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.
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Hey CJ! Idk if you take prompts (I loved your most recent ficlet)
BUT any thoughts on how Buck and Tommy annoy each other (on purpose)??
ahhh thank you so much! I'm always taking prompts, it just sometimes takes me a while to get to them. here's a two-in-one fic for you!
Click. Click. Click. Click. Click click.
Click. Click. Click. Click. Click click.
Tommy looked over across the couch, where Buck was staring down at a crossword as he clicked his pen. Over and over.
“Do you need a new pen?” Tommy asked, keeping his tone calm and casual.
“Huh?” It took a second for Buck to register what he'd asked. “Oh, no. No, I'm good, thanks,” he said, glancing over at him with a smile.
Tommy returned the smile, then went back to reading his magazine.
Click click click clickclick click click.
Tommy took a long, deep breath.
Click click click click click click click click click.
“You sure?” He asked again, his voice going up an octave. “I have a whole drawer of them.”
And they're the kind with caps, he added to himself.
Buck shook his head. “Nope, this one works just fine.”
Click click click click click click. Click. Click. Click.
Click click click click clickclick-
Tommy closed the magazine and squeezed his eyes shut. “For the love of God, Evan, please stop.”
“Ha! So it does bother you!” Buck exclaimed, pointing the pen to Tommy with a triumphant look on his face.
“Does the endless pen clicking bother me? Yeah, maybe a little.”
Buck shook his head, relaxing further into the couch. “Finally.”
“Finally what?”
“I finally found something that makes Mr. Cool lose his cool.”
Tommy huffed out a laugh. “I did not lose my cool, thank you very much.”
“You looked like a pressure cooker that was about to explode.”
“So you were doing all of that just to annoy me?” Tommy asked, a playful glare on his face.
“After about the third click, yes.”
“And if I didn't stop you, you were what? Gonna click the entirety of We Will Rock You?”
Buck tilted his head, looking more impressed than anything now. “Y- You knew the song?”
“Of course I knew the song. Who wouldn't know that song?”
“I just didn't realize I was so talented. I could quit my job, begin a professional career as a click artist.”
Tommy opened his magazine back up, crossing one leg over the other. “I'd stick with firefighting if I were you.”
They were just settling back into a peaceful silence when:
Click click.
“Okay.” Tommy reached across the couch and pulled the pen out of Buck's hand before getting up and heading for the trash.
“Wait! No!” Buck exclaimed. “I just had to finish the line in the song. I was done.”
Tommy raised the lid to the garbage can and dropped the pen in it. “You can get another pen out of the drawer beside you. One with a cap,” he added quickly, “not a clicker.”
“You're no fun,” Buck teased, opening the drawer and grabbing another pen. “Oh, I see some clickers in here, Babe. I could do a rendition of Come Sail Away for you!”
Tommy walked back over to Buck, standing right in front of him on the couch. “I love you, Evan, but if you so much as touch another click pen I will leave.”
Buck snorted out a laugh, staring up at his boyfriend. “This is your house, Tommy!”
“I'll sign it over to you.”
Buck reached up and tugged on Tommy's shirt until he was hovering over him, one hand on the armrest and the other on the back of the couch. “Has anyone ever told you you're dramatic?” Buck asked, pulling Tommy in for a kiss.
“My drama teacher, third grade,” he replied with a nod. “Mrs. Collier.”
Buck gave Tommy one more kiss before letting him go. “I'll have to send her a note, tell her she was right.”
“Well, she was about seventy when I was in her class,” Tommy informed him, sitting back down in his seat, “so you'll have to search her address on Find a Grave.”
He resumed his magazine reading as Buck got back into his crossword...
Until about two minutes later, when Buck began drumming the new pen on his thigh. This time, he was seemingly completely unaware of what he was doing.
Tommy headed to bed early that night.
**********
The first time it happened, Buck was surprised, but he didn't say anything about it.
The second time, he laughed a bit, and when Tommy asked what was so funny he just shrugged and said he'd never seen anyone do that before.
The third time, he thought he might die.
“Did you, um, did you use a fork to scoop out the butter?” he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as humanly possible.
Tommy breezed by, grabbing a drink out of the fridge on his way to the garage for a work out. “Yeah. Had toast this morning.” He gave Buck a pat on the ass before heading out the door.
Buck immediately pulled a knife out of a drawer and smoothed out the butter.
It shouldn't have been a big deal. Realistically, Buck knew that.
But there was something so jarring about opening a container of butter only to see that it was littered with stab wounds.
It felt wrong.
It felt like a crime.
The fourth time it happened, it was the day after he and Tommy had gotten into an argument. Nothing too serious, and they had made up by the time they went to bed.
But Tommy had made himself dinner that night and he'd decided on scrambled eggs.
Which meant he'd first put butter in the pan so the eggs wouldn't stick.
Buck didn't want to another fight right now, so he kept quiet and fixed the butter once again, then went about his day.
The fifth time it happened, Buck was ready to throw every fork in the house away. He could no longer remain silent on such a serious issue. It needed to be discussed, and it needed to be discussed now.
There was no better time, as Tommy was opening their mail at the dining room table while Buck started on dinner.
“Uh, Tommy?”
“Yeah, Babe?”
“We, um, I- I need to talk to you.”
Tommy looked up from the mail and over to where Buck stood in the kitchen. “Uh oh,” he said when he saw the look on Buck face. “You sound serious.”
“Yeah, I- it. It's the butter, Tommy. I- Most people use a knife when they're getting butter, but you're using a fork, and it makes the butter look all stabby and I've just been fixing it myself every time I see it, but I really don't understand why you can't use a knife, or even a spoon, ya know?” He was rambling, but once he started he couldn't seem to stop. “It looks so much better if you use a knife because then it keeps that smooth, buttery texture instead of looking like its been to war and-” he stopped when he noticed that Tommy was smiling at him. “What?” he asked.
“I knew you'd break eventually.”
“Wh- What do you mean?”
Tommy picked up a pen from the table, holding his arm out straight in front of him.
Click. Click. Click. Click. Click click.
When it hit him, Buck gasped, his eyes widening. “That was months ago!” he exclaimed. “We weren't even living together then!”
“And yet I've never forgotten,” Tommy replied, feeling a sense of vindication.
“You're diabolical.” He held the tub of butter out toward Tommy. “This could be considered a form of torture, you know?”
Tommy stood and walked over to Buck. “What would they call it? Butter-forking?” he asked, taking the tub from Buck and getting a knife from the drawer. He began smoothing the butter out himself, until it looked perfect on top. “Better?” he asked, showing Buck his work.
Buck turned his head to the side dramatically, staring out the kitchen window. “I don't know if we'll get past this.”
Tommy put the butter down, moving closer to Buck and placing his hands on his waist. “Could we try?” he asked. “I'd hate to tell the caterers we had to cancel the wedding on a count of me forking butter. Especially since it sounds shockingly close to doing something else with butter.”
Buck shuddered when he realized what Tommy meant. He looked up at him through his eyelashes. “Will you never destroy the sanctity of our butter with your fork ever again?”
“I will try my best,” Tommy promised. “As long as you continue to stay away from clickable pens.”
Buck sighed. “There goes the last chances of my career as a musical clicker,” he said with a pout, wrapping his arms around Tommy's shoulders.
“And there goes my career as a professional butter stabber,” Tommy replied, his hands tightening on Buck's waist as he got rid of his pout with a kiss.
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