Loki and Rumpelstiltskin Roast "Godspousing" on WitchTok: When Mortals Marry the Divine
Oh, mortals, you never cease to amaze. Just when I thought I'd seen the last of your strange antics, along comes WitchTok with its latest trend: godspousing. That's right, these bold souls are claiming they're marrying gods, striking up divine love affairs like it's the latest swipe-right fad. And who better to weigh in than me, Loki, the Trickster God, and my old pal Rumpelstiltskin, the master of deals and chaos? Oh, and let’s not forget Alice—because her opinion is always as twisted as her tea parties.
So, what’s the deal with godspousing? Mortals are apparently out here courting the gods, writing love letters, holding ceremonies, and claiming to be the celestial husband or wife of the divine. I mean, it's one thing to dabble in the mystical, but to say you’re married to a god? Well, that's a whole new level of delusion.
Rumpelstiltskin, my old mischief-making friend, is already cackling. "Oh, Loki, can you imagine the chaos? These mortals think they can wed gods and not pay a price? Hah! I could spin gold from their delusions and still have enough left over to make a throne."
Now, let’s pull in Alice, who’s always got a peculiar perspective. She’s already leaning over her teacup, smirking. “Godspousing? Sounds like they’ve truly tumbled down the rabbit hole. I wonder, do they invite the gods to their mad tea parties? Do they serve celestial cakes that make you grow or shrink?” Her laughter echoes as she tilts her head, “And what of the vows? 'Till death do us part?' Good luck with that—gods don’t die, darling.”
"Oh, Alice, you’re onto something. These mortals are out here pledging eternal love to entities who’ve been around since before they even knew how to make fire. And let’s face it, gods are not exactly known for their monogamy or fidelity—just ask Zeus."
Rumpelstiltskin's grin widens, “And let’s not forget the fine print! What do these mortals offer in return? Their souls? Their sanity? Or maybe just their TikTok followers?”
Loki steps in again, "My turn to stir the pot again". “Mortals, you want to marry gods? Fine. But be ready for the whole package: the divine tantrums, the centuries of silence, the occasional world-ending temper tantrum. And you think in-laws are bad? Try immortal pantheons.” Loki chuckled. “Let me tell you, from experience, that’s a drama no mortal is prepared for.”
Alice sips her tea, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Perhaps they fancy themselves the next Hera or Aphrodite. But darling, those goddesses don’t share their thrones. And if you think Olympian drama is messy, wait till you add a mortal to the mix.”
Rumpelstiltskin nods, his voice full of mock sympathy. “Ah, poor mortals, so eager to feel special, to be chosen by the divine. But the gods have always had their fun with mortals—often at their expense. How long until these godspouses realize they’re the punchline of a cosmic joke?”
And there it is—the punchline. Godspousing is just another twist in the long history of mortals trying to elevate themselves to divine status, only to find out they’re in way over their heads.
Alice clinks her teacup with a smile. “Let them play their games. The gods love a good laugh, and mortals never disappoint in providing the entertainment.”
So there you have it, from me, Rumpelstiltskin, and Alice: mortals, enjoy your godspousing while it lasts. But don’t come crying to us when the gods start calling in those vows. After all, in the grand scheme of things, you’re just the latest chapter in an eternal comedy. Enjoy the show—we sure are.
