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// Frantic Fashion  
// Story: The Catastrophic Case of the Cutie Mark Crusaders 
// by Squeak-anon 
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Rarity rushed hurriedly around Carousel Boutique, cutting fabric, measuring, sewing threads and generally doing a spot on impression of a humming bird having a panic attack. This is not because she was in fact doing anything related to small nectar eating birds, but because for the first time in the last few months she’d gotten a large order.
Rarity was a rather obsessive unicorn, in that she always wanted everything to be perfect. This is a highly unrealistic goal do to the fact nothing in this world is in fact totally perfect, except perhaps a well baked cupcake. Though the fact that making seventy one dresses in the course of three days was in no way related to baked goods was certainly not going to stop her from trying.
Sweetie Belle stepped through the doorway into the boutique.She’d just gotten back from helping Cherrilie, the local schoolteacher, with cleaning up after her latest endeavor. She considered saying something to Rarity, but quickly abandoned the idea. Talking to a busy Rarity was a bit like trying to talk to a comet. You could try, but they were often moving far too fast to hear you.  
The small unicorn filly trudged up to her room. Rarity didn’t even notice, she was far too enthralled in picking a nice lace hemming for the nearest evening gown at near the speed of light.
This is not to say that Rarity was a bad sister, quite the opposite, she was simply a busy one. After the unfortunate death of their parents she had been saddled with the burden of providing for both herself and Sweetie. She did everything she did out of love, though at times it left her younger sister alone in her room.
Sweetie was used to such a life, it was lonely, but at the very least stable. She opened the door to her room, walking past a large pile of failed sewing attempts. Most of which were a hideous color and still more that had an overabundance of legs. She’d tried several times to take up the art of sewing in an attempt to help her sister around the shop, but it was simply not her talent. She sighed as she walked past the vanity mirror looking at her hindquatters. Here our final resident of Hooftown stared at her blank flank in low spirits. The fillies and colts at school had all found their talents. Why not her? She knew of only two others who had not yet received a cutie mark. The young filly from the Apple Family, and that Pegasus from the filly’s home on the edge of town. The other fillies teased them mercilessly.
Something that ponies who do not fit in will often find, is that there are few things in this world more cruel than a classroom full of small foals. A classroom can be compared to the hierarchy of a pack of wolves in the way that the strongest come out as the leaders, regardless of personality. It is also similar in the way that the wolf that is born slightly smaller, or perhaps with an extra leg is often one of two things, the one that gets the smallest cut of caribou, or supper.
Sweetie Belle opened one of the vanity’s many drawers, taking out a check list. She grabbed a nearby marker and drew a large red X over the words ‘Archery Cutie Mark’. The local nurse had made her promise never to obtain a mark that involved sharp objects and on a separate, but equally important note, live targets. Rather unfairly really, they had managed to stop the bleeding eventually.
What was her talent? She wondered. Would she ever find it? She’d tried so many things to no avail. She wasn’t a fantastic designer like her sister, good at math, or science, or drawing or dancing.
She wasn’t good at anything.
It is in times like this when doubt creeps in and the brain, at times an awful, awful thing to have, turns to the worst of thoughts. Things like: ‘What if I never find my talent? I’ll  be an outcast forever. A talentless, useless outcast.’ Then to still worse thoughts like ‘Oh, who am I kidding...I’m that already.’
Tears stung the corners of her eyes as these things crossed her mind. She thought like this often. Her sister supported them both and she could do nothing to help. She had tried to learn to sew, she’d tried so hard, but nothing had come of it. She wanted so much to be useful, to be something, anything. Still, she always ended up alone in her room, her flank as blank as ever.
At the moment, Sweetie felt unwanted, and indeed, unneeded as well. But, very shortly, a series of events I dearly wish I could have stopped, would show her she was wrong. She was wanted and she was needed and very soon, she would wish she was neither.
“Sweetie Belle!” called Rarity from downstairs.
The small filly’s head jerked up at the sound. She quickly dried her tears and raced down the stairs to her sister’s workshop. She always leapt at the chance to be helpful.
“Yes, Rarity?” She asked hopefully.
He sister gazed down at her, speaking around a collection of sewing needles clenched in her teeth. “It appears I’m out of purple #42 fabric. I simply must have it to complete this order. But I haven’t got the time to run down to the fabric shop. Would you be a dear and fetch some for me? There’s money on the table.”
“Oh,” said Sweetie, unsure. “Are you sure you want me to do it? I’ll probably just get the wrong one.” her head drooped.
Rarity looked at her sister, spitting out the needles and halting all work. She knelt down next to the small filly with a frown. “Now, Sweetie, I know full well you can do this. You’re my sister after all and no sister of Rarity’s shall talk like that I’ll have you know!” she smiled. “I have total faith in you.”
She brightened a little. “Really?”
“Of course dear, now run along, grab a little extra money and get something for yourself. But don’t dally darling! I really need this fabric. If you have trouble just remember this rhyme, ‘When we have much to do, remember purple #42.’ Got it?”
Sweetie grinned. “I won’t let you down!” She dashed over to the counter, grabbed the money, and was out the door in the space of a second.
Rarity stared for a moment, thinking perhaps her sister had disintegrated.
“Bebackinaseconddon’tyouworry!” called a voice from halfway down the street.
Rarity got the gist of this. She smiled, and went back to work.

Sweetie ran as fast as her rather small legs could carry her to the town square. It is something that is often debated by scientist as to what the fastest thing is, and indeed what factors into the speed of anything. Many believe that it is in fact leg length plus muscle mass that contribute to the amount of speed given out by any creature at a given time. Small fillies and colts have neither of these things in very large supply, but disprove this theory in playgrounds around Equestria on a day to day basis. There are few things on earth faster than a happy filly.
Several ponies leapt out of the way as a white and pink blur raced down the streets and walkways of ponyville. Sweetie Belle felt elated to finally have something to do. She could be useful, help her sister for once, instead of being a burden. It was freeing.
She reached the fabric store in what documents would later show may or may not have been land-speed record. She skidded to a stop and entered with a skip in her step. What was the color Rarity wanted? She couldn’t forget. Was it Blue #27?  No, that wasn’t it. She thought back to the rhyme her sister had given her, When we have much to do, think.....think......
“Oh dear.” Sweetie fretted. “I’ve forgotten it. She’s counting on me and I’ve...forgotten it. I really am useless.” She could feel the tears coming again. “She just told me not a minute ago...and I couldn’t even remember it that long.” She choked back a sob. “She needed me, and I’ve already failed.”
Mrs.Wool, the shop owner, noticed Sweetie’s distress. “What’s wrong dear?” she asked softly.
Sweetie Belle stood there, still trying not to cry. She couldn’t just break down, this was a simple request from her sister. She had to remember, she just had to. What was that rhyme? When we have much to do...think.....”
Mrs.Wool was almost thrown off her hooves as Sweetie turned to face her, suddenly smiling. “Miss, I need some Purple #42 fabric!”
The old mare collected herself. The small filly had gone from sad, to manically happy in the space of a few seconds. Mrs.Wool figured she ought to do what she said, and get her out of her shop as quickly as possible.
Sweetie Belle did a little dance in the aisle.
Better make that even quicker.
“Alright deary.” she said, eyeing Sweetie warily. “Coming up.”


Sweetie carried the shopping bag full of fabric happily. She had remembered. She’d gotten it right. Maybe she wasn’t so useless after all. She stopped as she passed Sugarcube Corner. She’d earned a reward, she mused.
As she was about to step through the door, something sparkled in the window of the next shop over. She stopped in her tracks and stared.
It was a glass rose, it’s bloom, instead of red, was a brilliant purple. It glittered brilliantly in the sunlight. It was beautiful. It reminded her of Rarity. Sweetie looked between Sugarcube Corner and the shop window, wondering what to do. She thought back to her sister, she’d had faith in her. She’d trusted her, even when a mistake might mean she wouldn’t finish the biggest order they’d gotten in a while.
She made up her mind.
The shop bell rung dourly as she entered. It was an antique shop and in classic antique shop fashion, the interior was rather terrifying in the way that only dusty old wooden pony dolls and ancient unflattering paintings can be terrifying. This is to say, quite a lot. It had the same smell all such shops share. A rather unpleasant mix of old wood, old mold and old mares who have never heard the term ‘There’s such a thing as too much’ concerning the subject of perfume.
An old unicorn stallion with a pair of glasses so small Sweetie wondered if they did anything sat behind the counter, smoking an dandelion pipe and reading a paper, apparently the owner. She walked over and attempted to reach the bell on top of the counter. She jumped several times, but found she was too short. The stallion continued reading his paper, unaware of the small filly, who was feeling smaller by the second, trying to get his attention.
He finally noticed somewhere around the fifty-seventh jump.
He peered down at her for a moment, chewing his pipe. She stopped jumping, deflating slightly at the imposing figure.
“Um...excuse me sir.”
He magically removed his pipe, and adjusted his glasses. “What is it?” he asked gruffly.
“Well....I’d like to buy that rose in the window.”
He looked impassively at the rose in question. “It’s seventy bits.”
Sweetie looked into the small wallet she’d placed in the shopping bag. “Oh...I’ve only got ten...”
“Well you can’t have it then.” the owner grunted.
“Oh...” Sweetie paused. “Well what if I-”
“Nope, no bits, no flower.”
“But sir, it would be the perfect gift for my sister, and-”
“What part of ‘No bit’s no flower’ did you have a hard time understanding. Now buy something else or get out.” He spat, returning to his paper.
Sweetie Belle hung her head in defeat. “Thank you for you time.”
The stallion grunted in response.
As she turned to leave she heard a voice from the back room.
“Honey? Honey what’s going on up there, I thought I heard voices.” An old unicorn mare with equally tiny glasses wandered into the front of the store, looking at her husband rather crossly. “Oh, hello there,” She said upon seeing the small filly standing rather dejectedly on the shop floor. “What’s your name, sweetie?”
“Um....it’s well, Sweetie.” she said sheepishly.  
The mare took a moment to process this. “Oh, well I guess I got it right off the bat then.” she smiled. Sweetie decided she liked this mare immediately. “I’m Mrs.Curio, that grump over there is my husband, Mr.Curio.” she nodded the the stallion, who grunted the affirmative. “You looking for anything in particular dear?”
“Oh,” Sweetie stared at her hooves, pawing the ground slightly. “I wanted to buy that rose in the window....but I don’t have enough money.”
Mrs.Curio frowned. “Well, that’s certainly a problem.”
“Yes, I know, I’ll just leave then. It was nice meeting you Mrs.Curio.” Sweetie turned sadly to the door.
“Well now, wait a minute little Filly.” Mrs. Curio held up a hoof. “I said it was a problem. I never said we couldn’t work around it.”
Sweetie stopped, confused. “But I’ve only got ten bits. I can’t afford it.”
“Oh, but Sweetie, you’re forgetting about the sale.” The old mare smiled.
“What sal-” Mr.Curio grunted as he found a hoof kicking him sharply in the leg.
“Oh you silly old stallion. The sale that depends on one thing.” she leaned down and looked Sweetie in the eye. “Who’s it for?”
The small filly’s face broke out in a grin. “Oh it’s for my sister Mrs.Curio! My sister Rarity.”
“Is she a special person?” asked Mrs.Curio, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh yes, the most!”
“Do you love her?”
“More than anything!”
Mrs.Curio chuckled. “Well then, go ahead.”
Sweetie paused. “Huh?”
“Well, don’t doddle, pack up that rose, and take it to that sister of yours, she sounds like she’s really something.  
Sweetie jumped up and hugged her. “Oh thank you! She’ll love it! She really will!”
“If you’re the one getting it I know she will.” the rose floated over to the counter where Mrs.Curio wrapped it carefully in old Equestria Dailies. “But be careful with it dear, it’s very fragile.”
“I will! Oh, I’ll be very careful! She said, carefully placing it in her shopping bag. “Do you have some paper?”
“Hmm? Why do you ask?”
“I wanted to write a note to go with it. My sister’s very busy, I don’t want to disturb her, so I was going to leave it among her supplies and I want to write something special so she knows how much I love her.”
Mrs.Curio smiled. “I’m sure she knows already.” her horn glowed as she refiled through some drawers, “But In that case, yes, we do have paper. Just tell me what you want to say, I’ll write it down. That way you can hurry and get back to your sister.”



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Sweetie trotted back to the boutique in high spirits. She’d been useful and helped her sister, plus she’d gotten her something she just knew Rarity would love. The rose jangled around in the bag. Mrs.Curio had even invited her back for tea next time she was in town. She liked the old mare, and looked forwards to getting to know her better.
It is at this point, you may have noticed that this story is getting far too happy. If you would like it to remain this way, please stop reading here, and go read something else. Maybe something involving Fluttershy’s day feeding turtles. You will be much happier for having made this decision. If you are the kind of person that enjoys this sort of thing, then either keep reading, or seek help immediately. I shall wait while you make either choice.








If you are reading this, then you did not take my subtle warning. You really should have, but since you wish to continue I shall not stop you. Sadly it is at this moment in this unfortunate story, that Sweetie took a short cut and it is at this time of day that nopony was paying attention to the small filly taking the almost deserted road home and it is indeed at this point that the very nasty, vile ponies that weren’t very nice at all in our story got her. There were no schemes, there were no tricks. No, they were done with that. The  ‘Grab her and toss her in the carriage’ method was so much quicker. So that’s exactly what happened. A carriage pulled up, the driver asked Sweetie how her day was and as she turned to answer a pair of hooves shot out, grabbed her and pulled her inside. Behind her the shopping bag dropped, and there was the sound of glass shattering.
To Sweetie, there would be few worse sound than this in her life. She had no time to dwell on this though, because at the moment she found herself in what could very generously be described as a sack. Heading far away from her sister, her town, and almost anyone who could help her.



To be continued (Unfortunately)

Told you to stop reading