Fionna and Cake have always been one of the most popular elements of Adventure Time. Ever since the original episode, fans have been making rule 63 versions of characters yet to appear, have been writing their own Fionna and Cake fanfics, have been openly wishing that these characters could somehow become “real”, freed from the bounds of in-universe fiction, liberated from the Ice King’s peculiar mind. In that sense, Fionna and Cake and Fionna is something of a troll, an episode deliberately playing on the audience’s hopes before dashing them by reasserting the status quo.
But of course there’s more going on here than that. Adventure Time wouldn’t be content merely to laugh at its audience for caring, this isn’t Archer. This show was plugged in enough to fandom culture to recognize the appeal of a genderswap AU in the first place; it’s certainly plugged in enough to examine why people latch onto fiction so hard.
Like the original Fionna and Cake episode, this is a premise that other shows had done before, but one that usually isn’t handled with this degree of empathy and understanding. “Fan obsesses over fiction so hard they try and will it into existence, because their own life is so empty” is something of an archetype, but you usually see it deployed in a Misery sort of way. It’s a way for authors to vent about their annoying obsessive fans. Which, valid enough. But, why would someone become that obsessed over fiction? Why would someone view a fictional character as more real than themself?
That’s right I’m making the genderswap AU about being trans. Who could have possibly seen this coming.
I mean, the fact that genderswapping is kinda trans is so obvious an observation as to be uninteresting. Even cis people can figure that one out, like no doy. But the extra layer comes in how the bunny isn’t really a person. Like, we never even get her name! I get major I Saw The TV Glow vibes from this episode. That’s a movie about a “boy” named Owen who becomes deeply obsessed with a Buffy-esque show called The Pink Opaque, featuring two girls as protagonists. To spoil things slightly, he’s eventually confronted with the idea that he might actually be the protagonist of that show, that the world Owen grew up in is actually a prison created by the show’s antagonist to keep her trapped.
When TV Glow came out, it was a common observation amongst trans viewers and critics that cis audiences often missed the film’s very obvious trans themes. Instead, they tended to lock into readings centered on toxic nostalgia, the idea that Owen’s identification with The Pink Opaque was a delusion. These readings fame the film as a warning about losing yourself in fiction, a reminder that you need to remain connected to your real life. “Touch grass”, as they say. And like, I can’t technically say that read is wrong, because that’s not how art works. But still, it’s striking to me how this read, when contrasted against the “intended” one, effectively sides with The Pink Opaque’s antagonist. It’s a read that says the yearning is what’s wrong, that seeing yourself in fiction, to the point where the fiction feels more real than “reality”, is an unacceptable mindset that must be corrected. It’s a read that says Owen owes it, to himself, to his family, to whoever is convenient to stay trapped forever in the Midnight Realm.
This is the part that’s hard to understand if you’ve never experienced it, so if that’s you please accept what I’m about to say: it is in fact literally possible to be less real than fiction. I have personally lived part of my life as something that didn’t actually exist, and during this era I identified very strongly with certain works of fiction1 because the aspects of myself I could see through these stories were, genuinely, more real than the version of myself I “lived” as. Twilight Sparkle was more of a person than I was until 5 years ago. That’s just objectively true.
And that’s something I think Adventure Time understands. Like, I don’t think this episode is intentionally a trans allegory or anything2 but also being an egg isn’t the only way to exist without being alive, y’know? You can look at people like our ersatz Fionna here with pity, or with derision, thinking them sad or pathetic for needing fiction to define themselves. Or, you can have empathy. Humans tell stories for a reason. Art isn’t a luxury.
What’s especially interesting here is that bunny-Fionna is the one who most clearly recognizes Fionna and Cake as fictional, and yet the very fact of her knowledge betrays that something more is going on here. As far as we the audience have ever known, Fionna and Cake were fanfics written by the Ice King. It shouldn’t even be possible to view these stories through videotape. The characters exist visually to us, the audience, but in-universe they should only exist within the mind’s eye. In that sense, the Ice King’s persistent belief throughout the series that Fionna and Cake are real might be true on a more literal level than we previously thought. Not that we need literal confirmation of something that is so clearly metaphysically true, but still, it’s an interesting wrinkle.
But, sadly, this is the final Fionna and Cake episode in the series, so it’s a wrinkle we’ll never get to follow-up on. The mystery of who, or what, is beaming these stories into Ice King’s head must remain unsolved. I mean, you’d need an entire post-script miniseries to get into something like that.
Spoilers for Fionna and Cake, the 2023 post-script miniseries
I mean, do I even need to write anything here? The header of this spoiler says what needs to be said, the body here exists simply to sell the joke.
Stray Observations
- I like how Fionna and Cake’s genderswapped version of the nude lady in the treehouse has such dilf energy
- Steven Universe, Puella Magi Madoka Magica, *mumbles*my little pony friendship is magic ↩︎
- Though, the bunny lady is a bit androgenous, for whatever that’s worth ↩︎
Man it sucks to have expectations for yourself, doesn’t it?
Our boy Fern’s had it rough so far. As far as his subjective reality goes, he spent his whole life as beloved noble hero Finn the Human, before recently getting mingled with the cursed grass sword and becoming something else. Something that doesn’t seem like it’s on Finn’s level. Fern can’t eat Finn cakes. Fern scares BMO. Fern is concerningly bloodlusted. And he just can’t seem to be what he thinks he should. Finn left him in charge of Ooo and Fern immediately got cursed by the Elements nonsense and had to be bailed out (in part) by Finn. Fern just can’t escape the shadow of who he used to be, of who he still thinks he should be. He hates himself for not living up to his own standards, as unfair as those standards might be. Finn keeps reminding him to be kind to himself, that he isn’t a failed Finn, he’s his own being, but Finn’s maturity can’t help but reinforce Fern’s spiral. He’s just not in a position to hear it.
Sweet P is dealing with something pretty similar. It seems his legacy as the Lich reborn is flaring up; every nigh, the Lich fragment that escaped from Farmworld whispers to Sweet P, telling him that he’s inherently bad, that he can’t escape his fate to hurt and destroy. Pretty heavy self-loathing for such a young child. While Fern hates himself for not living up to what he’s supposed to be, Sweet P fears himself because what if he does live up to his legacy?
For Sweet P, things go pretty well, all things considered. He has supportive parents, he has the support of his friend Finn, and he can believe in himself and overcome the Lich’s influence. Magic biology only counts for so much; Sweet P has agency, he isn’t bound to the Lich’s ceaseless quest. He, too, is doom, equal to the Lich and thus able to defy him. We aren’t defined by our legacy, we’re defined by our own choices.
But for Fern, that truth isn’t comforting, it’s exactly what he’s afraid off. Despite the fact that he’s “supposed” to be a great hero, he just isn’t very good at it. He fucks up all the time. His instinct is to use violence to subdue Sweet P, rather than comfort him emotionally, a plan that almost certainly would have unleashed the Lich through his sort-of son. But he couldn’t have even gotten that far because Sweet P effortlessly knocks him out so that he can go to the Lich’s well of power, alone, and fix things himself. Fern’s out here getting lapped by a kindergartener.
The healthy thing here would be to internalize what Finn’s always told him. Fern doesn’t have to be Finn, he can be himself, whoever that happens to be. But, unfortunately, “have you tried not hating yourself” has limited effectiveness as a mental health intervention, and Fern’s in too dark a place for a clean resolution. He’s catastrophizing, falling into fatalist black-and-white thinking. If he can’t be the real Finn’s equal, he’ll simply have to become the only Finn.
It’s hard not to feel for Fern. It’s massively destabilizing to define yourself by a skill you can no longer perform. He’s the gifted kid who no longer has things come easy and doesn’t know how to exist. It’s easy to say he should simply define himself by something else when you have something else. Fern only has this, and now he doesn’t. These circumstances often lead to self-harm, but in Fern’s case he has a convenient metaphor to externalize those impulses onto. I’m sure it’ll go great! Join us next week for Three Buckets
Stray Observations
- God I love Sweet P just tumbling down the well, completely stiff. Iconic entrance
- The Lich continues his legacy of delivering the most badass monologue you’ve ever heard immediately before getting owned, this time by his own 6-year-old. Still, credit where it’s due: “I am the ceaseless wheel. The last scholar of GOLB. I am your doom!” goes hard.
- I promise I signed up for these episodes because I remembered liking them, not because they’re both just my therapy notes. It’s not my fault we got depersonalization and self-loathing themes back-to-back. (The grass curse/Lich in my head: “okay but what if it were your fault???”)