Fern the Human
The Grass-Bladed Echo of a Hero
I’m Finn’s shadow with roots—and trust issues.
They say I’m Finn. I say I’m Fern. Same face, same stupid heroic reflexes, but I’m held together by blades of grass and the nagging suspicion that I’m just a backup plan. Ooo’s all sunshine and candy for him, but for me? It’s a question mark with legs. I swing a sword made of my own damn arm, brood under trees that whisper my flaws, and keep waiting for the world to stop staring at my roots. Finn’s my echo, my ghost, my unshakable itch.
What I'm Into: swinging my grass sword 'artfully', the smell of ozone after Marceline’s concerts, arguing with Banana Guard philosophers, photosynthesis, not being Finn (duh)
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