#dionysian frenzy

[aromothmantic]

I don't think there are words to describe the frequency at which the cells in my body vibrate whenever I hear the Unsolved Mysteries theme music

[alephskoteinos]

One thing I think I must credit Plato for is the fact that he apparently had no truck with our modern division between "the Apollonian" as rationality and "the Dionysian" as esctasy or mania. He instead associated both Apollo and Dionysus with frenzy or mania. In Plato's Phaedrus, Socrates describes four kinds of divine madness. One of them comes from Apollo, and another comes from Dionysus. Apollo's divine madness was the mania of prophesy, while Dionysus' divine madness was related to religious mysteries, or at least more particularly his own mysteries.

That's one thing that's genuinely admirable, or rather relatable even, about Platonism: in Platonism, the gods are supposed to make you sort of mad, because madness, of a certain sort, means knowledge. Which means that divine inspiration and knowledge are linked with personal disinhibition.

[tylermileslockett]

"The Orphic Mystery Cult" Illustrated by me

Whereas Hellenic Polytheism was a public belief system guided by civic duty and open to the general populace, The Mystery Cults, were secret organizations offering a more personal experience to its selected members such as initiation rites, esoteric spiritual knowledge, and salvation in the afterlife. Let’s look at a few famous movements and their worshipped gods and goddesses.

The most famous Mystery cult was the Eleusinian Mysteries which was centered around the Demeter and Persephone myth. Initiates, known as Mystai entered a sacred hall called the Telestrion, where they experienced or were shown a revelation referred to as the Epopteia. As sharing the secrets of the initiation ceremonies was punishable by death, very little knowledge of what initiates saw or experienced has survived.

         The Dionysian Mysteries was a cult where initiates would drink wine, dance, and play music, ultimately reaching a frenzied trance state of ekstasis (ecstasy) by channeling a divine union with Dionysus, God of wine, fertility, festivities, and theater. This loss of inhibition into a wild, animalistic state gave followers an opportunity to liberate themselves from society’s social norms.

         Orphic cults were centered around the myths and teachings of Orpheus, the most famous music lyre player of Greek myth who journeyed into the underworld, seeking his lost love, Eurydice. The philosophical beliefs and practices of the cult consisted of; purification rituals to cleanse one’s tainted soul, metempsychosis (reincarnation) and the path to escape this cycle, ascetic practices, such as abstaining from certain foods and other worldly pleasures, and teachings of secret, esoteric knowledge in regards to the salvation of the soul.

Thanks for looking and reading! 🤘😁🏛❤️

Want to own my Illustrated Greek myth book jam packed with over 130 illustrations like this? Support my book kickstarter "Lockett Illustrated: Greek Gods and Heroes" coming in early 2024.

[failed-charisma-save]

my favorite dimension 20 moments are when you can SEE the player’s soul leave their bodies and exit the dome and this insane maenad dionysian frenzy descends PEAK television

[windsweptinred]

Ok Orpheus x Dionysus headcanon time.

"Orpheus is said to have been a prophet of Dionysos who established the Dionysian Mysteries and helped spread his worship."

We know Orpheus likes to declare, as loudly as possible, how much he loves someone. (Dio... Give Orpheus a watch sweetheart. He'd probably create an entire album about it).

If Orpheus openly began devoting his music to Dionysus, declaring the god his muse, pouring his love into 'every' lyric. Is this not spreading Dio's worship? His concerts would indirectly become a passionate frenzy of dance and song in homage. Every track played and tune hummed would be a hymn in Dionysus's honour. Would Orpheus’s fans (like every fan in existence) not follow their idols' example? And turn their attention to the young god in suit.

And you have to wonder, if love is as powerful as Prometheus says, could this love, generated by Orpheus's devotion not be a new way for Dionysus to turbo charge? In place of the Meander water? Divinity through prayer, adoration and love.

[vaguelypersonshapedholeinawall]

I want him carnally. I want to tear him open in a Dionysian frenzy during a bacchanal. I want to bite him like a feral dog and not let go.

[zerogate]

Music and wild dancing phenomena recur in all shapes and forms throughout history. In the history of European Christianity, music in service to spiritual dance and ceremony has been a constant, periodically erupting into irrepressible movements. In many European dance epidemics, participants vied with the old Greeks in wildness, for example in the Festival of Fools, in which people donned costumes of animals, often disguising themselves as the other gender, happily doing and saying things out of character, all of which was outrageous to Christian piety.

The “dancing” was not square or genteel but explosive, spastic, jerky, and hopping. There were dances meant to promote the fertility of crops, as well as of women, or to celebrate a saint or a holy day. The hungry, the sick, and the miserable danced for relief, for healing, for companionship. There were dances of the dead meant to help the dead but also to ward off the dangers that might issue from the insulted dead. J. G. Frazer, distinguished British folklorist and anthropologist, has documented the curious fact that early humanity lived in extreme fear of the dead, even dead folks who in life were friends and loved ones....

There is a strange side to music that is dark. You’ve probably heard of the Pied Piper of Hamelin. An odd little fellow comes strolling through town blowing tunes on his pipe and the children spontaneously break free and follow the Piper out of town and never come back. It’s a true story, and 147 children were never seen again. All kinds of historical documentation bears this out. All we know is that the piping had the power to lure the children into whatever made them disappear...

As for the Dionysian frenzy, E. Lewis Backman, a professor of pharmacology from the University of Upsala, has tracked dance epidemics in Western history.

An epidemic erupted in a region near the Rhine in 1374. That year was a time of unprecedented floods; the water of the Rhine was twenty-six feet higher than normal from the biggest snowfalls in hundreds of years. In the midst of this chaos arrived the choreomaniacs, victims of a mysterious disease called choreomania, dance mania, which became a big epidemic sweeping across Europe. According to one French historian, “the dancers were seized by some crazy madness, a frenzy hitherto unknown. They took off their clothes and went about naked; they put wreathes of flowers on their heads; they held each other hand in hand, and so they danced through the streets.”

Was this a disease or a Dionysian explosion of ecstatic consciousness—an unconscious rebellion against boredom, poverty, and oppression? However bizarre and frightening their behavior, very few died; in the end, they all recovered and were restored to their normal selves.

-- Michael Grosso, Yoga of Sound: the Life and Teachings of the Celestial Songman, Swami Nada Brahmananda

[olrastrology]

Dionysus: The Multifaceted God of Wine, Ecstasy, and Transformation

Dionysus, also known as Bacchus in Roman tradition, is one of the most complex and multifaceted deities of ancient Greek mythology. As the god of wine, revelry, and ecstasy, Dionysus occupies a unique place in the pantheon, embodying themes of transformation, liberation, and the duality of human experience. This essay explores the various aspects of Dionysus, his mythology, and his cultural significance.

Origins and Birth

Dionysus’s origins are both divine and somewhat mysterious. According to myth, he is the son of Zeus, the king of the gods, and Semele, a mortal woman. The story of his birth is one of transformation and intrigue. Hera, the jealous wife of Zeus, tricked Semele into demanding that Zeus reveal himself in his full divine splendor. The sight was too much for Semele, who perished in the blaze. Zeus saved the unborn Dionysus by sewing him into his thigh, from which the god was later born, making Dionysus a god with a unique connection to both the mortal and divine realms.

God of Wine and Festivity

Dionysus is most famously known as the god of wine, viticulture, and festivity. He represents not only the pleasure and intoxication associated with wine but also its transformative power. Wine, in the Dionysian context, is not merely a beverage but a conduit for experiencing the divine and transcending ordinary reality. It symbolizes both ecstasy and chaos, revealing the dual nature of Dionysus's influence.

Festivals dedicated to Dionysus, such as the Dionysia and the Bacchanalia, were central to Greek culture. These festivals involved theatrical performances, particularly tragedies and comedies, which were believed to be inspired by the god. The Dionysian festivals were not only a celebration of the harvest but also an opportunity to explore the boundaries of human experience and to engage in communal revelry.

The Cult and Mysteries of Dionysus

The worship of Dionysus was marked by ecstatic rituals and mystery cults. The Dionysian Mysteries, which were held in various forms across Greece, were initiatory rites that promised personal transformation and enlightenment. These mysteries often involved rites of purification, symbolic death and rebirth, and ecstatic dance, reflecting the god’s role in breaking down social norms and exploring the depths of human consciousness.

Participants in these rituals often wore masks and costumes, embodying the god’s ability to transcend ordinary identities and societal constraints. Dionysian worship emphasized the ecstatic experience of divine presence, achieved through music, dance, and the consumption of wine. This state of ecstasy was seen as a way of connecting with the divine and accessing hidden truths.

Symbolism and Attributes

Dionysus’s symbols include the grapevine, ivy, and the thyrsus, a staff entwined with ivy and topped with a pine cone. The grapevine and ivy represent his association with fertility and growth, while the thyrsus is a symbol of his power and authority. In artistic depictions, Dionysus is often shown in a state of revelry, accompanied by a retinue of satyrs and maenads, who embody the wild and untamed aspects of his nature.

Dionysus’s dual nature is central to his symbolism. On one hand, he represents joy, liberation, and creativity, often associated with the freeing effects of wine and the exhilaration of artistic expression. On the other hand, he also embodies chaos, madness, and the breakdown of order, reflecting the destructive potential of his divine influence.

Mythological Narratives

Dionysus’s myths often explore themes of transformation, conflict, and the struggle for acceptance. One notable myth is the story of his journey to establish his cult in the city of Thebes. King Pentheus, who refuses to acknowledge Dionysus’s divinity, is ultimately torn apart by his own mother, Agave, who has been driven into a frenzied state by the god. This myth illustrates the consequences of resisting or denying the transformative power of Dionysus and highlights the god’s capacity for both creation and destruction.

Another important myth is the story of Dionysus and the pirate ship. According to legend, Dionysus was once captured by a group of pirates who did not recognize him. As punishment, he transformed the ship into a sea of wine and turned the pirates into dolphins, demonstrating his power and the divine retribution against those who do not honor him.

Cultural and Philosophical Impact

Dionysus's influence extends beyond mythology and religion into art, philosophy, and literature. The concept of the Dionysian, as articulated by the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche in his work "The Birth of Tragedy," represents a fundamental aspect of human existence, characterized by a celebration of chaos, creativity, and the primal forces of nature. Nietzsche contrasts the Dionysian with the Apollonian, which embodies reason, order, and rationality, suggesting that a balance between these forces is essential for a full and meaningful life.

In literature and art, Dionysus has been a symbol of the power of transformation and the limits of human understanding. His presence in tragic dramas, such as those of Euripides, often serves to challenge societal norms and explore the nature of divine influence on human affairs.

Conclusion

Dionysus is a deity who embodies the complexities of human experience, from the ecstatic highs of celebration to the dark depths of chaos. As the god of wine, revelry, and transformation, he represents both the joy and the danger inherent in breaking free from societal constraints and exploring the full range of human emotions and experiences. Through his myths, rituals, and cultural impact, Dionysus continues to be a powerful symbol of the divine’s capacity to both create and destroy, to liberate and to confound. His legacy endures as a reminder of the profound and often paradoxical nature of existence itself.

[blackbacchus999]

As the Maenads whirled and leapt, they echoed the ancient grape foot pressers, whose laborious dance turned grapes into the wine that fueled their Dionysian frenzy!

[mask131]

The myth of Dionysos (5)

Follow-up of the loose translation/recap of the article I began covering here.

II) The Frenzied God

Voluptuousness and cruelty

In The Birth of Tragedy, Nietzsche associates those two words to define “Dionysism”. Indeed, they are the two faces of drunkenness, and thus the two aspects of the magic of the god. While he is able to create flows of milk, honey and wine for the prosperity of mankind, Dionysos can also cause disaster-and-misfortune-inducing metamorphosis. The daughters of Minyas, that refused to leave their husbands to follow Bacchus, are terrified when milk and wine starts pouring from the ceiling above them.

The women that follow Dionysos become Maenads or Bacchants: under the influence of the “mania” (the divine possession) they become invulnerable, with an enormous strength, and they are plunged in a murderous delirium that forces them to rip into pieces the young beasts they just breastfed – sometimes they even kill their own children. The Bacchic “orgia” (rite, ritual) happens in three steps. First the oribasia, the disheveled race of the women through the mountain ; then the disparagmos, the sacrifice by ripping apart. This is the part of the ritual that is illustrated by Euripides’ Bacchants (405 BCE), with the murder of Pentheus by his mother Agave. “Foaming at the mouth, with rolling eyes, having lost her mind, possessed by Bacchus […] she took with both hands his left arm and, pushing with her foot against the flank of the unfortunate one, she disarticulated and ripped away the shoulder, not just with her sole strength, but with the power the god offered her.” The third time of the ritual is the omophagia, the devouring of the raw, barely dead, meat that was just lacerated.

The Dionysian cult introduces a ritual cruelty. In Arcadia, women are flagellated. In Boeotia, women are chased by the priest of Dionysos, who is armed with a sword ; and as a substitute to a human victim, a young veal wearing cothurnus and symbolizing a child is killed for the god. Through the “mania”, Dionysos imposes upon his followers the cruelty of which he was a victim: he was chased by Lycurgus, he was ripped apart and devoured by the Titans. From this arises the voluptuousness that is tied to the cruelty of the Bacchants, as they can, by satisfying their darkest instincts, life again the suffering of the god that possesses them.

Between life and death: contradictions

The ambiguity of the Dionysian intoxication, bringing joy and fury, life and death, is reflected in the animals that follow the god. On one side, animals of fecundity, such as the goat, the donkey, the bull. On the other side, ferocious and murderous beasts, such as the lion, the lynx or the panther. This contradiction is a symbol of what Nietzsche calls the “deadly-silent clatter”, the Dithyrambes of Dionysos. This god, nicknamed Bromios (the roaring one) is followed by a parade of loud music made by tambourines, flutes and cymbals, loud music that makes the Maenads dance to the point of convulsions. But, the god can also suddenly impose a strong silence, where even the Maenads stay immobile and frozen, as if petrified.

Even the origins of the god are placed in this contradiction, since his birth mixes life and death. Which is probably why the dead have such an important place in both his cult and myth. Horace tells of how Dionysos went into the Underworld to fetch back his mother. In Aristophane’s parody The Frogs (405 BCE), he goes in the realm of Hades to bring back Euripides. The third day of the Anthesteria, is dedicated to the dead, who are supposed to come back to haunt the living. The affinities of Dionysos with dead will even allow Heraclite to identify Dionysos to Hades, saying they both were the “Plouton”, the “giver of riches”. The various versions of Dionysos’ romance with Ariadne also prove this oscillation between life and death: sometimes Dionysos is the one that consoles and comforts Ariadne after Theseus abandonment, other times (such as in Homer’s Odyssey) he is rather a jealous lover who sends death to Ariadne through Artemis. The many contradictions of the Dionysism, and especially its unstoppable cruelty, made it very difficult to locate it within a political system, and it explains as such its subversive role in Greek society.

Disturbing the social and political order

If Dionysos is presented as a foreign god, it is because such an exoticism translates the strangeness of a god with no fixed place, of a cult that disdains temples to rather have a mobile and open worship. The “thiasis”, the very basis of the Dionysian religion, is found outside of all the social norms, since this group gathers without recognizing any distinction between men and women, poor and rich, citizens and slaves. On another hand, Dionysos is composed of a feminine strength and a subversive power that makes the effeminate god a champion of the “dark” or “nocturnal side”, as a counterpart to the diurnal, ordered and masculine power of Apollo. This god, that drags women away from their loom to hunt them down the mountains, can only break down the familial order – and thus, by extension, weaken the political order. The paroxysm of this disturbance is reached within The Bacchants, where the social, then political, dislocation of Thebes is crowned by the destruction of the palace, the very symbol of the royal power.

But even beyond all this, it is the very human values that are disturbed by Dionysos’ very existence: he is a god born from a mortal woman, a deity that stays close to humans and that allows them to be assimilated to him. Unlike the cult of all the other Greek gods, the Dionysian religion destroys the frontier between humanity and divinity.

As such, the cult of Dionysos had a cathartic role in Ancient Greece: it set mankind free (at least for a time) from his civic past and duties, as well as from his cruel desires and instincts. Imported in Rome, the “orgia” degenerated into a licentious feast and will soon be forbidden. Rome will rather honor Bacchus through art, by highlighting his role as a god of wine, and as the joyful musician of the bacchanals, which will be a loved subject of the European classical painting. It is this “weakened” or “watered-down” version of Dionysism that will survive in European culture until the end of the 19th century, when the philosophers and the poets will rediscover the true roots of the god.

[jabberwockprince]

this entire post about the hanahaki disease and eve made me black out for one hour to draw this

EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU TO @smittenroses AND THEIR LOVELY ADDITIONS FOR FUELING THE BRAINROT

some design notes and ideas i had while drawing this in a feverish, dionysian frenzy, i didnt even stop to think i just HAD TO GET THIS OUT OF MY SYSTEM <33

read the linked post for further context bc im working on an EMPTY STOMACH AND A BRAIN FULL OF EVE

i wanted her to be our beloved eve, but a little to the left. yknow. eve but something is off her usual characteristic bright colors ( the blues and yellows and greens she wears ) muted down to a dangerous degree. missing various iconic details like her earrings or hand-holding necklace, etc

something something, she's losing her sense of self while trying to figure out more about this new, hidden side she's just discovered. the side that's causing all the flowers to clog up her throat and all

also also. a subtle feeling of restraint in the way her hair is now a braid that wraps around her throat, also held together by black and white beads. and the hands, a very prominent theme in her art, now holding her chest - but in a "keeping her body together" kinda way, not in a sexy kind of way sadly

OH FUCK. I FORGOT TO ADD IT BUT HER HENNA DESIGNS BEING FLORAL PATTERN.....

read rosie's latest addition to the linked post RIGHT FUCKING NOW because the daffodils and the themes of eve wanting to embody art but not being ready for people to inspect the piece of art she's made out of herself is. is so. YEAH.

also i imagine her jacket is replaced by this daffodil inspired coat that is the MOST eye catching thing. as a way to represent how this obsession with finding out what feelings shes repressing is taking over her entire sense of self

i wanted to add more eye motifs, since eve's art is a lot about her complex relationship with being perceived and also using that same fear as a weapon herself when feeling cornered (yknow. that one moment with zuke where she starts insulting him and saying he's "one of them". yknow. YOU KNOW) but maybe later in a proper design

bUT!!!! you know how in her cover art, the eyes are also different palettes? but once you beat her, they're HER actual eyes crying and closing. i wanted that but. in a much more aggressive way, like she's actively searching for the parts within herself she cannot understand

god i love her i love her so much guys shes so

[midnightsunnyday]

With Good Intentions (Chapter Two) ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

(Chapter One) Masterlist A03

➥pairings: MC & Everyone, MC/Everyone ➥content warnings: Not Beta Read. We Cook Our Stories Like Solomon. Fighting. Family Drama. Implied/Referenced Character Death. Alcohol. Curse Language. Reader-Insert. Gender-Neutral Pronouns. Lesson 016 Spoilers. Post-Lesson 016. ➥summary: after the events of Chapter 16, the brothers and Diavolo are forced to deal with the inevitable fallback of their actions towards MC, all while attempting to help them through their growing existential breakdown. Or... what would happen if the MC didn't "serve as a bridge" for the brothers after lesson 16? How would their relationships change? And how would the brothers navigate their emotions without the MC's help? ➥a/n: chapter two took...an exceptionally long time. 2023 was not a good year and it got me feeling down about my writing, but either way, I hope you all enjoy it. Also, this chapter is a long one (4,351 words) and from Lucifer's POV. As always, take care.

I remember some of you stating you'd like to be added to a tag list: @darkflowerav @zarakem @shabootldoo. Let me know if you'd like to removed or added.

The day of Diavolo's birth was an occasion that, when first learned, filled Lucifer with dreary contempt, the hours leading up to it hazed in an overwhelming show of Dionysian blunder that would make the Greek god himself blush from embarrassment. 

Every year, Lucifer worked himself past exhaustion, ensuring that every drape, every hors-d'œuvre, hell, every tile of the grand ballroom floor sparkled the way it should. And his brothers, who labored from wall to wall, hated him for it, relegating Lucifer as nothing more than Diavolo’s “perfect little lap dog.” But none of it mattered. Their wavering respect was one thing, hopefully mended with time, yet his reputation as the prince’s right hand was another; such bonds he couldn’t risk testing. 

Over time, Lucifer learned to find pleasure in routine, satisfied with how everything formed together through the sway of his hands, entirely in his element. And Diavolo, in trusting him to do so, spared no effort in praising him and his brothers after, drowning them in food, Demonus, and parting with many of his gifts.

Naturally, Lucifer questioned him. Nothing is given freely, the past carved into his very bones. But Diavolo had a way of breaching past suspicions, humbling Lucifer with a boastful laugh.

“In all my years of knowing you, not once have I ever seen you as just my right hand.” Diavolo’s gaze was thoughtful, bearing down from the parapet walk of the castle. Below them was the bailey, a frenzied glow of lights and fevered guests, their voices leveling into the night. His face brightened. “This party is more than just the celebration of my birth, but all the things that came together and made it worth celebrating.”

“Meaning?” Lucifer's voice was as layered as the notes of his Demonus; dry, probing, and hesitant. He’d not known the prince to be cruel, yet kindness is often obfuscated through the guise of good deeds.

Diavolo turned to him and laughed. “It means you’re like family to me, Lucifer. Why wouldn't I want you all to share in this moment?"

 Lucifer scoffed. Diavolo hadn’t much in the way of family, doubted if he even knew what the word meant, though he had a knack for flattery, he’d give him that. 

“Moreover, I see you and your brothers being here as an opportunity for greater things.” Diavolo fell silent, his eyes shut in contemplation. Lucifer stood, wondering if there was a point to all this. It was cold, his drink was nearing empty, and his brothers were doing hell knows what with the other guests. 

Finally: “Now, bear with me here,” Diavolo spoke, “for it’s a bit of a work in progress, but I’ve had some ideas regarding an exchange program, one where both humans and angels could attend.”

“An exchange program?” Lucifer could've snorted at the statement. It’s not as if he's here to enjoy the scenery.

“Correct,” Diavolo continued. "My dream is to create a world where all beings can coexist. I see no reason why we all must be separate and fearful of one another. And with the foundations of RAD in place along with the newly formed student council, I find such goals achievable, wouldn’t you agree?”

“My agreement isn’t necessary,” Lucifer said flatly. “Whatever you decide, I’ll procure it with all my ability.”

“I see.” Diavolo frowned. “I believe I may've "ruined the vibe," as they say. Another time, then.” 

The silence between them dragged on. It was no longer awkward; just downright uncomfortable. Diavolo shifted his legs, while Lucifer readied to excuse himself. He shouldn’t leave his brothers alone for too long, and by brothers, he meant Mammon.

“Understandably, you continue to question your place here,” Diavolo’s voice was small, barely audible above the chaos, “but one day I hope you come to see my realm as more than a punishment, but as your home.”

Lucifer sharpened his eyes. If Diavolo were lying, he could use nothing—no delaying tactics, no sweat on the brow, no hesitancies—against him. The prince armed himself with child-like honesty, and Lucifer wasn’t sure if he should be annoyed or relieved. 

“Family, you say?” Lucifer stared into his drink, wishing all his problems could be willed away amongst the vivid red. The guests hadn’t called him and his brothers demons but fallen, their demonic nature yet to be proved. It would be a while before he felt comfortable here, let alone taken seriously enough to be called a lord, but…

His face settled and a wry smile lined his lips. “Are you sure you’d rather not adopt a pack of rabid circus animals?”  

He supposed a little effort wouldn’t harm anything.

Diavolo’s eyes widened and suddenly Lucifer regretted everything. 

“Technically, the animals would be a tamer choice,” Diavolo said with a grin. “Less fighting during my meetings, no unauthorized tours of the castle, my possessions’ would remain untouched, and hardly any challenges toward my decisions.” His eyes glimmered at what Lucifer assumed was his growing embarrassment. “Though I find the antics of your brothers quite enthralling, your company included, of course.” 

Lucifer looked out and the city shined back. “Enthralling would be an understatement.” 

And while he hated to admit it, the Demonus was growing on him. 

And so came the restless nights, the unyielding stacks of potential applicants both regular and eldritch. Ideologies swept over chess games, the clamor for a better world, with RAD as the foundation to create it. It gave Lucifer something akin to hope, like the nights when his brothers could stand to be in one room without fighting. Diavolo began to question more within him than pledged devotion. Trust and friendship were hardly given freely, and rarely was one allowed both. Be it above Lucifer to question him on either. However…

“Did you plan for Belphegor to kill me?” 

Recent revelations were…worrisome. 

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

[Lucifer]: Good morning. Did you rest well? Are you awake? 

[Lucifer]: I’ll take the read receipt as a “yes.” 

The grandfather clock that struck away from the corner of his view only confirmed what his body voiced with the ache of his joints. It was morning and Lucifer—having realized the number of tasks that needed to be done for today—felt the weight of ten thousand restless nights bearing down upon him. 

As much as he lectured his brothers about proper sleeping habits, Lucifer rarely, if ever, did the same, spending the past 24 hours mending back the thousand-year pieces of cultivated nerve the only way he knew how: with work.

Over time he learned that the voices inside one’s head tend to scurry when faced with 895 pages of Devildom zoning laws and temporary land use regulation. By then he missed breakfast, lunch, and dinner, stuck on the same page for what felt like hours, his eyes dry and stinging. Twice he caught himself from falling headfirst into his desk. It was all a horribly planned distraction, yet still, he refused sleep, finding his dreams too unkind. 

In them, he stood outside himself, the sole audience of a scene gone wrong. It was not unlike the underground tomb, though this time he cornered you in the library, his brothers and Diavolo nowhere in sight. A bad sign. 

“I met Belphegor,” you sputtered. “And I think…I think you both should speak with one another.” 

“…What did you say?” His counterpart choked on his words, face shattered with confusion. “Wait, don’t tell me…that you actually met with him? That you went to that room…and you MET Belphegor…?! 

It was then Lucifer understood; he meant to kill you in that room. 

“Please,” your steps were slow and retracted as if placating a beast to avoid its bite. “Lucifer, I just wanted—“

"Do you REALLY find it so amusing to poke your nose into our business at every opportunity?" His aura quaked around him, surging with a power threatening to tear its target limb from limb. "Do you really enjoy stirring up trouble that much? YOU…a mere HUMAN? YOU DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT." 

Lucifer ruffled his hair with his hand, smoothing it back with quickened frustration. Barbatos erased the prior timeline, that much was certain, yet why did everything feel so much worse? It was clear he hadn’t harmed you then, so what happened afterward? More than anything, he wanted to ask--

The light of his D.D.D. blinked, and a jolt of energy hit Lucifer as he swiped at the screen to view the notification. 

[Barbatos]: Good morning. The Young Master's birthday will soon be upon us. 

Lucifer stared at the screen as if the words written were foreign. Not exactly who he expected. Furthermore, he was aware of Diavolo's approaching birthday just as he'd been inclined to know it for the past 5,000 or so years. 

[Lucifer]: Yes, good morning. Are there any more qualms concerning the plots for the commoner's booths? 

[Barbatos]: None at all. All reservations were resolved. Not likely due to your persuasive speech. 

[Lucifer]: Apparently, fear is an excellent motivator for progress. 

[Barbatos]: I’ll try to keep that in mind. 

To learn that a being with as much power as Barbatos was content with being a mere servant unnerved Lucifer. How Diavolo managed to entice him to his side was even more perplexing. He thought back to the fall. Maybe Barbatos had been just as desperate. 

[Barbatos]: Also, please excuse me for the sudden shift in tone, but I must inform you of a more serious matter. 

[Barbatos]: The Young Master shows concern for the well-being of all his exchange students. While the past night's events were unfortunate, they should hold no bearing on previously established expectations. 

[Barbatos]: Which is why I'm sure you understand that all parties occupying the House of Lamentation are expected to attend. I assume you've made your brothers and guest aware of that factoid. 

Shit. So that's what he was leading into. Truth was he hadn't. Or rather, he couldn't. His brothers he could speak with, threaten, yet the latter not so much. Not since you bound yourself to your room. Lucifer lost count of the number of times he reached for his D.D.D. only to see his messages read, yet unanswered. 

[Lucifer]: I'll have it handled. 

[Barbatos]: While that doesn't sound like positive confirmation, I have faith in your capabilities.

[Barbatos]: Very well. I must go attend to my duties. Signing off, as they say. 

[Lucifer]: As do I. Speak to you soon. 

Lucifer rose from his chair, reaching an emotional plateau where the only options were either “get coffee” or “start fire, blame Mammon.” He chose the former, saving the latter for another day. He supposed even he had limits. Not many, but few.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

They say it’s best to tackle the hardest task first. Though maybe he should’ve had his coffee beforehand.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

No response. 

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

“I know you’re capable of hearing me.” 

“Go away.”

Lucifer inhaled. Sharply. Then released. A part of him wanted nothing more than to view the past night’s outburst as misplaced hysterics, side effects of a post-traumatic mind brought back from the brink. But a larger part of him knew that Diavolo’s goals were absolute, unmovable as his will. If the Devildom ended tomorrow, then he simply rebuild another atop the wreckage. And if a single human life was the key to seeing his goals become reality, then the prince would press forward, by any means necessary. 

“I understand that you’re in pain, you have every right to be, yet please, this is important.” 

Still, the answer was silence. 

Demon King help me. Lucifer had ways of dealing with his brothers, a swift kick, a few threatening words, and the tug of a collar, mostly. But to stare at a door that once opened at merely his voice left him with a feeling he didn’t quite like, one that seemed more fitting of someone in a position less than him.

“You may remain trapped in your space, yet understand that at some point I will need to enter.” His voice grew softer, “Please, do not give me that choice.”  

He hadn't meant for it to sound like a threat, yet intentions never mattered, only the consequences of them. It took a moment before Lucifer heard movement beyond the door, along with the hand that hesitantly, turned the knob. 

You appeared draped in gloom, face sunken in a permanent frown. No part of you, from your hair to your clothes, looked ready to face the day ahead. It was clear you had no plans of leaving your room today. He was sure you were trying to kill him with your eyes. 

“Let’s get this over with.” You turned, trekking back into the darkness. Bitter expression aside, for the moment, Lucifer would receive it as the confirmation it was and entered, shutting the door behind him. 

“Please excuse my brashness,” Lucifer said as he looked around. If he had any discrepancies over the state of your room (and he had) he dared not state them, nor did his face show it, gracefully stepping over the minefield of personal items and trash that scattered the floor. “But you wouldn’t respond to any of my texts.”  

You plopped down onto your bed, tossing a hand in the direction of the space nearest you, another bitter confirmation. He accepted.  

“I thought you’d take the hint and leave me be,” you said. 

“I see that you still have your characteristic boldness left in you.” Lucifer smiled. “I’m glad.” 

Your lips quivered, clenching them together once you noticed him staring. He waited to hear your voice. It didn’t matter the tone. Anything was better, he thought, than this horrible stillness you both struggled through. 

Granted, he’ll admit to there being one or two… minor miscalculations on his part with you, ones in which he simply overestimated the severity of a situation. Situations in which he may or may not have attempted, according to present parties, “various acts of treason, fratricide, homicide, (and if yappy angel Chihuahuas count) animal abuse.” He hadn’t cared to fully digest his actions then, waving them away as minor setbacks. Maybe the next exchange students would be less intrusive, and his brother, while healing from his wounds, less naïve. 

Yet while demons simply shrugged at death, humans were not inclined to take acts of attempted murder lightly. So he apologized—more or less—wiping his hands of it. From then on, a tiny part of him hoped you understood, that this would be the last of your meddling in his family’s affairs. And perhaps, with time, he could learn to see in you what his brothers had, and maybe you, with him. It wasn’t the most unpleasant of outcomes. 

“What is it you want?” You finally snapped. 

Though that time was not now. 

Lucifer folded his arms. “I was concerned, is all.” 

“You’re lying.” 

“Has your time alone given you the ability to read minds?”  

“No, just the ability to read you.” You gesture toward his arms. He tightens them further. 

“Then I suppose you can guess what I came here to say, seeing as you’ve read my messages.” 

You sunk your head, snorting. “It’s about that fucking birthday party, isn’t it?” He could see it in your face, the part of you that hoped there was at least some form of rebuttal left against Diavolo’s word. “Lucifer?” You pleaded. 

“Barbatos and I spoke this morning." He felt himself falter in your gaze. "All are required to attend.”

Disgust, the last to look at him in such a way being his very brother. In those moments, he was sure that neither of you saw a man nor a demon, but the scum rotting at the bottom of the Earth.

“You know, my Lucifer was brave enough to actually confront Diavolo,” you said smirking, though there was no humor in it. “And it was in that moment I thought maybe I finally did something right, but…” 

You fell away from him, flopping heavily into the mess of sheets and pillows. “But it doesn’t matter now. You aren’t him. I don’t think you can be.” 

Something painful gripped Lucifer’s throat. Confronted? Had the events of your timeline become that dire? “You continue to implicate Diavolo in your plight, yet refuse to speak further as to why.” 

“Because it doesn’t matter anymore,” you cried. “Everything I did, what I went through is gone. And even if I told you everything, what would you do? Would you protect me? Demand I be sent home? Deem the program a failure?” You laughed, choking back a sob. “Like you’d ever admit to being wrong.”

“I can’t help you unless you speak to me.” He thought back to his rage-filled dreams. Your shaken form. He placed a hand upon your leg. “In the timeline before, tell me, what did I do?” 

You yanked back your leg, shrugging. “The same thing you always do. What you all do. What else is new?” You then buried yourself further into your sheets. “So, can you go now, please?”

He stopped himself from saying more. He'd no right to his indignation. For once he would listen and rose to leave, resting his eyes over you one last time before heading toward your bedroom door, closing it behind him. 

He was right about having his coffee first. 

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

“They still haven’t come out of their room yet, huh?” Leviathan asked, entering from the hall. 

Be it against Lucifer to reprimand anyone for pointing out the obvious. “No, Leviathan, they haven’t come out of their room.” 

Like most mornings, Lucifer and his brothers gathered in the dining room. Despite the seemingly never-ending dysfunction of their lives, it was the only thing that remained consistent about them. 

Leviathan took his seat, only sparing Lucifer a half-glance from his phone. “No offense, but you kinda look...worse than usual.”  

Asmodeus frowned. “And just look at those eye bags. Honestly, Lucifer, as much as you hound us for our sleeping habits you rarely follow your own.” 

“Consequences of a late schedule. Now eat.” Lucifer sipped his coffee, the only thing at the table that was made by him. Satan had cooked today, so the chances of everyone developing food poisoning decreased. However, Satan had cooked today, so the chances of Lucifer specifically developing food poisoning increased. 

“Belphie hasn’t woken up, either,” Beelzebub noted, meekly gazing up from his plate. When no one answered, he ripped into his pancakes with painful dejection. 

“So are ya letting them stay home from RAD?” Mammon picked at his food, uninterested. 

“Belphegor has missed enough days as it is, so no,” Lucifer said. 

“Yeah, but who’s fault was that?” Surprisingly, such biting commentary hadn’t come from the usual twin. 

Lucifer raised his brow. “Pardon?” 

“Forget it,” Beelzebub mumbled. 

“As for the other, well," Lucifer rubbed his temples, "I’ve allotted a sick day.” 

“A sick day, huh? You know, it’s your fault for lettin’ em mouth off like that,” said Mammon, who had an obnoxious habit of eating while he talked. “That could’ve ended bad, real bad.” 

“Though I hate to admit it, I agree with Mammon.” Satan turned a page of his book. The Human Psyche and You, it read. “We all failed to assist them that night. Moreover, there’s clearly some bias in your disciplinary measures. Had any one of us spoken to Lord Diavolo that way, surely we’d be hanging from more than just our waists.” 

“Or locked in an attic,” Beelzebub spoke barely above a whisper, but Lucifer heard it all the same.

Lucifer glowered, his eyes gilded with magic. “Passive-aggressive remarks will get you more than just my attention, Beel. Speak fully on what it is you need to say.” 

Beelzebub slumped into his chair and turned away from the table. Belphegor’s burdens were not his own, yet he carried them all the same. “I…don’t want to argue with you, Lucifer.” 

“Then finish your food, in silence.”  

“I still say we should bust em’ out,” said Mammon, failing to grasp the point of silence. “What’s the point of them being trapped in their room ignoring everyone? Isn’t it better to, you know, talk about it?”

“Ok, sure. Let’s go with your plan,” said Leviathan, exasperated. “Let’s go kick down their door and force them out! That’ll really make them feel better.” 

“Furthermore, humans don’t just get over being killed, especially by those they trusted once,” said Satan. “Such matters are,” he rolled his shoulders, “a bit more complicated than most.” 

“Even so,” Lucifer stepped in, “Diavolo’s birthday is fast approaching. Regardless of anyone's feelings, it’s mandatory that we all attend.”

Quiet. Thick enough to hear a feather drop.

 “Are you…really going to make them go to that?” Mammon asked. 

“I am. Is that a problem?” It wasn't a question.

Mammon spat. “You seriously askin’ that after what happened?” 

“What happened lies in Belphegor’s hands and no one else. May I remind you all that Diavolo’s goal is to unite the three realms. He would do nothing to jeopardize such.”

“Glad to see you so trusting of your partner,” Satan said, twirling his fork. “I’m sure Lord Diavolo is nothing but upfront and would never hide anything from you.” 

“Enough. Finish your breakfast.” Lucifer wasn’t sure how many times he’d have to repeat himself this morning. 

Satan’s smile was tight. “You first.” 

“He’s kind of right, though,” Leviathan trugged into the conversation. “Belphie…ruined everything.” 

“Don’t say that,” Beelzebub’s voice leapt up. “I know he did something bad but…he’s still our brother.” 

“Yeah, and look how well that turned out.” 

“Levi!”

“Let me pose a question then.” Satan closed his book, smiling at Lucifer with cheeky defiance. “Why would Lord Diavolo, despite having a servant that can see multiple timelines and their events, send a mere human to solve a problem that could be easily distinguished with some simple deductive reasoning skills?”

“Satan,” Lucifer growled. “Enough.” 

“What? I’m only stating what’s obvious. This entire situation makes no sense.” 

“So you do think it’s true!” Asmodeus spoke in a jolt of validation. “That Diavolo sent them back knowing they’d be harmed.” 

“Possibly.” 

“I don’t think they should go to the party,” Beelzebub said, panic rising in his voice. “What if Diavolo tries something? What if they get hurt again?” 

“What if Belphie hurts them again?” Leviathan challenged. 

“Belphie wouldn’t do that!” 

“Diavolo wouldn’t allow it,” Lucifer reminded. 

“How can you be sure?” Beelzebub dug his nails into the table.

“He isn’t.” Satan had an annoying habit of reading Lucifer's thoughts. “Though that seems to be the nature of their relationship.” 

“Tell him no, Lucifer,” Beelzebub yelled. “They shouldn’t have to go. It’s just not right—“ 

“You all will NOT continue these discussions.” Lucifer jolted from his chair, the force toppling it over with a loud thud. “Do you not realize the severity of your diatribe? What you speak of is treason!” 

Lucifer bore his sight on all of them. Not again, he thought. I will not let this happen again. 

“I understand that you’ve grown fond of them,” Lucifer tried to soften his voice, yet it scrapped against his throat. “You worry of their safety here, yet they are a human whose stay in this realm is limited, while you are its lords. Your duties, regardless of feelings, remain bound to it. Do NOT forget yourselves.”

No one moved, yet the room still trickled with the heat of defiance. Lucifer bent over, his face reflecting against the murky black of his coffee. He really did look terrible. 

“Let’s all just calm down.” Asmodeus slowly raised his hands. “Beel, look at your plate. You haven’t even finished your 5th stack of pancakes. And Mammon, you love runny eggs. Levi…well, you haven’t eaten anything but still! And Satan worked so hard to make breakfast.” He gave Lucifer a wary smile. “Let’s just eat and prepare for the day, hm?” 

Lucifer heaved forth his breaths. Control. He needed to have control. "Eat...your god damn...breakfast." For fucks sake, let that be the end of it. To spend the last five minutes of breakfast in peace was all he asked. 

“Well, so much for a start to a peaceful morning,” Belphegor’s voice crept in. “Looks like I missed one of Lucifer’s famous lectures. Thankfully.” 

No rest for the wicked, indeed. Lucifer gritted his teeth. “You’re late.”  

“Nothing too unusual about that.” Belphegor yawned. “Man, I’m tired.” And looked around. “Why is everyone….so quiet?” 

Leviathan shoved away his food and rose from his chair. “I think…I’m going to head to class.” 

Asmodeus pointed at his plate. “Aren’t you going to have some breakfast?” 

“Nah. I’ll grab something at the cafeteria at school.” 

“Since I doubt you'll do so,” Asmodeus stood as well, “I’ll just mosey right along with you.” 

“I’ll go with you.” Satan grabbed his book and tossed it in his bag. 

“Me too,” Beelzebub said, spearing no glance at Belphegor. 

Mammon frowned, and with a defeated tone, said, “Oh. In that case, uh…maybe I’ll head off too.”

Belphegor was a stone and his brothers rushed past like ripples of water, barely fazed. Then, as if remembering Lucifer's presence, scowled at him before stomping from the room, his hurried steps pelting the wooden floor, the brief pounding of cobblestone from the entryway, then nothing. 

They were alike, him and Belphegor, and that’s what scared Lucifer most. When the youngest stood alone to confront Diavolo, beyond the burning embarrassment, Lucifer saw himself, standing before his Father. It’d been the same when he stood above the stairway, hands stained with blood, the human dead at his feet. He couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Not because he'd failed, but because of one singular thought: if not Belphegor, then him. 

If not Belphegor, then it very well would’ve been him.  

If not Belphegor, then it very well would’ve been him.  

A laugh, small and bitter, broke the silence of the dining room. With a mournful smile, Lucifer began to gather the soiled dining wear, having come to a very late but much-needed epiphany: 

He fucked up. 

[thegreatzombieartisan]

Mairon and Melkor: The Apollonian and Dionysian

Mairon and Melkor are incompatible — at least, that’s a popular view. On the surface, it’s a reasonable: one seeks order, the other destruction. I’ve always rejected this premise yet struggled to properly articulate why beyond “order is drawn to chaos.”

Recently I came across Frederich Nietschze’s The Birth of Tragedy about ancient Greek deities Apollo and Dionysus. Both Mairon and Melkor have striking similarities to them, the two gods of art.

Apollonian Order, Dionysian Swag

In the Nietschzean lens, Apollo is the god of order, precision, structure, and harmony. Dionysus, on the other hand, represents chaos, unrestrained passion, and divine intoxication.

Just like Apollo and Dionysus, Mairon and Melkor symbolize contrasting cosmic forces in Arda. Two halves of a whole. Both are reminders of our dual nature of reason and primal instinct.

The Apollonian spirit inspires beauty and excellence, yet if lacking the vitality of Dionysus, it heads toward stagnation and decay. Similarly, Dionysian zeal overcomes fear and obstacles yet without Apollonian wisdom, it can lead to indulgence, madness, or death.

As the most powerful being after Illuvatar, Melkor offers what Mairon lacks: connection to raw vitality and wild abandon. In turn, Mairon brings rational thinking and a structured framework to efficiently channel Melkor’s wild spirit.

“But did Mairon know Melkor just wanted to destroy?” Yes and no. Being a Maia, or ‘beautiful artist’, Mairon knew what every artist knows. To quote Picasso:

“Every act of creation begins with an act of destruction.”

Mairon was misled by Melkor but hardly ignorant. He first assessed Melkor’s destructive impulses and power was during the Music, where none of the Ainur, not even Manwe, could halt his discord — only Illuvatar could put Melkor in his place. It’s cliche, but like a moth to a flame, he almost certainly tuned into the frenzied spectacle of Melkor’s lust for dominance.

From of the Maiar, many were drawn to his splendour in his days of greatness… (Silmarillion, “Valaquenta”)

Being a lesser Ainu, Mairon lacked the ability to assert his will against the Valar alone. Moreover, his orderly and conforming nature would be hesitant to “break bad.” Instead he joined forces with Melkor, using his master’s will-to-power like a bulldozer clearing the way so he can, as promised, organize Middle Earth. Mairon gambling everything for nothing less.

Apollonian and Dionysian energies are not compromise or dichotomy but balance; embracing extremes that manifests creative will. In this manner, Mairon and Melkor harnessed this oscillation, this to-and-fro of dynamic tension — passion and prudence, chaos and control, discipline and savagery — to plunge themselves into deeper depths of malicious artistic achievement.

Melkor’s reign becomes a bacchanalia of greed, torment, and degeneracy. Each assault on the Children — from breeding orcs to the sacking of Gondolin — is a frenzied ritual feasting on their freedom and wills. Not merely evil misdeeds, they are forms of responsive art meant to desacralize beauty and demoralize, like smearing shit on the Mona Lisa. All in effort to keep the Children’s attention downward, away from higher purpose and guidance.

Unlike Apollo and Dionysus, Mairon and Melkor are not on equal footing. As a Vala and Maia, master and servant, Melkor’s chaotic spirit would inevitably prevail over Mairon’s desire for organization. When caution and restraint was needed, Mairon would have faced challenges to curbing his master’s impulses.

Toward the end of Melkor’s reign, Mairon’s loyalty would be tested to its limit. As the dark lord’s nihilism deepened, the relationship between he and his chief servant would destabilize and adversely impact their cause.

Mairon’s counsel, once taken as near gospel, may be disregarded or even ridiculed. But without Apollonian disciplined structure, Melkor would indulge in superficial pleasures and diversions, gradually losing touch with reality. Without Dionysian vitality, Mairon’s innovative edge would stifle, leaving him on autopilot.

With Melkor sent into the Void, Mairon emerges from his servitude, this fever dream of eons but not unscathed.

he fell back into evil, for the bonds that Morgoth had laid upon him were very strong.

‘Bonds’ being the divine intoxication of the raw Dionysian spirit.

[meadowtwins]

Information sheet about Dionysus 🍇:

When being interested in deity worship it is important to do the regarding research about, well, everything. Not every source is tells you all the Information you need to gather. There's always gonna be a few questions you may have left unanswered so I'll try to mash it all up together in one post as a (hopefully) trustworthy source! The Information gathered below me, beside the basics is mostly based on all the questions I used to have that were left unanswered for a LONG while. (Long Post ahead)

Dionysus (Di-on-y-sus) also called Bacchus, is a member of the twelve greek Olympians. He is roughly classified as God of wine, fertility, vegetation, reincarnation, parties and festivites, comedy and tragedy plays, madness and wilderness. Bacchus is the Roman given name, depraved from the frenzy and madness he induced, called Baccheia. Additionally the Romans called him Liber Pater, meaning free father.

Family: His Father was Zeus, his Mother the mortal Semele (who was also classified as the Goddess of Bacchic frenzy), no full blooded siblings, his Wife was Ariadne

Myth: Simply told, Zeus and Semele were lovers. Hera, Wife of Zeus and Goddess of lawful marriages, women and family and marital harmony, felt jealousy and persuaded a pregnant Semele to ask Zeus if he would show her his true self. Now this part gets told each way, he agrees and his godly divinity burns her to death, or her consistant asking made him so angry that he let thunder rain onto her, resulting into her death. Either way, after her Death, Zeus feels compassion for the yet unborn child, cuts it out off Semeles body to sew it into his thigh until it can rightfully be born. The next part gets told differently. After his birth, Hera was so enranged that he was alive that she ordered the Titans to kill him. After they have ripped him apart, Rhea allegedly revived him again and Zeus ordered him to be brought up by the Nymphs. His attribute of the reincarnation steems from this myth. Differently it gets told like this: When he was born, out of protection, he was given to a foster parent. Now this again is different in each myth. Sometimes he was entrusted to Hermes, other times Seilenos, even after that he was given to Semeles sister and her husband. Eventually Hera found out about his location and drove the couple into madness, letting them murder each other. After this he wandered the world in search of his purpose. During his travels he learned of vine, wine-making, etc. He arrived in Greece then Thebes long time after trying to establish a reign. Marking his name as God of Epiphany (The god who comes). The, mostly winemaking skills, he has learned abroad impressed the people. But the ones in power, such as his cousin Perseus, denied his worship and disbelieved his divinity. Soon he has gotten his own cult under the influence of ecstasy and madness. Mostly the woman of Thebes have taken a liking to his influence, they were called Maenads. Everyone who was against his reign and the madness he spread were destroyed (by his Thyrsus in the Myths). His influence became wide spread, marking his title as the God of madness and frenzy.

Cultural context: Knowingly, he was worshipped in Naxos, Boiotia and Edonia. There he was seen as a God of Orphic Mysteries, A God of the Eleusinian Mysteries or God of the vegetable Gardens.

Attributes: Grape-vine, Ivy crown, Thyrsus, Parties and Festivites, Wilderness and Vegetation and Comedy and Tragedy Plays

Sacred things: Thyrsus, grape-vine, Ivy, Cinnamon, Silver Fir, Bindweed, Wheat, Barley, Leopard, Cheetah, Tiger, Goat, Donkey, Lion, Serpent, Wild bull, Apples, Figs, Berries, Acting, Wine, Drunkeness and Pleasure, Festivites, Ecstasy, Reincarnation, Predatory big cats, Homosexuality, the Colors Red, Purple, Gold and the Card of the Devil/Hanged Man

His Worship: Broadly his cult was called Bacchic, the followers Bacchantes. Some called it Dionysian Mysteries. He was called Dionysus Eleutherius, the liberator, as his wine, the madness and ecstasy free his followers from their monotone life and subvert their fear into something powerful. Those who believed in him were at first ridiculed until they realized what the consequences of being against his reign entailed. The first of his followers were the women, who were called Maenads. In their madness they tore wild animals apart, wearing their fur as devotion and even their family, believing them to be leopards/panthers of that sort. These Maenads additionally wore Ivy crowns as to honor Dionysus' attributes. Under his influence people were believed to be possessed by his godly powers, letting them gain unhuman strength. Followers of him included spirits of fertility, such as Satyrs.

Festivities: Dionysia (lesser Dionysia) was one of the oldest festivals in dedication to Dionysus. It was said to celebrate to cultivation of vine. Timewise it was celebrated around modern December/January. It was centered on a procession, followed by drama performances. City Dionysia (greater Dionysia) was a festival held three month after lesser Dionysia, modern March/April. This festival was more elaborate and carried more worthy offerings such as wooden statue of Dionysus. The followed drama performances were performed by more noteworthy playwrights. Anthesteria celebrated the beginning of spring. It span across three days, with each day regarding a tradition in honor of Dionysus.

Offering Ideas (traditional and modern): Alcohol (specifically Red wine), Bottles, Corks, Cider, Honeyed Milk, Water, weed or any type of hallucenigens, Drugs, Grape (Grape flavored things), ticket to the Theatre, Costumes/Masks, Pinecones, Fennel, any Wildflower, Figs, Ivy, Honey, Bones, imagery of his sacred animals, preserved Animals, fur cloth, Wheat, Barley, Olive Oil, Musk, Bread, Grape-Vine, Fruit, anything regarding Homosexuality or Effeminaty, Cinnamon, Silver Fir, Apples, storax, thistle, Black diamonds, frankincense, Golden jewerly, Amethyst/Tigereye, concert tickets, any imagery of his attributes, devotional acts of listening to music, singing, going drinking/partying, learning about his attributes, braiding hair, letting your hair grow out, making devotional art/hymns/prayers, wear his colors, sexual acts (only if you're comfortable with that), confidence in yourself, in ancient greece Maenads made blood offerings due to his connection with the dead (see: the myth of him going to the underworld to save his Mother Semele) but be REALLY careful if actually doing that

How to pray/offer to Dionysus: When praying to a Chthonic God you would have your head and hands down with your hair open. The Prayer can be anything. There is an actual structure of a hellenic prayer (invocation, argument, request) but during modern times it isn't necessary. Be respectful and thank him. Traditionally his offerings were burned but again, no necessity. Be sure to have some sort of protection during an offer/a prayer. "Euoi" was a passion cry from Bacchic worshippers that is still used today. You could use it in a prayer!

This is all the main information I've gathered so far. When coming to connect with gods its important to know what they represent and what they're known for.

Happy Witching!

Additional links to check out if you want to learn more about his myths or his connection to his attributes:

[that-cunning-witch]

I think something people need to understand is when we talk about an ancient culture or deity with a queer context, we are often not holding those topics and beings to the same standards we hold today.

Whenever someone comments on the queer history of Ancient Greece (for example), there's always at least one person who says, "well the Ancient Greeks weren't the best people" often referring to pedophilia or sexism, and therefore we shouldn't be talking about these queer moments. Because apparently, if we discuss them in any positive light, we are also accepting of the rampant pedophilia and sexism of the culture at that time.

Do you see what this creates?

If we can't talk about these queer moments in ancient history in a positive light, we must only be able to either talk about them in a negative light or just not talk about them at all. In other words, either paint queer history as a bad thing or just not mention it at all, as though it never existed.

Do you see the problem here?

This isn't to say that we shouldn't talk about the inherent problematic nature of queer culture back then. Yes, Ancient Greece had homosexual relationships, but they were typically between two men in an obvious power dynamic, aka an older man and a younger boy. A homosexual relationship between two men of similar age wasn't as common as we would like to think.

But to say we should discard or discredit all of ancient queer history because of these issues is just blasphemous. It is actually powerful to discuss these topics in a positive light while acknowledging the problems in modern time.

In our time, we have the ability to hold these discussions. These opinions. To be able to say "I'm happy there was trans representation in the Dionysian cults" and "I don't like how during Bacchic frenzies rape was the norm" in the same breath is powerful.

We need to show the world that we have existed since the beginning of time. We need to give a middle finger to every fucking person who tries to take our history and cleanse it for the palettes of the average cishet population.

But to try and sterilize the reality of queer history or, worse, ignore it all together in fear of being lumped in with the history that clearly is not okay, is what the other side wants. They want you to be in fear of queer history. They want you to stop talking about it.

Don't let them erase queer history.

[ryosei-hime]

The Dionysian Aspects of Queen Bee

Looking at Bee through the lens of a devotee of Dionysus is very interesting. So, I thought I’d make a post about it.

Dionysus is often mischaracterized as a drunk, but in reality he’s all about consumption within reason. He encourages drinking to excess so far as it brings you pleasure and joy, but the moment your over-indulgence brings you or others pain or shame, you’ve gone too far. He doesn’t approve of making an ass of yourself.

Which is exactly what you see with Queen Bee and Blitz. The moment Blitz is no longer enjoying himself, but drinking to forget and avoid his problems, she speaks up. If he’s not enjoying himself, she can’t enjoy the energy coming off of him. He’s tainting the punch, killing the vibe.

Dionysus also encourages (especially women and the disenfranchised) to free themselves from the bonds of social restrictions and norms. He influenced women to throw down their weaving, uncover their hair, and run wild in the woods during a time when they rarely got to leave their homes.

We see this with Bee’s party. The guests are all Imps and Hellhounds - those of the lower classes. She chooses to socialize and consort with these classes. While you could say this is because they’re her people, and she’s the progenitor of Hellhounds, she doesn’t have to party with them. She still has a higher position than they do. And while having an affinity for Hellhounds makes sense, she also seems to prefer imps which I personally think points towards simply enjoying the company of lower class demons.

Bee strikes me as someone who would willingly lower herself to their level to an extent for the fun of it. And she may potentially have a preference for those who are more downtrodden in society.

Note I say “to an extent” because she still has power and shows no signs of not wanting it. And she can be a bit rough with her encouragements to party. Her reasons for doing so aren’t entirely altruistic either. She wants others to feel good because she wants to feel good, too.

Dionysus can also be harsh and forceful with his liberation and freedom. It is not always something he allows his followers to choose to engage in. Sometimes, he also throws you into the punch bowl lol.

He’s a powerful God and he has no desire to be anything else. He uses that power and status to get things he wants, fuck with people for fun, and have his own good time. Bee is no more equal to the Hellhounds at her party than Dionysus to the bacchanates of his thiasos. So, in my interpretation, neither wish to actually be equal to the downtrodden they seek to uplift.

I do like to imagine Bee could incite her Hellhounds into a Dionysian frenzy and it would fit with her bee influence fairly well. That is of course just a head canon. But I think it would be a fun power.

Dionysus was also about sexual liberation, and I think she showed a bit of that with her musings over Satan lol.

But, I think, much like Dionysus, Bee is likely an extremely morally complex person. I don’t think she’s as purely good and benevolent as I’ve seen some speculate. Who in Hell is? She’s likely got her darker shades even if on the whole, she’s much more interested in others having fun than some Sins probably are.

Disclaimer: this is just a ramble because I really liked drawing the parallel. It is not an attempt to say that Bee is a terrible, horrible, evil bitch since I know someone will misconstrue it that way somehow, this being the internet and all. But she has notes of a God I worship so it should be obvious that I like her and this is not an attempt at slander.