ꕥ ᴅɪᴏɴʏsᴜs • ɢᴏᴅ ᴏғ ᴡɪɴᴇ, ᴠᴇɢᴇᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ғᴇʀᴛɪʟɪᴛʏ, ғᴇsᴛɪᴠɪᴛʏ, ʀɪᴛᴜᴀʟ ᴍᴀᴅɴᴇss, ʀᴇʟɪɢɪᴏᴜs ᴇᴄsᴛᴀsʏ, ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴀᴛᴇʀ ꕥ

seen from Poland
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seen from Malta

seen from United States
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seen from United States
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seen from Malaysia
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seen from Poland
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ꕥ ᴅɪᴏɴʏsᴜs • ɢᴏᴅ ᴏғ ᴡɪɴᴇ, ᴠᴇɢᴇᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ғᴇʀᴛɪʟɪᴛʏ, ғᴇsᴛɪᴠɪᴛʏ, ʀɪᴛᴜᴀʟ ᴍᴀᴅɴᴇss, ʀᴇʟɪɢɪᴏᴜs ᴇᴄsᴛᴀsʏ, ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴀᴛᴇʀ ꕥ

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“I shall not mention his curls, for fear of vexing Apollo by slighting the complexion of the Therapnean hyacinth.”
(Nonnus, Dionysiaca, 135)
First, Hyacinth has Aphrodite approved curls.
Second, Hyacinthus had to die because the world wasn’t ready for the two people with the best hair ever to date each other.
It’s him…
Bollywood Ariadne and Dionysus in what I like to call @starweaverblog ‘s Y2K Dionysiaca
According to Servius, Carpus was the son of Zephyrus, the god of the west wind, by the nymph Chloris.

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Omg, how could I forget that scene in Book 8 of the Dionysiaca where Hera complains about Zeus to his thunder and lightning and asks them to avenge her? Lmao
"With these words Hera left the house, and the girl still in her grief, jealous of the inimitable state of Hera’s marriage and unsatisfied with Cronion. Hera returned to heaven and went indoors. There beside the heavenly throne she saw the weapons of Zeus lying without their owner; and as if they could hear, she addressed them in friendly cajoling words: “Dear Thunder, has Zeus my cloudgatherer deserted you too then? Who has stolen you again and left your owner naked? Thunder, you have been plundered! But Typhoeus has nothing to do with it. The same has happened to Hera, my comforter: Rainy Zeus has a bride to look after and neglects us both. The earth is no more sprinkled with showers: the downfall of rain has ceased, drought feeds on the plowland furrows and makes the crops worthless, the countryman speaks not more of Cloudy Zeus but Zeus Cloudless. My dear Lightnings, utter your fiery appeal to Cronion, call upon womanmad Zeus, my thunderbolts! Avenge the jealous pain of Hera, attend upon Semele’s wedding! Let her pray for a wedding-gift and receive her own fiery destroyers!”"
Happy rural dionysia! Tis the season to parade the giant phallus totem into town while we all wear our leather strap ons and sing praise to the god of hedonism! Let us be merry as we get so drunk we can't stand straight and have a massive orgy in the middle of the fifth satyr play of the night! Ho ho ho!
Silenus, foster father of Dionysus, with two little Satyrisci (child satyrs) 🤏🤲
I like imagining Silenus as a grumpy but caring nurse to all the young satyrs in his tribe, he’s like everyone’s grandpa lol