Stuck with you for a bit. (Verity)


                                            >Be Anon.

                                            >Be an earth pony stallion, not by choice.

                                            >Thanks, Twilight.

                                            >5 months ago, you were a regular-ass human doing regular-ass human things.

                                            >Now?

                                            >You're a green-coated horse with a black mane, a tail, and a question mark on your butt.

                                            >If that isn't an existential crisis waiting to happen, you don't know what is.

                                            >Walking down the dirt path outside Ponyville, your new home in sight.

                                            >Celestia, in her infinite wisdom (and guilt), gave you a house as an apology for Twilight’s little 'accident'.

                                            >Also, she didn’t want you mooching off Twilight anymore because apparently you were "driving her insane".

                                            >You call it payback for turning you into a damn pony.

                                            >Either way, free house.

                                            >You were told it needed a lot of work, so you expected a dump.

                                            >Instead, what you got was a damn fine little cottage just outside of town.

                                            >Two story structure, wooden beams, and a thatched roof that actually looked solid.

                                            >Front porch with a creaky swing that had some charm.

                                            >Windows weren’t shattered, only a little dusty.

                                            >Even had a decent-sized yard, a little overgrown but nothing you couldn’t handle.

                                            >Some of the shutters looked loose, front gate hung a little crooked, and you could see a crack in the stone foundation, but overall?

                                            >Nicest damn place you’ve ever lived in.

                                            >Now, to actually get inside.

                                            "Come on, you stupid lock...".

                                            >You fumble with the keys in your mouth, dropping them for the third time.

                                            >Grumbling, you sit down, pick them up again, and attempt to twist them in the lock with your hooves.

                                            "I swear to Celestia, being an earth pony is the worst. No magic, no wings, just dumb hooves. This sucks."

                                            >You glare at the key, as if sheer willpower will make it cooperate.

                                            >Five agonizing minutes later, you finally hear the click of success.


                                            >Pushing the door open, you step into your new home.

                                            >The air is stale, dust particles floating in the sunlight filtering through the windows.

                                            >Wooden floors, some slightly warped but fixable.

                                            >Stone fireplace in the corner, perfect for cold nights.

                                            >Kitchen looks functional, if a bit outdated.

                                            >Some old furniture covered in sheets, and a staircase leading to the second floor.

                                            >Even has an old rocking chair in the corner, which may or may not be haunted.

                                            >Decent.

                                            >More than decent.

                                            >Now, time to air this place out and-

                                            >Rustle.

                                            >Your ears perk up.

                                            >The sound came from upstairs.

                                            >You freeze.

                                            >Either you’ve got squatters or this house comes with ghosts.

                                            >Neither of those are high on your list of ‘shit I want to deal with today’

                                            >Steeling yourself, you cautiously trot up the stairs, each step creaking slightly under your weight.

                                            >The noise leads you to one of the rooms at the end of the hall.

                                            >Pushing the door open, you find-

                                            >A filly.

                                            >Small, trembling, and curled up in the corner near an old dresser.

                                            >Brown coat, blonde mane, big brown eyes staring up at you in sheer terror.

                                            >A white diamond marking sits between her eyes.

                                            >She looks like she’s been living here for a while, fur matted, ribs just barely visible under her coat.

                                            >Your heart clenches.


                                            "Uh... hey there, kid. You lost or somethin’?"

                                            >She doesn’t answer, just shrinks back further.

                                            >You sigh.

                                            >You don’t know jack about kids, but you do know when someone’s scared out of their mind.

                                            >Taking a slow step closer, you soften your voice.

                                            "You hungry?"

                                            >Her ears twitch.

                                            >Bingo.

                                            >You back off a little, making yourself look less threatening.

                                            "I got some apples and carrots in my bag. You want some?"

                                            >Carefully, you nudge the saddlebag off your back and place it on the floor, opening it to reveal the fresh produce.

                                            >The filly stares at the food, her little stomach rumbling again.

                                            >Her hooves twitch like she wants to move but doesn’t quite trust you yet.

                                            "Go ahead."

                                            >After a long hesitation, she slowly creeps forward, eyeing you warily before grabbing an apple and taking a hesitant bite.

                                            >The way her expression softens at the taste makes your chest ache a little.

                                            >She chews quickly, clearly starving, but still keeps one eye on you, as if afraid you’ll take it away.

                                            >You sit down, giving her some space.

                                            "So, what's your name, kid?"

                                            >No response, just more quiet munching.

                                            >You sigh and grab a blanket from your saddlebag, unfolding it and gently placing it beside her.

                                            "Look, I don’t know where you came from, but you can stay here tonight. I’ll figure out what to do in the morning."

                                            >The filly freezes at first, staring at the blanket, then at you.

                                            >Slowly, she pulls it around herself, still watching you warily.

                                            >You let out a tired chuckle, lying back against the wall.

                                            "I’m not gonna bite, kid. Just get some rest."


                                            >She hesitates, then gives the smallest of nods.

                                            >Morning arrives, and the filly is still curled up in the blanket, sleeping soundly.

                                            >You stretch, cracking your neck, before deciding that you need advice.

                                            >Sweet Apple Acres isn’t too far, and Applejack’s always been good at giving you straightforward answers.

                                            >You gently nudge the filly awake.

                                            "C’mon, kid. We’re getting breakfast."

                                            >She blinks sleepily, hesitant, but eventually follows you.

                                            >The walk to Sweet Apple Acres is quiet, save for the sound of your hooves on the dirt path.

                                            >Applejack spots you from the porch, giving you a curious look as you approach.

                                            "Mornin’, sugarcube. Who’s this little one?"

                                            >You let out a breath, glancing down at the filly, who shuffles nervously behind you.

                                            "That’s what I was hoping you could help me figure out. Found her in my house last night. No idea where she came from."

                                            >Applejack’s expression softens instantly, her protective instincts kicking in.

                                            >"Well shoot, poor thing looks half-starved. Come on in, we’ll get her some grub."

                                            >Inside, Applejack sets out a plate of apple fritters, the smell making the filly’s stomach growl.

                                            >She hesitantly starts eating while Applejack turns back to you.

                                            >"Reckon we oughta check around town, see if anypony knows her. Maybe even take her to the hospital, just to be sure she’s alright."

                                            >Applejack kneels beside the filly, speaking gently.

                                            >"Hey there, sugarcube. What’s yer name?"

                                            >The filly hesitates, looking between you and Applejack before murmuring softly, "Verity."

                                            >You and Applejack share a glance.

                                            >At least now, she wasn’t just some nameless lost filly.

                                            >And that made things feel a little more real.

                                            >After breakfast, Applejack leans against the table, crossing her hooves.

                                            >"Tell ya what, Anon. Ah’ll head into town and ask around about Verity, see if anypony’s missin’ a filly. In the meantime, y’all should take her to the hospital, make sure she’s alright."


                                            >You nod, appreciating the help.

                                            "Thanks, AJ. I owe you one."

                                            >She waves you off with a smile.

                                            "Just doin’ what’s right. Ah’ll meet y’all at the hospital when Ah’m done."

                                            >You and Verity head out, the filly sticking close to you, wary of the passing ponies.

                                            >At the hospital, Nurse Redheart greets you, quickly setting up an exam.

                                            >The doctor confirms that she’s malnourished but otherwise unharmed.

                                            >She’s given a small meal and a warm blanket, relaxing slightly for the first time.

                                            >As you wait for Applejack, you can’t shake the feeling that Verity doesn’t have anywhere else to go.

                                            >Applejack arrives a little while later, shaking her head.

                                            >"Ain’t nopony in town claimin’ her, sugarcube. Ah asked all around."

                                            >Verity stiffens slightly, ears flattening.

                                            >You glance at her, then at Applejack.

                                            "So what now?"

                                            >Applejack sighs, looking between you and the filly.

                                            >"Well... looks like she might be stuck with you for a bit."

                                            >Verity’s eyes widen slightly, looking up at you with uncertainty. You sigh, knowing this responsibility just got a lot bigger.

                                            >You and Applejack sit outside the hospital, the afternoon sun casting long shadows as you discuss what it would mean to take care of Verity.

                                            >She listens quietly, sitting close by, ears perked as if waiting for a decision to be made.

                                            >Applejack offers to help with food and basic supplies, even suggesting a job at Sweet Apple Acres if you need more bits.

                                            >She reassures you that you won’t be alone in this.

                                            >The thought of having a filly in your home and adjusting your life weighs heavily on you.

                                            >You’re not sure you’re ready for this responsibility, but looking at Verity, her small frame, her cautious but hopeful eyes, you know she needs someone.

                                            >Verity doesn’t say much, but she stays close, clinging to your side more than before.

                                            >When Applejack ruffles her mane with a reassuring smile, the filly barely reacts, but her tail flicks slightly in what might be appreciation.

                                            "Alright... You ready to go shopping, kid?"

                                            >Verity hesitates for a second before nodding, taking a small but significant step closer.

                                            >She’s beginning to trust you.

                                            >Applejack smiles at you both.

                                            >"Ah think that’s a good idea. But before y’all do, Ah’d suggest stoppin’ by Twilight’s place. She might have some advice on what to do next."

                                            >She gives you a firm nod, then turns to Verity with a reassuring look.

                                            >"You be good for Anon, alright? He’s a good fella."

                                            >Verity glances up at her, ears twitching before giving a small nod.

                                            >Applejack tips her hat, wishes you both luck, and starts walking toward her home, leaving you alone with Verity once more.


                                            >One Week Later.

                                            >Life with Verity has settled into a cautious routine.

                                            >She’s still quiet, still wary, but she’s starting to talk a little more, just short responses and nods, nothing too much.

                                            >She still hesitates before speaking, as if gauging whether she should say anything at all.

                                            >The house is looking better, mostly thanks to her.

                                            >Turns out, Verity has a knack for fixing things.

                                            >You came home one afternoon to find her frowning at a wobbly chair, screwdriver in mouth, determined to make it stop wobbling.

                                            >She doesn’t complain, doesn’t comment, just fixes things quietly and efficiently.

                                            >You took up Applejack’s offer to work at Sweet Apple Acres.

                                            >It turns out that kids are expensive, and the small allowance you were getting from Celestia wasn't enough for you and Verity to live off of.

                                            >Applejack still makes sure you’ve got what you need to take care of Verity.

                                            >Verity comes with you to Sweet Apple Acres while you work, mostly keeping to herself, but always staying within sight.

                                            >Applebloom, ever persistent, keeps trying to befriend her, offering to show her around the farm, inviting her to play, even bringing her little gifts.

                                            >Verity doesn’t say much in response, but she doesn’t push Applebloom away either, which is probably the best sign of progress you could hope for.

                                            >Twilight has been looking into any records or reports on missing foals, but so far, nothing concrete.

                                            >One evening, after a long day, you decide to make something simple for dinner, mac and cheese.

                                            >It’s cheap, easy, and something even you can’t mess up too badly.

                                            >Verity pokes at the bowl at first, hesitant.

                                            >Then, after the first bite, she freezes.

                                            >You raise an eyebrow.

                                            "Good?"

                                            >She gives a quick, almost embarrassed nod before going back to eating, this time at a faster pace.

                                            >You smirk.

                                            "Didn’t take you for a mac and cheese fan, kid."

                                            >She swallows and shrugs.

                                            >"S’good," she mutters.

                                            >You take the win.

                                            >From that night on, mac and cheese becomes a staple in your household.

                                            >Small steps, but they’re steps forward. And for now, that’s enough.


                                            ~


                                            >Sun beats down like Celestia herself is testing your endurance

                                            >Muscles ache, hooves sore, sweat and dirt clings to your coat like a second skin

                                            >You buck another tree, feeling the satisfying thud as apples rain into the baskets below, you're getting good at this.

                                            >Just another day at Sweet Apple Acres

                                            >You pause, wiping your forehead, chest rising and falling with steady breaths

                                            >The orchard hums with the sounds of rustling leaves.

                                            >You hear hoofsteps in the dirt, familiar and steady

                                            >Applejack approaches, her trademark smirk already in place

                                            >"Take a break, Anon. Come look at somethin’."

                                            >You flick an ear, and glance at her

                                            >Not about to argue, you know she wouldn’t pull you away unless it was worth it

                                            >Wipe the sweat off your brow, shake some dust from your hooves, and follow her

                                            >The ground crunches beneath you both, a faint summer breeze carrying the scent of apples.

                                            >She stops near the fence, nodding toward the open field ahead.

                                            >4 little ponies dart back and forth.

                                            >Applebloom, Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and… Verity

                                            >They’re kicking around an old ball, hooves thumping against the ground in an impromptu game of soccer

                                            >The air is filled with high-pitched laughter and playful shouts

                                            >But what really stops you in your tracks is Verity

                                            >She’s laughing.

                                            >A real, unrestrained, filly laugh.

                                            >Her short, scruffy mane bounces as she runs, her little hooves moving without hesitation

                                            >Her brown eyes are bright, shining, carefree

                                            >No fear. No hesitation. No guarded look in her eyes.

                                            >Just a filly, playing.

                                            >You feel something tighten in your chest, something warm and bittersweet

                                            >This is the first time you’ve ever seen her like this

                                            >You’re so lost in the moment that you don’t even notice Applejack watching you

                                            >She gives you a knowing nudge

                                            >"C’mon, sugarcube. Let’s grab some cider and cool off in the shade."

                                            >You nod, stealing one last glance at Verity before following her


                                            >The large apple tree near the barn offers blessed shade, the thick branches shielding you from the afternoon sun

                                            >You collapse onto the grass with a relieved sigh, back pressed against the cool earth

                                            >Applejack chuckles and passes you a bottle of Sweet Apple Acres cider.

                                            >You crack it open and take a drink, crisp, sweet, refreshing

                                            >You’re pretty sure this cider is the closest thing to divinity on this farm

                                            >Applejack leans back against the tree, tipping her hat forward

                                            >"Nothin’ like a cold drink after a long day," she sighs, stretching out her hooves

                                            "Nothing like cider to make me realize I’m slowly dying."

                                            >You mutter, rubbing a sore shoulder.

                                            >She snorts, lifting her hat just enough to shoot you a smirk

                                            >"Ya signed up for this, partner."

                                            "I signed up for honest work, not to be slow-roasted under Celestia’s personal sun lamp."

                                            >She just chuckles and takes another sip

                                            >You sigh, sinking deeper into the grass, letting the exhaustion settle

                                            >After a while, she speaks, voice thoughtful

                                            >"Summer’s almost over. School’s startin’ soon. Might be a good idea to sign Verity up."

                                            >You roll the cider bottle between your hooves

                                            "...Yeah. That’s probably the right call."

                                            >Silence lingers between you two, but it isn’t awkward, just heavy, thoughtful

                                            >Applejack side eyes you

                                            >"Ya worried?"

                                            >You let out a breathy chuckle

                                            "What gave it away? The thousand yard stare or the dramatic silence?"

                                            >"Kinda hard not to be, considerin’ how ya look like you’re starin’ into the meanin’ of life through that cider bottle."

                                            >You huff, shaking your head

                                            "I don’t know what I’m doing, AJ. I keep hoping Twilight will find something, somewhere Verity belongs. But every day, it feels more and more like she doesn’t have anything to go back to."

                                            >Applejack stays quiet, just listening.

                                            >Your ears flick back slightly.

                                            "...I think about adoption, sometimes."


                                            >The words feel heavy, real, like speaking them out loud makes them more than just a thought.

                                            "But what if I mess it up? What if I can’t give her what she needs? What if she grows up resenting me?"

                                            >Applejack watches you for a moment, then suddenly-

                                            >WHAP

                                            >She slaps a hoof against your back so hard you almost spill your cider.

                                            "OW! Jeez! What the hell was that for?

                                            >"Anon, if I had a bit for every time Apple Bloom’s called me the ‘worst big sister ever,’ I’d own half of Canterlot."

                                            >You rub the spot where she smacked you, coughing slightly.

                                            "That bad?"

                                            >Applejack smirks.

                                            >"Kid once wrote a whole letter to Princess Celestia about how I was ‘crushin’ her independent spirit’ ‘cause I wouldn’t let her eat ice cream for breakfast."

                                            >You stare.

                                            "What did the Princess say?"

                                            >Applejack leans back, smug as ever.

                                            >"Told her to listen to her big sister. Then sent me a royal decree sayin’ I was ‘hereby granted full authority over ice cream-related governance.’ Still got it framed."

                                            >You actually laugh, shaking your head

                                            "...Guess I really don’t have an excuse to complain, huh?"

                                            >"Nope," she says, tipping her hat.

                                            >The laughter fades into something quieter, warmer.

                                            >She leans against you slightly, her shoulder pressing into yours, solid and steady.

                                            >"Ain’t nopony got all the answers, Anon. But I see how ya look at that filly. Ya care about her. And if ya care enough to worry about messin’ up? Ya already doin’ somethin’ right."

                                            >The weight in your chest eases just a little.

                                            >you let out a slow breath, really taking in the moment.

                                            "...Thanks, AJ."

                                            >She bumps your shoulder, grinning.

                                            >"Anytime, sugarcube."

                                            >You sit there for a while, cider bottles resting in the grass, just enjoying the peace.


                                            >The sky is painted in hues of orange and pink, the air finally starting to cool.

                                            >Verity walks beside you, her small hooves dragging just a little.

                                            >She’s tired but happy.

                                            "Did you have fun today, kiddo?"

                                            >She nods, blinking sleepily.

                                            >"Mhm..."

                                            >You kneel down, lowering yourself.

                                            "Hop on."

                                            >She hesitates, just for a second, then clambers onto your back.

                                            >Small hooves wrap around your neck, cheek resting against your mane

                                            >Feel her sigh, warm breath tickling your fur.

                                            >"Tomorrow," she mumbles, barely awake.

                                            >"I can play again, right?"

                                            >Smile, adjusting her weight.

                                            "Yeah, kiddo. You can play again."

                                            >Silence for a moment...

                                            >"...You smell weird."

                                            "I’ve been working all day, Verity."

                                            >"You should fix that."

                                            >Huff a tired laugh, shaking your head as you keep walking.

                                            "What do you think you and your friends should do tomorrow?"

                                            >you ask, glancing back at her.

                                            >No response.

                                            >You stop, tilting an ear back, only to realize her head has gone slack against your mane.

                                            >A tiny, slow breath escapes her, peaceful and steady.

                                            >She’s fallen asleep, nestled gently against you.

                                            >A small smile tugs at your lips as you start moving again, keeping your steps slow and steady.

                                            >Just as you think she’s fully out, she shifts slightly, mumbling something almost inaudible.

                                            >"You really need a bath."

                                            >You snort. "Yeah, yeah, I know."

                                            >The little filly on your back doesn’t respond this time, she’s truly asleep now, her breathing soft and even.

                                            >With a small, contented smile, you walk home, carrying the little filly on your back.