One hundred sixty-eight thousand, four hundred thirty-three bits.
One hundred one thousand, eight hundred seventy bits.
Sixty thousand, twelve bushels.
Four thousand, nine hundred sixty-eight trees.
Five hundred ninety-four barrels.
Three hundred thirty-eight days.
Two hundred ninety days.
Two hundred seventy-four acres.
Two hundred forty-one board-feet.
Two hundred seven bales.
One hundred sixty-two market days.
One hundred six shingles.
Eighty-four wake-up calls.
Seventy-nine breakfasts.
Seventy-one injuries.
Fifty-six playdates.
Thirty-six wet days.
Thirty-one late notices.
Thirty-one excuses.
Twenty-nine adventures.
Twelve broken shanks.
Nine hoof-made toys.
Seven fields.
Four seasons.
Two siblings.
One farm-year.

The Prompt: It is our duty to build the tools and toys that will inspire the next generation to imagine a better future.
or, Damn it all, something about apples!

This is nominally a thirty-minute prompt. Take as long as you like to plan or procrastinate on your story, but once the first word is down the timer is on. Reply to this comment and I will read it over and give some feedback—requests welcome. Good luck!

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Prompt chosen: Something about apples

Author's note: And as usual, once I get started I can't stop. I'm worried this one might have gone over the wordcount limit; if so, please let me know and I will remove it.

Legacy Prompt 70: Grafting

Granny Smith smiled as she looked out the window at the end of the hallway. The sun had just risen, but Big Mac and Applejack were both outside, clearly visible from her viewpoint. Mac was already hard at work trying to sharpen the plow, and Applejack was hauling a bucket of slops out to the pigs. Rather slowly and doing her best to keep the bucket from touching her, Granny noted with a small frown. Then she heard a snatch of sound from downstairs and headed down.
Once downstairs, Granny Smith turned her head, listening for the sounds she’d heard before. And, after a few seconds, she was rewarded, if ‘reward’ it was. “So’s it’s like a pie, see? Just think of cuttin’ a big apple pie inta pieces, an’ shuffle ‘em around until they fit together.”
“Thanks, AJ,” came Apple Bloom’s response. “Fractions’re tough, an’ I wouldn’ta thought of it that way.”
“No problem, sis,” Applejack’s voice replied, “just glad I could help ya.”
Granny Smith shook her head, then stepped over to the door and slipped outside. She motioned until she caught Mac’s attention, pointed to the pigsty, then pulled her foreleg toward herself and the doorway. For a brief second confusion covered Mac’s face, only to be replaced by a grim look of displeasure, quickly hidden away, and he set the plow aside and began to trot over to the sty.
Once she saw Mac was underway, Granny Smith turned back inside, carefully closing the door after her. She slowly counted in her head, reaching twenty before she made a move, then stepped over to the side wall and grabbed her broom. “Girls?” she called, “couldja come here?”
“Sure thing, Granny!” That was Apple Bloom; she was the first one around the kitchen corner, beaming fit to burst as she scampered in.
Applejack, or something resembling Applejack, stepped in a second later, a smile on her lips. “Somethin’ wrong, Granny?” she asked, the smile fading away, a look of concern replacing it.
“Could be, could be,” Granny Smith muttered as she carefully stepped back to the wall, next to the door. Her timing was almost perfect; she’d only been there for a few seconds when the door flew open, and a second Applejack stepped into the room. Only partway at first; as she looked around, the second Applejack saw the first, and tried to back up. Unsuccessfully, as Big Mac simply stepped forward, shoving the second orange mare all the way into the room. At a nod from Granny, he reached around and pulled the door shut.
Granny Smith stepped forward, broom at the ready, moving until she was exactly halfway between the two ‘Applejacks’, and she snorted as her head swung between them. “At least one of ya ain’t what she appears ta be,” she snapped. “An I mighta been in bed when Miss Sparkle dropped by last night, but I wasn’t asleep. Now, it’s possible Applejack finished her business and got back right quick, but…” Granny shook her head, in sorrow half real, half feigned. “I’m not much of a gamblin’ mare, but I’d wager a bushel of apples ain’t neither of you is the real thing. So, are ya gonna admit it, or do I need ta sweep it out of ya?”
The Applejack standing by Apple Bloom glanced at the other one, then bent to her knees, her head bowed. She gently shoved Apple Bloom a few steps away, and a ring of fire spun up around her, leaving a brownish-yellow changeling doe in its wake. The second Applejack tried to dance away from the first, but at a stern glare from Big Mac and a threatening swipe of Granny’s broom, she too bent down and transformed, blue chitin replacing orange hide. Granny nodded at the sight. “Thought so,” she said. “Bloom, run into town and fetch the mayor or somepony. If Miss Sparkle’s back, get her.” Apple Bloom’s head snapped up, and she slipped out the door and started running. That done, Granny Smith turned back to her two captives. “Well, Missies,” she said, broom still sweeping across in front of her in strokes more martial than cleanly, “we’re going to have some words, we are.”

“Ah’m back, Granny!” Apple Bloom stuck her head around the door as she spoke. “I’ve got the mayor here, an’ Miss Snow came too.”
Granny Smith spared a glance as the two named individuals came in, brown earth pony followed by white unicorn. The last guise, of course, was as false as the twin Applejacks had been, and Granny nodded grudgingly as Ponyville’s resident changeling queen stepped into the room. “Got a couple’f yours here,” Granny said, pointing with the broom toward the two changelings huddled on the floor. “Tried to fake their way in as m’granddaughter, they did.”
A white hoof rose to meet its owner’s face, and Queen Snow sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said, “and I promise you they will be disciplined for this.” She glanced at the two, then snorted. “I know you’re responsible for this, Lily,” she said to the blue doe, “you never did seem to acknowledge that we’re bound by pony law these days.” The queen’s gaze swept to the other doe as she continued. “Although I’m surprised at you, Seagrass. This isn’t like you.” She shook her head, slowly, as she continued. “Now I need to figure out what to do with you two.”
“Kin I make a suggestion?” Queen Snow turned, staring into Granny’s eyes, and Granny snorted. “Ya ever heard the phrase ‘be careful what you wish for,’ yer majesty?”
“I have,” Queen Snow said, “but I don’t see-”
“I believe I do,” came the Mayor’s voice, hard with emotion, as she stepped forward. “In addition to the normal fines for their impersonation, Mrs. Smith is suggesting you leave their punishment to her, I believe.”
“Not quite punishment,” Granny said. “Jest this. They wanna be part of th’ Apple Family? Then why not show them what bein’ an Apple really means?”
Slowly, the queen’s lips turned upward in a cold grin.

Two weeks later, Queen Snow returned to Sweet Apple Acres, the Mayor once more in tow. The two were escorted in by Big Mac, to the family room where the two impersonators waited.
Gone was the shiny shell the two had held. As part of their penalty, Queen Snow had forcibly transformed them into Earth Pony forms, then locked them there, cutting off the use of their magic for any purpose. Both had been limited only to what an actual Earth Pony could do, and it showed in the smudges, bruises, and slowly hardening calluses on the edge of their hooves, all gained through long hours bucking trees, cleaning the house, weeding the garden, and whatever other chores Granny Smith, Big Mac, or (when she returned) Applejack could think of.
“I hope you two have learned your lessons,” Queen Snow said, gazing back and forth between the two changelings as she spoke. “Mrs. Smith,” she said, never taking her eyes away, “I trust these two have satisfied you with their efforts?”
“Don’t know as I’d say satisfied,” Granny said, “‘specially about that one.” She motioned to the blue doe, the one the queen had referred to as Lily. “She allus did just enough ta stay out of trouble, and never a bit more, and all of it with a nasty attitude.”
“I see,” Queen Snow said, glaring at Lily. “And Seagrass?”
A slight smile slipped to Granny’s lips as she spoke again. “Her? She was polite, behaved herself, did whatever we asked and then some. Her contrition’s real, too; she’s sorry, and not just that she got caught. I ain’t got nothin’ ta say against her, not no more.”

Time Limit

“Very well.” Queen Snow stepped back, standing tall, and a brilliant flash of light went out from her horn. When it faded, both does were once more in their natural forms, all signs of their tribulation erased.
Lily, upon realizing this, stepped away from everyone else in the room. “Later,” she half said, half snarled, and vanished in a bubble of teleporting flame.
Queen Snow turned toward Seagrass. “It’s time to head home, little one,” she said, reaching out a hoof towards her subject.
Instead of reaching back, Seagrass stepped backwards and huddled against the floor. “Can, can…” She took a breath, then tried again. “Majesty, can I stay? Please?” As every eye in the room turned toward her, she tried to continue, the words rushing out of her. “I know it was supposed to be a punishment, but I… I enjoyed these past two weeks. All the things I got to do, all I got to learn, I just…” She trailed off, a look of plaintive hopelessness on her face. “Please?”
Queen Snow looked at her, a touch shocked. “You want to stay here?” she asked, unsure she was really hearing what her ears were relaying to her.
“Yes, majesty.”
Granny Smith walked over, staring into Seagrass’s eyes. “Ya do realize the work’d get even harder if I let ya stay, right?”
Seagrass nodded. “I can accept that,” she said. “The work was hard, but it, it was…” She stared at the ground for several seconds, fumbling for words, before she looked up again. “It was right work,” she said at last.
Granny stared into Seagrass’s eyes again, deeper this time, and after some time, she turned away, nodding. “Soul of an Apple,” she said, softly, before looking toward the queen. “Ain’t my call,” Granny said, “she’s one of yours. But I wouldn’t object. Any of the rest of you?” Slowly, the rest of the Apple family shook their heads, and Granny looked back toward Queen Snow. “I guess the decision’s in your hooves, then,” she said.
“So it is.” The queen turned toward the Mayor. “Would you have any objection?”
“None, your majesty. If they all agree, I don’t see that it’s against any law I know of.”
“So be it.” Queen Snow stepped forward, her horn alight, everypony else moving out of the way as she did so. “Seagrass,” she said, “I hereby charge you with the task of infiltrating the Apple family of Sweet Apple Acres, in whatever form and guise you deem fit.”
As the light died, Seagrass looked up. “Your majesty, I accept this task.” She rose to her hooves, then stepped slightly away from everyone and transformed. When the fire faded, Seagrass stood before them as an Earth Pony mare, her hide the creamy white of an apple’s meat, her braided mane and tail the brown of seeds and stem, cut with a streak of lighter grayish-brown through them. She turned, stepping over and kneeling in front of Granny Smith. “May I have a name?” she asked softly.
Granny placed her hoof on the doe’s shoulder, nodding, then raised her voice. “Miss Mayor? Please let the town records show that I adopted one Sweet Cider Apple into the family today.”
“Of course, Mrs. Smith,” the mayor said, smiling. “I’d be happy to.”
Queen Snow cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “Now that that’s settled,” she said, “I need to get back to the Nest.” She looked toward the newly christened Sweet Cider. “You’re welcome to return whenever you like,” she said, “but…” Slowly, the queen shook her head. “This is where you belong. Even I can feel it now.” She looked around the room, a sad smile on her face, and her eyes bored into Granny’s as their gazes met. “Take care of her, Mrs. Smith.”
“I will,” Granny said, just before the queen vanished into her own bundle of flame. After it died, Granny Smith reached down to her new daughter, pulling her up and into a hug. “I warned ya it’d get tougher,” she said, “and it will. Even so…” She shook her head at the tears of joy on Sweet Cider’s face as she spoke. “Welcome home, dearie. Welcome home.”

4996309

Whoops this is late by my standards. Sorry about that!

It's too short and really not up to my usual standard. But I've had a pretty awful week and this is the best I can do.

Also I guess you subbed in for ThunderTempest , so next is Else Ynopemos? If they're still around at all? I guess I'll give them the rest of today, and if there's no prompt by tomorrow morning I'll post something.

Lunchtime at the Ponyville school was always noisy and chaotic, and today was no exception. Apple Bloom and her friends were right in the middle of everypony these days, and it was always fun chattering with all their friends. For some reason, today, Apple Bloom noticed one of the other fillies had an apple with her lunch.

A pony in Ponyville eating apples was hardly unusual, but today, Apple Bloom suddenly started to think about how that apple got there. It wasn't as simple as Sunny Daze probably thought!

First off, Sunny's mother probably put it there. But that was too easy.

She probably bought it off Applejack, and didn't give it a second thought past that. But Apple Bloom knew that while Applejack carted the apples to the town to sell them some days, most of the apples they harvested were bucked down by her big brother, Big Mac.

Though, you know, her siblings were both raised by their Ma and Pa, at least for a while. So something had to be given to those ponies. They'd helped turn Sweet Apple Acres around, before Apple Bloom was even born, or so she was told. Did that mean they had something to do with the apple Sunny Daze was taking a bite out of?

But if you counted Ma and Pa, then Granny Smith had to get credit for finding those seeds in the first place! Or at least she found the zap apple seeds. Apple Bloom thought, but she wasn't quite sure if Granny had found the actual apple seeds, or if it had been her family back then. Anyway, she guessed all of those ponies setting up Sweet Apple Acres to start with had some kind of responsibility for apples being in Ponyville now.

Of course, they only got that land because it was part of Equestria. So maybe the army way back then had something to do with it too?

But apple trees couldn't grow without sunshine, and so Princess Celestia had to have some credit too, right?

Apple Bloom wondered if Sunny knew that Princess Celestia sorta-kinda helped to get her that apple.

Even then, that wasn't enough! Somepony had to make the cart Applejack carried the apples in! All the barrels were made by somepony else too. That wasn't even counting whoever made that paper bag she brought her lunch in, and the table they were at, or the school, or--

Apple Bloom stopped herself there. All those ponies, the cartwright, cooper, paper... bag-maker... they all had families, and those stores were probably set up ages ago just like Sweet Apple Acres. All of those ponies and all of those years, and it all went into that apple core sitting on the table in front of Apple Bloom's friend.

Her silly ruminating was disrupted by a hoof poking her in the side. Scootaloo gave Apple Bloom a weird look. "Hey Apple Bloom, why are you staring at Sunny?"

"Huh? I ain't starin'! Hush up an' finish your lunch, Scootaloo!"

Apple Bloom glanced again at the apple core, but pushed all the thoughts aside. Soon she'd be doing her own part for ponies that came after her, and somehow fitting right in to history like that was satisfying in its own kind of way.

5010195
I like the idea behind this one: Two changelings struggling to integrate, with different outcomes based on their personalities. Clever title, as well. However, if I'm being honest, the execution didn't work for me at all.

Where is the real Applejack throughout this (I mean, two weeks)? How do Mac and Bloom feel about their 'guests'? What did the two changelings want in the first place? The mention of Twilight only raises further unanswerable questions and does adds nothing to the situation at hand hoof.

There was more written here, but I realized that it would be uncouth and unsolicited to boot. Message me if you want my critique.

Sweet at its heart, but not for me as it stands.

5010727

Also I guess you subbed in for ThunderTempest, so next is Else Ynopemos? If they're still around at all?

At this point, I have no idea. I'll sub in at any time, provided I have not done the previous week.

This was sweet. Apple Bloom taking a surprisingly genuine moment to reflect on the bigger picture, only to have it slip away.

The lead-in was a little clunky (or forced?), but once it got going there was a certain rhythm to it with clear and fun voice. Each little bit lead into another, and they are all interconnected. I particularly enjoyed the use of 'cooper' immediately juxtaposed with 'paper... bag-maker', crystallizing that mental hiccup.

Not much else to say about this one -- honest and cute.