was old, and all of her friends were nothing but bores and business, she would always have a good reason to enjoy dolls and ribbons and cuddly toys made for foals. She climbed to her hooves and set about cleaning her disaster of a room, carefully gathering together the scraps of fabric and tufts of cotton that had fallen where she'd worked. In between her flits about, she paused to study her newest creation.
Like everything Frippery Bagatelle made, this cuddly little toy was definitely not perfect. Not like the ones you bought in stores - machine made, without the charm of one made unique, by hoof. Still, she was absolutely endearing with her big, shiny button eyes and long lashes, she knew that the little bear would find some filly who thought she was far more than perfect. There was someone out that would love her, imperfections and all. Still, Frippery couldn't help but think something was missing. She let it go, knowing it would come to her with time.
She gathered her sewing supplies and set them on the shelf, careful to put each item where it belonged. Once she realized her special talent, she'd made her little sewing area the entire centerpiece of her room, and everything else simply revolved around it - just like how she simply revolved around her talent, as many other ponies do. Above it sat the shelf that showed off the toys she hadn't been able to sell yet, or the ones she'd loved too much to let go of - including the first little bear she'd ever made, the one who had earned her her Cutie Mark.
She picked it the new bear cub and set it on the shelf, then skipped off to dig for something she'd just remembered - the perfect finishing touch, the thing that was missing. She trotted back no more than a moment later, bringing something long and shiny with her. It was a strap of cloth from one of her dresses that didn't fit anymore. Her parents hated that Frippery was always destroying her clothes, but she'd outgrown the dress. And anyway, she couldn't understand why she even needed dresses. She wasn't one for social gatherings or anything such thing.
After tying a satiny bow around her neck, Frippery picked up the plush and held it up in the late morning rays of light. She was giddy with pride, and little rings of laughter kept slipping from her lips. This bear cub was her best work yet. Her colors were not the typical bland combination of black and brown, instead, they were utterly girly - blue button eyes, light pink body patched together from an old suede coat she had, and then the golden yellow bow that was even more brilliant than the sunshine. She hadn't had any thread the color of that particular shade of suede; so instead, she used a color a bit darker, a bit more purple. It gave the bear a patched look, one that some might find raggedy, but Frippery found it charming. Some filly out there was sure to adore her.