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bixels · 2 months

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Learning that fans hated Applejack and called her "boring" is crazyyy to me because I genuinely, unironically believe AJ's the most complex character in the main six.

Backstory-wise, she was born into a family of famers/blue collar workers who helped found the town she lives in. She grew up a habitual liar until she had the bad habit traumatized outta her. She lost both her parents and was orphaned at a young age, having to step up as her baby sister's mother figure. She's the only person in the main gang who's experienced this level of loss and grief (A Royal Problem reveals that AJ dreams about memories of being held by her parents as a baby). She moved to Manhattan to live with her wealthy family members, only to realize she'll never fit in or be accepted, even amongst her own family. The earlier seasons imply she and her family had money problems too (In The Ticket Master, AJ wants to go to the gala to earn money to buy new farm equipment and afford hip surgery for her grandma).

Personality-wise, she's a total people-pleaser/steamroller (with an occasional savior complex) who places her self worth on her independence and usefulness for other people, causing her to become a complete workaholic. In Applebuck Season, AJ stops taking care of herself because of her obsessive responsibilities for others and becomes completely dysfunctional. In Apple Family Reunion, AJ has a tearful breakdown because in she thinks she dishonored her family and tarnished her reputation as a potential leader –– an expectation and anxiety that's directly tied to her deceased parents, as shown in the episode's ending scene. In The Last Roundup, AJ abandons her family and friends out of shame because believes she failed them by not earning 1st place in a rodeo competition. She completely spirals emotionally when she isn't able to fulfill her duties toward others. Her need to be the best manifests in intense pride and competitiveness when others challenge her. And when her pride's broken, she cowers and physically hides herself.

Moreover, it's strongly implied that AJ has a deep-seated anger. The comics explore her ranting outbursts more. EQG also obviously has AJ yelling at and insulting Rarity in a jealous fit just to hurt her feelings (with a line that I could write a whole dissection on). And I'm certain I read in a post somewhere that in a Gameloft event, AJ's negative traits are listed as anger.

Subtextually, a lot of these flaws and anxieties can be (retroactively) linked to her parents' death, forcing her to grow up too quickly to become the adult/caregiver of the family (especially after her big brother becomes semiverbal). Notice how throughout the series, she's constantly acting as the "mom friend" of the group (despite everything, she manages to be the most emotionally mature of the bunch). Notice how AJ'll switch to a quieter, calmer tone when her friends are panicking and use soothing prompts and questions to talk them through their emotions/problems; something she'd definitely pick up while raising a child. Same with her stoicism and reluctance at crying or releasing emotions (something Pinkie explicitly points out). She also had a childhood relationship with Rara (which, if you were to give a queer reading, could easy be interpreted as her first 'aha' crush), who eventually left her life. (Interestingly enough, AJ also has an angry outburst with Rara for the same exact reasons as with EQG Rarity; jealous, upset that someone else is using and changing her). It's not hard to imagine an AJ with separation anxiety stemming from her mother and childhood friend/crush leaving. I'm also not above reading into AJ's relationship with her little sister (Y'all ever think about how AB never got to know her parents, even though she shares her father's colors and her mother's curly hair?).

AJ's stubbornness is a symptom of growing up too quickly as well. Who else to play with your baby sister when your brother goes nonverbal (not to discount Big Mac's role in raising AB)? Who else to wake up in the middle of the night to care for your crying baby sister when your grandma needs her rest? When you need to be 100% all the time for your family, you tend to become hard-stuck with a sense of moral superiority. You know what's best because you have to be your best because if you're aren't your best, then everything'll inevitably fall apart and it'll be your fault. And if you don't know what's best –– if you've been wrong the whole time –– that means you haven't been your best, which means you've failed the people who rely on you, which means you can't fulfill your role in the family/society, which makes you worthless . We've seen time and time again how this compulsive need to be right for the sake of others becomes self-destructive (Apple Family Reunion, Sound of Silence, all competitions against RD). We've seen in The Last Roundup how, when no longer at her best, AJ would rather remove herself from her community than confront them because she no longer feels of use to them.

But I guess it is kinda weird that AJ has "masculine" traits and isn't interested in men at all. It's totally justified that an aggressively straight, misogynistic male fandom would characterize her as a "boring background character." /s

At the time of writing this, it's 4:46AM.

#mlp #yeah i wrote this last night during insomnia.#yeah i know an embarrassing amount of crap about this kids show #but whatever it's my hyperfixation i'll store as much useless information as i want!!!#i'm gay and neurodivergent i have an excuse #in case you needed more proof that aj's my favorite character #personal #delete later #unless you like this analysis stuff #i get why they didn't reveal aj's parent's death until way later and why they didn't do much with it but i wish they did #cuz narratively there could've been so much material with aj's grief. like. i feel like we gloss over the fact that she lost her #mother and father as a teenager #i tried keeping my personal hcs out of this to keep it unbiased #but i'll put some in the tags #involving rarijack –– i think aj can be (but not always) very self-conscious about her relationship with rarity #anxieties that she's not the right fit or that rarity will move away and leave her some day or that another woman will take her attention #(like in rollercoaster of friendship?? nudge nudge??). basic seperation anxiety stuff #long post #regarding applebloom whenever i think about her and her parents i think about that scene in steven universe where steven looks up at #a portrait of his mother and openly wonders what kind of sack lunches she would've made for him. that episode still fucks me up

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anonymousewrites · 3 months

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Burden of Truth (Book 1) Prologue

Father Figure! Marc Spector x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Steven Grant x Teen! Reader

Mother Figure! Layla El-Faouly x Teen! Reader

Prologue: On the Precipice

Summary: In 2018, (Y/N) discovers grief as people turn to dust and the world turns to chaos.

Mouse Note: Welcome to Burden of Truth! Kind of a rough beginning, but, hey, how else do you become an Avatar to a god? Anyways, housekeeping: This is a platonic fic, so anyone who suggests anything inappropriate between an adult and minor will be blocked and deleted. That's pretty much it, but I wanted to make it clear. As for the actual fic, there aren't any warnings other than the violence that Marvel shows. I'm really excited to share this series! Please feel free to comment since I'm always up to answering questions and replying to comments. Plus it makes me keep writing. Without further ado, though, please enjoy!

2018…

(Y/N) gasped for breath, but their lungs refused to bring in the air they needed. Every limb ached, and their heart beat against their chest. It stuttered, refusing to work correctly. The edges of (Y/N)’s visions blurred to black.

Everything had gone wrong. They had thought this summer would be a beautiful one, traveling with their parents. Egypt was lovely, and (Y/N) liked to listen to their parents—anthropology and history professors—tell them about the rich history and culture of the country.

Plus, they were far away from New York where strange aliens had recently attacked and fought Iron Man and a strange wizard. They were safe with their family and free to enjoy themself.

And then people turned to dust.

Screams echoed as loved ones disappeared before people’s very eyes. Cars crashed without drivers. Buses overturned and threw out people and sand. Cries went out as crashes sent metal through limbs—through torsos.

Through (Y/N)’s torso.

(Y/N) couldn’t even move to cover their chest as it bled. They didn’t try to. They knew they were dying. They didn’t want to (gods, please, no, I don’t want this I don’t want this) but they were.

And they couldn’t even reach out to hold their mom and dad’s hands. (Y/N) felt like a child again, but unlike nightmares, they couldn’t run to their parents’ arms to feel safe. Even if they could, the chill of death had already taken their parents’ warmth and comfort.

(Y/N) wished they’d all turned to dust. This was violent, painful, agonizing. Their parents had laid beside them in distress, calling out for help and rescue, dying. No one had come.

And now (Y/N) was alone—the world hadn’t even been kind enough to let them die before their parents.

This was just so wrong. Unfair. Unjust.

“It is unjust.” A calm voice spoke.

(Y/N) didn’t move. They couldn’t, and they were already dying. Their situation couldn’t get worse.

“I can feel your pain.”

This time, a woman, taller than humanely possible, appeared in their line of sight. She knelt among the dust and bodies of the bus and gazed at (Y/N).

She was Egyptian, dressed in a red gown, and wore an intricate necklace of gold and turquoise. Multicolored Sleeves swept out with her arms like wings. Silky black hair fell around her shoulders, and her eyes were lined in kohl. An ostrich feather stood in a circlet and swayed in the wind.

(Y/N)’s eyes landed on the feather, and something in their chest pulled towards it.

The woman tilted her head and watched them in assessment. “You sense the truth.”

“Who…” (Y/N)’s hoarse voice died.

“I am the goddess Ma’at.” The wind whipped around her as she spoke. “I am in search of a guardian. To uphold justice in the face of wrongdoing. To protect harmony from discord. To defend truth from falsehood.”

(Y/N) coughed, and Ma’at tilted her head.

“I can see the truth in your heart. You want justice for everyone who suffers like you,” said Ma’at. She leaned in. “Pledge yourself to me, pledge yourself to the truth, and I will give you the life to do so.”

(Y/N) looked into Ma’at’s eyes and summoned all their strength left.

“Yes.”

2023…

(Y/N) crouched on the roof and dropped onto the balcony below them. The house around them was quiet. The security guards were clueless to their approach, which was just fine. They didn’t want any attention.

(Y/N) opened the sliding door of the balcony and slipped into the display room. They glanced around themself in distaste. None of the artifacts in glass cases belonged to the owner of this house. He’d “acquired” them in the aftermath of the Blip left countries in disarray, just so like many others.

After the return of the Blipped, the problem of stolen artifacts had only gotten worse since the chaos had begun again, letting more people profit off the displaced people and their possessions.

(Y/N) had spent years repatriating the stolen relics from the aftermath of the Blip. This man, Mr. Medrano, was among the worst offenders. He lied about his findings as an “archaeologist” and stole what he needed for glory. And along the way, he removed any competition. A thief, a liar, and a killer. Medrano was a man who brought injustice of all kinds to the world.

And that was precisely what (Y/N) stood against—what Ma’at stood against.

(Y/N) stopped in front of a case of Egyptian artifacts. Their eyes scanned the contents for the relic they were supposed to bring back to Egypt (send back, really, by way of another person. (Y/N) was still just a teenager, so they couldn’t send it back themself without raising suspicions. Luckily, putting something in a hidden box and not showing their face did the trick).

(Y/N) frowned. The hieroglyphic tablet of Tethering wasn’t on the wall. It seemed they were later than expected, and Medrano had begun to work on translation.

Which means it’ll be in his office.

(Y/N) went to the door of the display room and peeked outside. No light, no movement. They moved into the hall and crept down towards the room at the other side of the house. Making sure their gloves were on—no sense leaving fingerprints—(Y/N) reached out and felt the door handle.

The door was unlocked.

Gently, (Y/N) opened it.

Shick!

(Y/N)’s eyes widened, and they took a step back. A man in a white, bandage-like suit stood above Medrano. He pulled two crescent-shaped blades from his chest, and Medrano’s body slumped to the ground. The man paused and looked towards the door, the moon sighting the crescent-illusion in his hood and the symbol on the forehead and chest.

“There wasn’t supposed to be anyone here,” said the man, but (Y/N) felt in their heart that he wasn’t speaking to them.

“Does it matter? Your job is to punish the wrongdoers in this mansion.”

(Y/N) blinked as they heard a voice echo from behind them. It was a god’s voice. Not Ma’at, no, but most definitely a deity.

“I won’t hurt a kid, Khonshu,” snapped the avatar, and his hood folded back.

(Y/N) turned around and found themself staring up (really up) at a half-man, half-bird skeleton in white wrappings. This was Khonshu.

“I’m not a wrongdoer,” said (Y/N) to Khonshu, holding up their hands. “I’m, uh, an Avatar.”

At that, Khonshu and man stopped.

“You can see him?” said the man, frowning warily.

“I’m the Avatar of Ma’at,” said (Y/N). They shifted. They weren’t used to saying that. “She’s the goddess of truth.” They could see the “truth” of the world more than others, and that included the gods that walked among them.

“That ostrich is interfering with my work,” said Khonshu, irritated.

“You are the one who is not supposed to interfere with human business,” said Ma’at’s calm voice, and (Y/N) glanced at the office’s large window to find her sitting on the sill.

Khonshu’s avatar looked at the window but saw nothing. “Is another god here?”

(Y/N) nodded sharply. This was a little too much. They were used to working by themself.

“You are doing the exact same thing,” said Khonshu.

“I am returning artifacts to our people,” said Ma’at. “I am not interfering in human life more than that.” She glanced at Medrano’s body. “Unlike some.”

Khonshu tsked. “I am delivering justice.”

“A type, yes,” said Ma’at.

“Ma’at,” said (Y/N) quietly. “I’m going to take the tablet..”

“Go ahead, (Y/N),” said Ma’at. “Khonshu will not harm you. You have done no wrong.”

“They interfered with my work,” said Khonshu.

“Irritating is not wrongdoing,” said Ma’at.

(Y/N) decided to leave before the gods continued to argue. It made them uncomfortable. Then again, a lot of interaction did. (Y/N) hadn’t really gotten to slow down and make friends after 2018, so they’d grown used to their own company (or Ma’at’s). Everything else was business, and anything more was out of their realm of understanding.

(Y/N) opened their bag and slipped the wrapped tablet carefully from the table inside. They looked decidedly away from Medrano’s body, glanced at Khonshu’s avatar, and left the room.

If that’s what Avatars and gods outside of themself and Ma’at were like, (Y/N) didn’t want to meet them.

2025…

“(Y/N).”

The now-seventeen-year-old raised their eyes from the book they were reading. “Yes, Ma’at?”

“I have an important job for you.”

(Y/N) frowned. Ma’at never described anything as “important.” Necessary? Yes. Important? No. Everything was equally pertinent to upholding justice and order to Ma’at.

“I need you to retrieve a scarab.”

“Who stole it?” asked (Y/N).

“You are.”

(Y/N) looked at Ma’at in surprise. “What?” Ma’at disliked any injustice or unlawful actions.

“You are stealing the scarab of Ammit,” said Ma’at.

Ammit.

Ammit ruled the scales in the Judgement of the Dead. Ma’at was the Feather of Truth against which human hearts were weighed. One had abandoned true justice; one continued to defend it.

And (Y/N) was stuck in the middle with the burden to protect the truth of it all.

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