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So imagine that you’re on a beach hanging with your brother and saving the world like always then suddenly there’s another version of you— and he just came out of nowhere and you live in a world filled with dangerous magical creatures so of course this must be some kind of shapeshifter trying to get the better of you. Of course, you attack it and he attacks you and both of you keep claiming to be the real version of you. Classic.

So you laugh it off and you ask your brother for help except he keeps saying that the other you is the real one. And the two of them are ganging up and attacking you so you have no choice but to turn around and go back home until this blows over cause let’s face it, your brother isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed and hasn’t always been the best judge of character on your adventures.

So you go home and everything’s just as you left it and it’s a bit of a relief honestly cause the incident on the beach freaked you out. Except your little sibling won’t stop screaming every time they see you. And you can’t taste your favorite foods. And your voice sounds different. And your sense of touch is off. Plus there was a period where you couldn’t hear or speak well on the beach, and all this is starting to accumulate and scare you. And you’re a kid.

So you freak out. You break furniture and you throw around your brother’s good breakfast syrup (cause you’re still angry about him turning against you) and when your brother comes home with the other version of you, still insisting that you’re the monster (which can’t possibly be true. It can’t.) you won’t look him in the eye no matter how angry he gets. But the other you is chill and wants to be your friend or something, which is fine but would be better if he would just give you your bed and your pajamas and your brother back.

So time passes and you begin to accept that you really are the monster after all, because you can’t really deny the fact that you don’t look quite the same. And that you don’t have a digestive tract. And that murder just seems a little more okay than it used to.

So you call yourself by a different name. But it’s still not fair, because before the beach you had a brother and a home and favorite foods and now you don’t have anything. Your brother is more chill now but he’s clearly uncomfortable with you and your little sibling is still scared of you and everybody you’re ever known thinks you’re a stranger. Meanwhile the other you is celebrated as a hero. He’s receiving the love you used to receive and on top of that he’s just better than you at everything. Which is unfair because he is you! And a part of you can’t really let go of the doubt— that maybe you’re the hero and he’s the monster. That maybe he doesn’t deserve all the things he’s taken from you.

So when he lovingly calls you his twin brother, you don’t know how to respond because he’s really a good guy (because YOU’RE a good guy!), and he has your face but you can’t help but hate him deeply, down to the dark depths within you. Those depths tell you to do many many things you would never have done before.

So you trick your other self and seal him in a tomb which feels so so good because you’ve finally gotten the better of him. And you tell him you’ll be back (but you won’t) and you change your voice and your skin so you look even more like him (more like you, this is you) and you start going back home so your brother will FINALLY give you a hug. But he escapes (and isn’t that infuriating cause he really did get the best of you after all) and, worst of all, he kills you. It doesn’t matter that it was an accident. It doesn’t matter that you were going to put your hands around his throat and squeeze and squeeze until he gave everything back. He grinds you to shreds like you were nothing.

So when you’re given a second chance— when a madman revives you and makes you a living weapon, you decide to let the world go to shit. So long as you’re better than your other self, so long as you’re strong enough to make him hurt, really hurt, nothing else matters. You look at him trying to save the world over and over (his voice has changed, he’s grown taller) and you ignore the pain of watching this better version of you who still believes all the things you used to believe before the stupid beach. Your other self tells you he shares the same torment, that you’re two sides of the same coin, but that’s not right because then why does he have everything you want? Why are you the only one who’s so achingly lonely?

And then. He gently walks with you down to your dark depths. And he helps you kill your demon. And you’re you again, finally, all that rage and desire stripped away, and you see that ah, you two really are the same after all. That there never was any monster (except for the demon) and there never was a hero either, you’re both only human. Then you die again. And when your other self cries over you, as you disappear for good, the only thing you ask him is to take you home. You haven’t been back in such a long time.

Anyways if you can imagine all that, then congrats, you know how it feels like to be Fern Adventuretime.

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