"Excuse me? I am a literal goddess! You should be grateful I’m even in your presence. My very existence blesses this place."
Granny Plops coughed a cloud of cabbage smoke. "Uh-huh. Then why do you hide behind that piss boy like he’s your emotional support?"
Majestria opened her mouth. Closed it. Then glared at Finn.
’She does have a good point,’ Finn thought. ’Why does she hide behind me when I’m shorter than her? How does that even work?’
Granny leaned forward, all wrinkled menace. "Come on, goddess. Tell me something real. Something you never told anyone. Something that itches under your skin."
Majestria clenched her jaw. She stood in pure silence for a long, heavy moment... and then crossed her arms.
"Absolutely not," she snapped. "I am a goddess. This is beneath me. I shouldn’t have to—"
Clemothy’s wings shot open. Its eyes glowed like demonic laser sights.
The chicken launched.
"OKAY, OKAY!!" Majestria screamed, ducking as Clemothy dive-bombed her soul.
The elf and Finn just stood there, watching a divine being panic like she got caught watching soap operas.
"Gooood," Granny wheezed like a dying radiator. "Now confess."
Majestria barked out, cheeks red, "Fine! But if any of you repeat this, I’ll vaporize your genitals and salt what’s left!"
Everyone leaned in. Even the water seemed to stop moving.
"When I was in heaven... I used to write fanfics. About myself."
Finn blinked. "You’re kidding."
"Shut up!" she hissed. "It was tasteful! I wrote stories where I saved the other gods, and they fell in love with me. They’d cry, confess their eternal devotion, and kiss my sparkly wings."
You gave yourself sparkly wings?" the elf choked.
"I gave myself everything," she growled. "Cool one-liners. Divine sass. I even made my own fandom page under the name ’GoddessOfHearts420.’"
"You wrote fanfics. Of yourself," Finn repeated, still trying to process.
"They were WELL-WRITTEN, damn it!"
The elf clutched her stomach, ready to implode.
Granny Plops raised a brow. "Not embarrassing. You were proud of it."
Majestria spun toward her. "W-What?! That was deeply personal!"
Majestria flinched like she’d been smacked with divine reality. "...Fine. I get jealous. When people don’t give me the attention I deserve. I pretend I don’t care but—I notice."
"I—I once played with Finn in his sleep to make it look like he was worshipping me!" she blurted.
’Wait, what the actual—?’ Finn’s brain short-circuited. ’That’s messed up. Also... kinda hot?’
Majestria looked like she was dying inside. "I TRIED TO CALL TO THE HEAVENS TO COME BACK... AND NO ONE ANSWERED! THEY TOLD ME TO BUZZ OFF!"
She covered her face, absolutely shattered.
Granny Plops smiled like a ghost that just got closure. "Now that’s what I needed."
Majestria walked away without a word, eyes on the ground, her entire soul red with shame.
Finn stared after her, unsure what to feel. Pity? Sympathy?
’Oh gods, I’m the problem.’
"Now," Granny Plops rasped, her milky eye pulsing in its jar, "you must each perform an interpretive dance... from the soul."
’What the hell even is that?’
Finn blinked. "So we just... dance?"
The granny nodded gravely. "You must dance from within your deepest desire. Let your truth move your limbs. Let your trauma do the tango."
Finn muttered under his breath, "How the hell do you even do that?"
Without a word, the elf stepped forward.
She locked eyes with Finn. "Watch. And understand."
She began with a sway—slow, seductive, hips moving like she was born in a strip club and baptized in sin. Her fingers trailed up her sides like vines, her eyes locked on Finn’s, her body a living thirst trap. She winked, slid into a split, licked her thumb.
She ran her hands along her thighs, but then—
—her arms froze behind her back.
Her expression shifted.
She began reaching forward, again and again, desperate hands clawing for something—someone—that kept disappearing. Every reach ended in a stumble. Her confidence cracked. Her smile died.
Then her hips began thrusting. Fast. Violently.
But her face looked terrified.
Her movements glitched—like a horny puppet with its strings cut, desperately trying to find rhythm but collapsing into chaos.
Finn took a cautious step back.
’What the hell am I watching...?’
She twirled once—then slowly curled into a fetal position, still dry-humping the air. All around her, the mist wept like mourning fog.
She screamed into the void,
"I’M NOT LONELY—I’M JUST SELECTIVE, OKAY?!"
Finn stood there, utterly traumatized.
Majestria was still sulking, arms crossed and eyes fixed on the ground like she was pretending none of this existed.
Granny Plops clapped once, solemnly. "Mmm. Delicious display. That was a dance marinated in loneliness and deep denial. You pass."
Then all heads turned.
Finn gulped. ’Fuck me sideways.’
He stepped forward, past the elf who was still fetal and air-humping her trauma. His hands were trembling. His pride? Already gone.
He cracked his knuckles. Bounced his knees. Whispered to himself like a man entering spiritual warfare:
"Okay. Don’t freak out. Just move your body. You got this. Be cool. Be awesome. I’ve never danced in my life, but how hard can this be?"
"WHY DID I DO THAT?!" his brain screamed.
Panic surged. He tried to recover.
His limbs flailed like a possessed body.
Then, without warning, his hands snapped into the trip signal.
His own spell activated.
Face down. Full-body wipeout.
He was now tripping in mid-air, repeatedly face-planting like a cursed Looney Tune.
Then—his limbs began acting out repressed memories. One arm slapped away a handshake. Another dodged a hug. His whole body jolted like it was allergic to affection.
He began to cry. "Please... just make it stop..."
Then, as if possessed by despair and Red Bull, he broke into aggressive breakdancing. Spinning on his back.
Flailing like a malfunctioning blender.
"WOOO I’M FINE!" he shouted while twirling.
Then suddenly he collapsed, arms splayed out, face down.
"I’M A LOSER! I DON’T NEED ANYONE! I’M A LOSER!!"
And finally—choking back snotty tears:
"I DIDN’T ASK FOR ANY OF THIS! WHY DID ALL OF THAT HAPPEN TO ME?!"
He curled up in a ball, rocking slightly. Muffled sobs leaking from the dirt.
The elf watched, mouth agape in raw horror. Even she looked concerned.
Majestria turned away slightly, eyes widening.