#The Last Bacchae

[aimee-maroux]

I saw that reblog where you said you have a nude statue as your background so I clicked in to check it. Wow I wasn’t expecting this. It’s a compliment btw

Awww, thank you! It's a close-up of Michelangelo's David's... package 😁

I am still using it here but it will be replaced soonish with a new header image I commissioned @thelastbacchae to draw for me 🥰

I hope they don't mind me sharing the WIP?

This is the censored version, there will be an uncensored one too 😏

#ask #ask box #artistic nudity #commission #The Last Bacchae #Greek mythology #Greek mythology art #Amphitrite #Hera #Aphrodite #Ares #Dionysos #Apollon #Dionysus #Apollo

[thelastbacchae]

Ch. 5, Page 42. << Previous || Start Reading || Next >>

The classic equivalent of getting married in Las Vegas while drunk.

Note: The version of the myth of Dionysos and Ariadne we state here is not perfectly adhering to the sources, but it was adapted a little by Arja, who frankensteined some versions and interpretations. The version that claims that Theseus didn't left Ariadne alone on Naxos willingly, but was instead told to do so by Dionysos himself, can be found in Diodorus Siculus (Greek historian of the I century a.C., Biblioteca Historica, 5. 51. 4). On the other hand, the correspondence between Dionysos and the Minotaur was taken from the analyses of Karolyi Kerenyi on the cult and the dionysian mysteries (in "Dionysos" and "The Gods and Heroes of Greece" in particular). Dionysos was as a matter of fact called by his followers in the mysteries "bull-horned god"... And also as a proper "Star", just as the Minotaur was (from his name, "Asterius", which means "Star"), as we can also find in Aristophanes (Frogs, 342) and Sophocles (Antigone, 1146).

#the last bacchae #webcomics #greek mythology #dionysus #ariadne #minotaur #labyrinth #tlb: update #digital art #digital colouring #comics #comic pages #comics art #greek myths #myths #legends #greek gods #theseus #modern myths #mythology #bacchae #art #artists #artists on tumblr

[actually-the-antichrist]

Our class went to Delphi today and I finally got to wear the fit I saved up for this specific site. This flag to me is the sacred symbol that I choose to associate with this place and carrying it all the way up was amazing (as was yelling "Dionysus says trans rights!" from the base of the theatre).

Shoutout to Seren from the Last Bacchae comics lol, now I finally get to visit in person the place that inspired those panels.

@thelastbacchae

#Delphi #trans #The Last Bacchae #Apollo #Dionysus

[greypetrel]

For the kiss and tell, do I name just the OC(s) or the prompt to go along with it as well?

Just a few (too many) ideas:

Dionysos / Luke: a kiss shared during a game 

Dionysos / Apollo: kissing them to shut them up

Seren's parents (maybe when they first met? It's Ireland after all 😜) sharing a kiss in a heavy downpour of rain

Orestes / Dylan, the OTP: kiss to resolve suppressed romantic/sexual tension

Shahra / Winnie / Mr Darcy (or any combination thereof): a kiss after joining your lover in the shower

Pick the one you wanna do the most 💜

Love, Aimée

Hello! <3

Thank you for the lots of prompts! I did one, may return to do some others… And in writing. I've not been so inspired with TLB, but this may be the way to kick me back in again!

For all the others who don’t know what this is about: These are characters from the webcomic I’ve been writing and drawing (the colours are made by one of my dearest friends, who’s not on Tumblr actively for me to tag) in the last years: @thelastbacchae. It’s Greek Mythology set in the modern day. Seren is a Classic enthusiast who went on a school trip and had a too close encounter with Dionysos, who now lives with her as the house cat. It turned out that Seren’s parents… Already knew Dionysos, and Circe as well.)

I wanted to post a couple, but this was something I had in mind since LONG and… My hand slipped. And I’m wordy.

Seren's parents (maybe when they first met? It's Ireland after all 😜) sharing a kiss in a heavy downpour of rain

There really was no point, then. The refusal stung bitterly at him, as much as one big part of his brain told him he has been overly lucky to get out of that room with just a bloody nose, not broken, a black eye and bruises all over. And two gods walking behind him, quarrelling fiercely amongst them, as they never seemed to stop doing.

The last three weeks had been a blur of events, and he felt his life turned upside down, in the worst possible way. He celebrated his first year in Dublin, his Diploma in Old Irish for his PhD, and acceptance on the second year of Early Irish. The exam session was oncoming, but he wasn’t worried about that. That was, indeed, the least of his problems.

The biggest one, now, was how ever he was going to explain to professor Byrne the poor state of his appearance. He watched himself in the reflection of a car, and he looked like he ran face first against a double decker. Very unbecoming for a Trinner assistant, he knew. He just hoped that Trinity had a more lenient environment than Oxford. Or he was fucked.

The second problem, was the fact that he apparently had made friends with none other than Circe. Sorceress, daughter of Helios, the very same. She was nice company, normal enough or striving to be so. They met when they both were new at university, and he caught on pretty quickly that there was something weird with her. For once, she enrolled in a post-graduate course and had no idea on how universities worked. He had been told many times that he was “Born an old man”, his social life was close to zero, outside books and old ruins, but she beated him in stride. They clicked, he helped her out, she told him who he was. It was as good as it could get, being underdogs together.

And then, her friend came by in town. Her friend who was Dionysos. Her friend who was suddenly VERY interested in him, because a friend of his -Tom didn’t understand if it was a boy or a girl, they called them John and Ariadne interchangeably- had to… Reincarnate. And he was supposed to be the father. Apollo told them so.

What Tom didn’t know, beside the fact that he should really have paid more attention to Plato’s theory, apparently, was that ancient deities are apparently terrible matchmakers.

Because the supposed mother was none other than Johanna Connelly. The most beautiful girl in the camp, a brilliant name in the Microbiology Faculty, so much so that her name was known even in Humanities. And, an activist.

Tom knew her. Tom knew her on sight, and it would be a lie saying that when they told him, his heart didn’t skip a beat at the idea and suddenly fell like the main character of a fairy tale.

Except, gods are real, but fairy tales aren’t, and Johanna and him lived on different planets. She was popular, fashionable, had lots of friends she went out with, she was Irish and could be found on campus distributing fliers and informative leaflets about this and that social cause. Once she tied herself to the doors to protest for equal rights. Tom never saw anything so beautiful, like Queen Medb facing the ire of Conchobar and kicking him out of her palace, powerful and unstoppable. And it was rumoured her brothers were activists up in Belfast, fighting for the reunification. Some said IRA, whispered as a secret. But Tom heard. And he was but an English bookworm, with a penchant for ancient Celtic history that always made him too enthusiast in speaking, a heavy Hampshire accent on his own, socially awkward, knew nothing about fashion, and too shy and timid to enter some social protest.

It was impossible, as three weeks of setting ups showed. And there’s really a long way two gods can go to set you up with another mortal. A long way. But it wasn’t enough if none of them was Aphrodite or Eros, and one of the pair refused to call them, refused to force her into something she may not want. It didn’t feel right.

He tried to talk to her, tried to bring her flowers -but he chose Orchids for their meaning of beauty and charm… And she protested that he spent money on flowers that were imported from so much south, releasing pollution into the air with who knew how many consequences, the planet wouldn’t survive so long if we keep wasting fuel for orchids. She was right, and he was mortified. He should have thought it. Diotima -Circe- had grumbled that there was no need to be so bitchy about it. But he stopped her. They tried again. And again. Going to a party she was at didn’t work, he didn’t find an excuse to greet her and she started dancing with one of her friend. Or was it a girlfriend?. Same pub? He got caught to drink by a group of friendly people, and by the time he could look up she was gone. They had no lesson in common, couldn’t study together.

Desperate, he listened to the rumours. He sought a group of young militants for Ulster Independency. Not the IRA, of course. Baby steps.

Diotima had told him it was a terrible idea. Dionysos scrunched his nose at the methods, grumbled it was his brother’s territory and he could help little… But admitted it could have worked. Just show up, see what they’re talking about, we’ll bring you out if it escalates.

The situation didn’t escalate so quickly. He entered a cell of young people, found by the two gods, and for the first time it was nice. He used his mother’s surname, O’Sullivan, instead of his father’s, told them he was Irish, but his family had to move to England. Gained sympathies. He had brains to him, which was appreciated, he could talk about philosophy and the reunions he attended were just that. Talking.

For a minute, Diotima and his conscience telling him that it was wrong, he should lose them and get out while he still could, it was all right. It was fun, it was nice, he felt part of something bigger and he felt amidst friends.

So much that, this evening, he told them.

Told them his surname was Calvert, just his maternal grandfather was Irish, that he grew up in Southampton, was English, but loved Ireland more than he could say, and felt so welcome.

They didn’t take it well.

By the time Diotima flashed them, becoming incandescent as the sun for a moment, and Dionysos flicked his fingers a purple haze -Dionysos hummed Jimi Hendrix’s song as it did- rose up in the room, rendering everyone too stunned to do much but flop on the ground and laugh in an alcoholic stupor, he was spitting blood, his nose bleed profusely, one of his eyes was so swelled he couldn’t see, and he was so sore that breathing hurt.

The two brought him out, Circe fed him a very bitter plant that made his bleeding stop, and here they were, returning home under a sky that promised rain, dark and cloudy as his mood. He left his umbrella in the flat, and someone took his wallet. He had no money to go back home -gods tend to forget of the practicality of life, at least Circe apologized- and so he was walking, all the way to Rathmines, feeling hopeless and stupid.

“This was the stupidest idea ever! How could you think it would work?”

“Oh sure, because the orchids were so effective!”

“Orchids to an environmentalist! What a great idea!”

“I grew them myself, they didn’t pollute anything!”

“Sure, cow-head, because mortals contemplate the fact that flowers grow when you step!”

“Said the one who made one friend and spat everything out!”

“At least my mortal friend doesn’t hate me! When was the last time you even saw John? Eh? When the Beatles split?”

“You’re insufferable!”

“Said the god of ritual madness!”

Tom couldn’t take it one minute more. He had enough. So, he took the situation in his hands, and for once in his life gave in to anger, turning on his heels and yelling right back.

“Would you please stop it?!”

They did, both snapping their heads toward him, surprised. Tom straightened his eyeglasses on his nose, broken but better than not having them. He could see through the cracks.

“It won’t work, no matter how hard you try. I let myself hope miracles could happen and look at me. I’m hurting all over, I will be kicked out tomorrow because I was stupid about this whole story, and without this PhD, I have nothing! I’ll end up digging some place random, never publish my own research, and for what? For running after a fairy tale?”

He leashed out, clenching his fist at his sides and swallowing some more blood that trickled down his throat from his nose, the agitation opening wounds up again.

“I am sorry I made you lose so much time, it was fun spending time with you and Circe, you’re my best friend and I love you. But sincerely, I’m out. I give up. Find another guy.”

If Circe looked down at the pavement, with real sorrow, Dionysos just glared at him with some threat. Like a panther stalking its prey, golden eyes closing down at him, lips contracting in a thin line.

“There’s a prophecy.” He hissed, gravely.

“I don’t care.” Tom debated, shrugging. “It’ll come true whether I’m trying or not. Or it was another Thomas Calvert, or another Historian. I… I’m sorry. I can’t do this, not anymore.”

Tom was, indeed, sorry. He turned on his heels, leaving them. Remotely, he could hear the noise of a step, some breath taken too quickly, before Circe spoke. “No. Let him go.”. He was grateful for her, really. She was company when he was alone, and he was sad to have disappointed her in helping with her family. He would have bought her some baklava from the place she liked most. If she ever showed up on Campus again.

He turned a corner and he was alone, none following him. That was good. Now if the sky, or Zeus at this point, would just start raining, he would have been satisfied and allowed himself to cry. As childish as it would be, he needed crying. He really like Johanna, he admired her strength, her willingness to fight so fiercely for others, for people she didn’t even know. He wasn’t like that, and would never be. His place was in the back of a library, submerging in another world, another time when things were, apparently, easier. Or at least, certain in their ending. The present had not the certainty of history, if you didn’t know the future. Or if the future you knew clearly didn’t talk about you.

Vaguely he could hear faint steps behind him, of a person who was running. A person with heels, from the concitated click-clack of heels. He couldn’t care less. The streetlight was red anyway, he just stepped on the side to let the runner pass easily.

But, to his surprise, he felt someone grabbing at his elbow, strongly, and try to turn him around.

The panic from the afternoon he just spent rose up again instinctively, and his first reaction was to resist the movement and crouch down again, to protect himself. Not another time, please. Not today.

Nonetheless, the hand of his elbow resisted, and it became two hands, one on the opposite shoulder, clenching down.

“Hey! Hey, it’s me! I’m not gonna hurt you!”

He froze on his spot, not daring to open his eyes. Or well, the one eye that was functional at the moment.

“I’m so sorry, I heard… I came as fast as I could. Did they…” The hands shifted. “Oh, feck, what did they do to you…”

There was a sad rage in the voice that was speaking to him. A feminine voice he knew, even if he never heard them with that tone of voice. It was a voice fit for indignation, for speaking up, for denouncing and for justice. The tenderness was… Weird. In a nice way that poked directly at his heart and at some budding feeling. He opened his eye, tentatively, and…

… And Johanna Connelly was staring at him, frowning in disapproval, but with a weird turn of her lips. Something that, again, spoke of tenderness.

“I-I’m sorry.” He told her, instinctively, trying to retract from her.

“Of what?” She snorted, shaking her head in a wave of loose curls. “I am sorry for you. I was there to pick my brother up… And he told me what happened. He recognised you in that room. I was close by.”

She confessed, calmly. It didn’t seem like she hated him.

“There was…?”

“Yes, Oisin. That idiot. Tall, red leather jacket. Tell me he didn’t…”

He remembered him. So Circe and Dionysos DID got him in the right group after all. He hadn’t bothered to ask for everyone’s surnames.

“He didn’t.”

“He didn’t even stop them tho. Oh, I’m going to punch him.” She groaned, furrow deepening on her face.

Tom could not make out heads from tail about why exactly she was there. Sure, by his many trials to approach her, she must remember him… But running after him after he was beaten?

“I- There’s no need to. I was stupid about it, and… Johanna, right?” He cleared his throat, embarrassed and dying to change the subject.

“Yes. And you’re Thomas. From Celtic Studies.”

“I-… Do you know me?”

“Orchid lad? How could I forget!” She laughs, briefly and clear, patting his shoulder and offering her arm to take. “Genius English that can take every Irishmen on Gaelic and even speaks some Welsh? You’re not so invisible as you think you are.”

The way she said it, with a warm smile on her face, it really seemed like a compliment. He smiled back, taking her arm with his and letting her lead him across the street. They exchanged small talk, topic going to something lighter and less consequential. He told her he was going to Rathmines, and that he forgot his wallet in the jacket back there, with his umbrella. She promises to bring everything back to him, should she kick every one of the idiots in the group herself. She assured him he would not have been fired, no matter what those pompous stuck-ups at Oxford would have said. This was no England anymore, luckily.

She brought him to a bus stop and put some coins in his hand, telling him he would have given them back later, it was not a problem.

“It’s really the least I could do, after my brother just… Watched as a bunch of eejits beated you because you happened to be English.” She snorted.

“It is not a problem, for you? You seem very active and… Well…”

“The rumours?” She sighed, heavily, crossing her arms before her chest. “Don’t tell me you believe them, please. Some people just see anyone standing up for civil rights and shout at the IRA. I hate this situation. I hate this country.”

It broke his heart a little, in compassion. He could relate wanting to get away from a country you don’t like. He already ran from England, after all.

“It’s not so bad. You have no Margaret Thatcher running for PM, at least…”

She laughed at that, turning towards him with a bigger smile.

“But living in London would be so fun.”

“Tell me after you look at the rental prices.”

He laughed as well, joining her. For a minute, they laughed together, and she leaned her hand on his arm again. Tom’s heart beated fast. She wasn’t so difficult to talk to, after all. Quite the contrary. She looked up again, smiling.

“I’m sorry about what happened, really. You didn’t deserve it.”

“Don’t mention it. You shouldn’t have run after me like that. I appreciate it! But I… I must not have made a good impression to you.”

Johanna’s smile faltered, head leaning on the side.

“Why so? You’ve been around for some time, yes, but what did you do wrong?”

“The orchids. And… Well.” He indicates himself.

“You’re pointing at the whole of you.” She noted, amused.

“Bookworm, human disaster, I’ll show up tomorrow with the ugliest pair of extra eyeglasses ever. I actually like tweed.”

She laughed again, loud and boisterously. Very little feminine, but Tom couldn’t care less. She was even more beautiful.

“It’s not that bad, and come on. It could be worse.”

“… It could be raining?” He couldn’t help the quotation, a dope smile creeping on his face. Crooked and ugly, but happy. She didn’t seem to mind that he wass beaten up, and smiled back, the same glint in her eyes.

“Want to dig up some cemeteries? I could do some studies over corpses and skeletons…”

And then, as on clue, a first drop of rain fell down, hitting Johanna’s hand. Big and fat. A second followed, on Tom’s nose. A third, a fourth, a fifth… And suddenly, it was heavily pouring over them, on their own with no umbrella, Tom didn’t even have a jacket to be gallant and cover her up. They laughed, madly and furiously, Tom made a bold move and circled her shoulder under his arm, dragging her against the wall of the closest building for the small repair of the roof up above. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. Johanna patted on his chest, clearing her throat.

“Your bus is coming.”

“Oh.”

A pause, both looking at the double decker slowly approaching. With disappointment.

“Would you like to lunch together, tomorrow?” He asked, abruptly, averting his eyes suddenly as he realised that he was still hugging her shoulders and now asking her to lunch together. “Ah… So I can give you back your money, that is.” He corrected.

“I’d like that. Very much. Even if you don’t have the money. 12:30 at the Campanile?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good.”

And with that, and all of a sudden, as the bus was getting closer and closer, she pushed up on her toes, grabbed his pullover on his chest to bring him down and meet his lips in a soft, sweet kiss, slick with rain, but very careful not to hurt him. Delicate, but not casual. He kissed her back, closing his eyes and sighing into it, heart beating a crazy rhythm in his ears.

“Now, Orchid lad, go home and get some rest.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He couldn’t but smile at her, at the faint blush on her high cheekbones.

She snorted again, shaking her head and bringing him to the bus again, by his arm. She got assured he had enough for the ticket, and waved a goodbye as he stood to watch her.

“I’m sorry for the orchids. They were pretty.”

“You were right about them. I’d find you better flowers. If you’d like.”

She laughed again. Masculine and unapologetic.

“You’re so English, asking please and thank you even for flowers!”

“Shouldn’t I do it?”

“Stop it! But no. It’s cute.”

Tom couldn’t reply with anything in time, as the doors of the bus closed between them. All that was left was wave each other goodbye with their end, equally blissful smiles on both faces.

Maybe, after all, Tom shouldn’t give up.

He would have brought a double dose of baklava to Circe. And maybe some tartare to Dionysos. He said he favoured raw meat, after all. He would have apologised to both of them. Maybe fairy tales did come true, after all.

#modern myths #modern mythology #greek mythology #dionysos #circe #the last bacchae #writing petrel #urban fantasy #ireland #I do wonder who was this John Ariadne incarnated in uwu #Surely the band reference is very casual

[hearts-entwine]

#last year i wrote the most unhinged essay on this play for my classics exam #the bacchae my beloved #the bacchae #euripides #euripides bacchae #greek mythology #dionysus #the secret history

[grendelsmilf]

not enough sparagmos posting tbh. i thought this was the cannibalism website

#it’s like no one cares about the bacchae suddenly last summer perfume earthlings #o

[porciaenjoyer]

emailing my beloved teacher brings out something evil in me.. i told her my life currently can be divided into three parts "which is interestingly what julius caesar said about gaul"

#and those parts are. school.. extracurriculars.. and who wants to guess the last one. that's right! the house #sorry for living a stressful life i also think about umm. part four tennyson. part five chess forever.. part six the bacchae #thoughts

[fiasramblings]

seeking out advice from those more experienced with deity worship !!!!

I started questioning my identity as an atheist sometime last summer when I was getting more into Greek Mythology/Hellenistic Paganism and the gods who stuck out to me the most were Dionysus and Apollo. throughout the months I've been, of course, learning much more about—well, Dionysus specifically. I haven't been as interested in Apollo anymore as I was before. sometime in the past few months, I've decided I'm a pagan, and that I do want to work with the gods/goddesses. I've also been so very interested and lowkey obsessed with Dionysus and the Maenads. for about a week now, I seriously cannot stop thinking about him. it's bizarre to me as, as I mentioned before, I used to be an atheist (I was one my entire life). every day I just think about him when I wake up and when I go to sleep. I couldn't imagine it being anything else other than a sign to just set up an altar already, but I'm still unsure as I do not want to work with a god before I understand them and comprehend what they are capable of if that makes sense. I've been seeking out media about Dionysus and started reading The Bacchae a few days ago. should I start working with him once I've set up an altar—even if at first small—and once I'm sure I understand him to the best of my abilities? for whatever reason, I'm (maybe foolishly) intimidated by the idea of working with a deity.

#pagan #paganism #deity work #paganblr #hellenic pagan #hellenism #hellenic polytheism #religion #girlblogging #questions #q&a #questions and answers #new page #new blog #seeking advice #any help is appreciated #<3 #witchcraft #witchblr

[i-spilled-my-soup]

Top 5 fav characters in the whole percy jackson series?

in no particular order. and biased with my personal headcanon cooking

nico di angelo (to the surprise of no one) cause he's got that inferiority complex and hero complex and that unreliable worldview. he's incorrect about everything. i do wish he was unhappier though

clarisse la rue cause pjo show direction goes CRAZY for her introduction (whole new perspective honestly) and her character arc is gas, she's like achilles without the woman-hating

dakota (no last name???) he was there for like five minutes but he's so chill it's crazy. i always imagined him with long dreadlocks in a medium-high ponytail for some reason

will solace (also to the surprise of no one) cause he's the opposite of the "hates everyone but you" trope. i imagine he is very kind and patient except when he is with close friends. like the kindness increases with closeness until a point where it turns into strong negative correlation. also inferiority complex and medicine is cool

ummm dionysus is pretty cool, loved when he drove those guys to insanity. real bacchae moment. also pjo show character direction for his introduction goes crazy

also just cause these were off the top of my head... and i am oftentimes far more invested in the character's narrative than actual plot points... this is not reasonable or defendable in any sense of the word so i apologize

shoutout to pjo show direction though. love that narratology. grover is just like me fr. annabeth's lack of any explanation goes crazy she is just like that one smart kid in class whose thought process no one can understand. clarisse direction goes crazy she is actually so intimidating. percy is just a funny guy who loves his mom (dionysus moment). yeah that's the brainpan emptied thumbsup emoji

#soup ask

[nysus-temple]

Dionysus and Demeter [Sources]

In case you didn't know, Dionysus was considered a son of Demeter by some ! You have heard of Semele, Persephone, and people fighting between Hades or Zeus, and how many adoptive parents he had. But Demeter is a very less known mother of this little ram, mainly because we don't have many sources for it... But we still have some, after all. And here i am to show them.

Ἴακχος ( Yaco ) is an epithet for Dionysus, similar to Zagreus or Bacchus, which are also used as a name ! This name was mainly used in the Eleusinian Mysteries, and, well, the name already proves why we have so little sources for this, they're still a big mystery despite everything that has been discovered about them.

It's a common knowledge between scholars to know that Demeter and her daughter ( Persephone ) were the two main goddesses worshipped in this cults, but there were other various gods and being related to these Mysteries, and one of them was a god named Yaco, son of Zeus and Demeter. Yaco has been showed to be considered a different god from Dionysus just like Zagreus, but the most reliable things show that, just like with Zagreus, Yaco is a very common epithet for Dionysus. For example, it is used a lot in The Bacchae from Euripides,

Yaco appears as a main figure in one of the important days for the Eleusynian Mysteries. And you know why? Because he was commemorating a very well-known event by everyone: when Demeter was all over the place looking for her daughter, Persephone. And in the end of the event, he's reunited with both in order to perform dances and rituals regarding the Mysteries.

Some details that show the two of them being close are everywhere, it's just hard to find them. For example, I found this one last year: According to the Orphic Hymn XL to the Eleusinian Demeter, she’s Dionysus’ companion !

We have to remember as well that Persephone, Demeter and Dionysus are all very closely related to snakes ! The first one probably comes due to the whole “Zeus turning into something”; Demeter’s connection comes from the Orphic Hymn XL as well; and Dionysus in one of the many myths, the one in which he’s kidnapped by sailors, he turns the ropes into snakes.

Not to forget the three of them have been considered Ctonic gods at some point or another.

Aaand that was it ! It's not as much as with Semele and Persephone, i'm aware, but sadly this is everything that i've been able to find this far. If i ever have more access to less-known sources, i will let all of you know inmediatly.

This was done mainly for @decemebercircus who was looking for sources regarding Demeter being a mother figure to Dionysus. Hope it works for something.

#dionysus lore #demeter #persephone #eleusinian mysteries #essay

[thelastbacchae]

Ch. 5, Page 43. << Previous || Start Reading || Next >>

Did you really think we already got tired of destroying houses? uwu

(a moment of sileence for whomever will have to clean all that ichor from the walls and the furniture and the pc.)

#the last bacchae #webcomics #greek mythology #dionysus #greek gods #tlb: update #comics #comics art #modern myths #modern mythology #ichor #myths #legends #urban fantasy #digital art #digital colouring #expressive art #bacchae #art #artists #artists on tumbl

[straightplayshowdown]

Round 1 Bracket

Thank you to every single person who submitted to the bracket! The Straight Play Showdown will be a 32 bracket consisting of 35 contestants that were submitted more than once and 29 wildcard contestants. With each poll, there will be a synopsis of both shows (made to the best of my & the internet's ability) and propaganda (if submitted). The bracket will start on Friday September 8 at 6 PM CST.

Below the cut is the Round 1 Bracket!

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead (Stoppard) v Antigone (Sophocles)

Arsenic and Old Lace (Kesselring) v Our American Cousin (Taylor)

Waiting for Godot (Beckett) v Hamlet (Shakespeare)

Midsummer.com (Kobler, Marcus) v Peter Pan Goes Wrong (Lewis, Sayer, Shields)

Indecent (Vogel) v Arcadia (Stoppard)

The Last Days of Judas Iscariot (Gurguis) v Medea (Euripedes)

Wittenberg (Davalos) v The Blender (Harshnel)

Hortensia and the Museum of Dreams (Cruz) v The Ocean at the End of the Lane (Horwood)

Much Ado About Nothing (Shakespeare) v The Rover (Behn)

The Crucible (Miller) v Twelve Angry Men (Rose)

Dog Sees God: Confessions of a Teenage Blockhead (Royal) v DNA (Kelly)

The Bacchae (Euripedes) v The Flies (Sartre)

The Pillowman (McDonagh) v Accidental Death of an Anarchist (Fo)

Fences (Wilson) v Barber Shop Chronicles (Ellams)

Appropriate (Jacobs-Jenkins) v Cleansed (Kane)

Copenhagen (Frayn) v No Exit (Sartre)

Angels in America (Kushner) v The Baltimore Waltz (Vogel)

The Ferryman (Butterworth) v Heroes of the Fourth Turning (Arbery)

Doctor Faustus (Marlowe) v The Importance of Being Earnest (Wilde)

Shoe Lady (Crowe) v Phaedra (Seneca)

The Play That Goes Wrong (Lewis, Sayer, Shields) v Les Fourberies de Scapin (Molière)

The Mostellaria (Plautus) v The Mousetrap (Christie)

The Wolves (DeLappe) v Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime (Stephens)

Pygmalion (Shae) v A Doll's House (Ibsen)

Intimate Apparel (Nottage) v Les liaisons dangereuses (Hampton)

Our Town (Wilder) v A Raisin in The Sun (Hansberry)

The History Boys (Bennett) v Peter and the Starcatcher (Elise)

Art (Reza) v Born With Teeth (Adams)

Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (Albee) v The Death of a Salesman (Miller)

The Mikvah Project (Azouz) v Our Ladies of Perpetual Succour (Hall)

for colored girls who have considered suicide/when the rainbow is enuf (Shange) v Gruesome Playground Injuries (Joseph)

The Woman's Prize, or The Tamer Tamed (Fletcher) v Proof (Auburn)

#text #bracket

[greypetrel]

Crisp those Lines!

Or: a small collection of suggestions for a crispy, neat lineart.

SO MANY OF YOU ASKED FOR THIS (it feels absurd to say, yes), so here you go.

A premise: there's no right or wrong way of inking, and some of the following tips entirely depend on the type of inking I do. Which is neat and clean, with no blacks, and moreover: digitally. More under the cut because it's gonna be long and full of explanatory pictures. Here's an example:

SOFTWARES AND BRUSHES:

Let's address the elephant in the room: Photoshop SUCKS for inking and linework. The stabilisation of the brush there is SHIT. Good for colouring and painting and doing photobashing, but for Lineart you want it to be precise. Do yourself a favour and don't use Photoshop. I generally use Clip Studio Paint, but i have to say that the best program for it that I've tried keeps being Paint Tool SAI 2. It has few functions, it's true, and I use CSP because it has more instruments. But if you don't want to pay much, SAI is incredible as for brush rendition and stabilisation.

As for the brush: you don't need a fancy brush, anything in your software will go. What I use and what works best tho must have:

Tapered start and end.

High stabilisation (I go from 60 upward, lower it down for trees and grass or anything more natural that needs to be less neat and flowy)

Low tapering.

It must be set so that pressure controls only the dimension. The more you push on your pen, the bigger the line gets. No colour or opaciy variation!

On Clip Studio Paint, I use the G-Pen in the program. It's good as it is, but I think I did some variations as per here:

FILE DIMENSIONS:Better work larger and then resize down. Sizing files up digitally is possible, but it leads to unfocused images. I generally work on files at 600dpi (300 is fine too, but don't go any lower. Particularly if that's something you want to print later on, any printing wants a minimum of 300dpi). in roughly an A3 format (bigger dimension is 43cm). Most pictures I upload here are 6000x5000 pixel. A bigger file will give you more possibilities with brush sizes, and it'll be easier. Remember: digitally, sizing down is ok, sizing up is not something you should do.

SKETCH:

This is the suggestion I should follow but never do. Having a clean, polished sketch simplifies your life A LOT. This is because if you don't have to worry about drawing details and fixing the anatomy of your drawing during the lineart, and doing it so GOOD because it's the lineart... You'll go that much slower and your life will be more complicated (it's not impossible, my sketches usually are very rough. I am ok with it, the most I do drawing wise is during the lineart... But I'm lazy, don't do like me. A good sketch will help you out.) Compare the two sketches below:

Another note about your sketch layer: you know those memes that complains that the sketch looks good but when you hide it the lineart is shitty? That's easily solvable. When you're inking, lower the opacity of the sketch layer down, A LOT. I generally go for a 30 or 40% opacity (depending on the colour of the sketch. the yellow sketch will go around 40% because it's less visible, the purple one lower).

When you're inking, you MUST see clearly the lineart you're doing. If the sketch isn't contrasting enough, you won't see clearly what you're doing... It's like trying to sketch with a dim light, not seeing the paper clearly. See the difference:

BEFORE YOU START:

You probably have read it everywhere, but it bears repeating: warm up your hand. You're using muscles and for more than five minutes. The warmer they are, the firmer your hand is, the easier it gets controlling your lines. It also prevents you from damaging your wrist. Stretching is also great, and grippers are nice to have. Keep your hand fit!

As for warming up: I usually do some calligraphy exercises, practicing on flowy cursives. You want to practice varying the pressure of your lines in a single trait, hence why calligraphy is good. But generally, what you can do is...

PRESSURE VARIATION AND LONG LINES:

So. My main tip and trick is to vary the pressure of your lines. In the same line, and between different details. This will help making the lineart more dynamic and interesting. A note: this works for semi-realistic styles. If your goal is obtaining a Cartoon Network style: they have generally little to no variation and it works. My suggestion would be to study the kind of style and effect you want to obtain, different styles will work best with different linearts. If you're aiming at hyperrealistic painting, there's no point in spending time over a lineart, for example, I inked the same lineart, but with a brush that doesn't vary it's dimensions with pressure, and not changing the dimension of the brush.

What makes my linearts look "flowy" and "neat" is the fact that I tend to draw less lines and longer, and pay attention when I stop, to start the line where I end it. This will give the impression of one continuous, single line, and make everything more fluid. See above in the french hood: on the right, I left the line rough on purpose, you can see where I stopped and started again. On the left, where I took care of it, you can't.

Generally speaking:

Thick, dark lines communicate that the object is close to the viewer (always keep the viewer in mind!) or in shadow. Lines should be thicker on the outside of your objects, to separate two planes, and in stuff closer to you.

Thin lines are delicate, they should be used in the background, for small details (see the hair, the lips, the small wrinkles around her eyes.)

As for line continuity: in both cases, the line of her face is one single line I drew. This can be obtained with a smooth result, particularly in curved lines, by getting the brush stabilisation on higher settings (80-100): sacrifice speed for accuracy.

MORE IS MORE, WHEN IT COMES TO LEVELS:

Particularly when there are two objects intersecating, or more characters interacting… Instead of inking all on the same level, I always do one level for each object, trace the WHOLE line as if there was nothing above, and then erase where it's not shown. This is a little thing, but pays off. Always in the drawing of above, the feather and the hem of the bodice were on separate layers, and then I erased the bodice under the feather. Take advantage of being inking digitally and not traditionally!

For many characters, here's an example of a vignette of a comic page before cleaning it up and erasing. Every single character and the weapons are on separate layers

For this it's very useful knowing your recurring mistakes. For example, I tend to draw heads bigger than they should. I know I do, so generally I keep the head on its own level, and the body on another, so it's easier to modify and size down just the head without getting crazy selecting only the lines you want with the lazo.

Again, you're inking digitally. It's not easier than traditionally necessarily, take full advantage of your instrument!

OTHER TIPS AND TRICKS:

High brush stabilisation sacrifices speed for accuracy. The line will lag a little from your cursor. Get used to watching the cursor and not the line, and trust that the line will follow.

GO SLOW.

Rotate and flip the canvas. Don't ask me why, but tracing long lines towards me is always easier than not the other way around.

Use the Free Transform, Warp, Distort etc etc and the Liquify to your heart's content if you notice the lineart has something wrong. The only cheating in art is using fucking AI generators (and AI pictures are not art, sorry not sorry)

References are your friends. Study how an artist you like does the lineart. Try and imitate them, and if you can and need to post them: tag them! (don't trace and sell it as your own)

Experiment with brushes, find one that you like for the effect you'd love. You do you, there's no right or wrong way of inking.

Remember to breathe when you trace those lines! (and to drink and do pauses and stretch, you don't want a tendonitis!)

Have fun. Lineart is not evil, lineart is your friend!

I hope this essay is exhaustive enough. I'm tagging ALL THE PEOPLE that requested it (and giving each of you a muffin). @ndostairlyrium @narina-gnagno @salsedine @whimsyswastry @layalu @n7viper

If you have any questions, don't hesitate in asking!

#tutorials #lineart #inking #digital inking #digital art #tips and tricks #petrel explains #COME LO FECI (cit) #listen if we're mutuals and we chat... ask me to share my screen I don't mind the company when I work if it's not something I can't show #or if it's not too late at night for me #also I unironically like how Alyra inked without variation looks even angrier and more judgemental than normal LOL #also some spoilers for The Last Bacchae if you follow that #“Marmotta” means “Groundhog” in italian #art ref

[babyrdie]

Dionysus

This Dionysus was unexpected for me. I started drawing characters from Greek mythology because of Achilles, who I have on some pages in my sketchbook now. I told myself that I'd better avoid drawing gods because I would become obsessed with perfectionism precisely because I personally think that drawing a human is one thing and drawing a deity is another. But then I read The Bacchae (Euripides) and the Homeric Hymns to Dionysus and…well, it was stronger than me. Dionysus was simply more charismatic than I am determined in my promises to myself.

Something is going on with his face or hair that's still bothering me. I don't know what it's, but there is something. So I don't doubt that, if I were to draw Dionysus again, I would change the design a little (I think it's the shape of the face or the eyes…). But I think it's one of the best drawings I've done in the last few months after spending so much time with artblock…

REFERENCES:

Dionysus was associated with the leopard, bull (and Euripides also describes Dionysus with horns in The Bacchae in one or two passages) and snakes (Euripides, in the same play, also associates him with them).

Dionysus and the Maenads are often portrayed wearing an ivy crown. Additionally, I also saw several statues of Dionysus with grapes either directly in their hair or attached to that crown.

Himation + leopard + ivy crown: 1

Leopard + ivy crown: 2

Snake (natrix natrix): 3

Other: 4

#Dionysus #Dionísio #Greek Gods #Greek Mythology #Tagamemnon #IK #Digital Art #Illustration

[beatingdrumspouringwine]

MFA Dionysos Photo Dump + Chat!

As was promised so many days ago, here's a photo dump from my trip to the MFA Boston last Thursday! The amount of stuff they have on Dionysos is actually incredible, and as I said in my initial post, I would really recommend visiting if you ever find yourself in New England/near Boston :)

Also, just a fair warning, this is going to be a pretty long post - prepare thy selves!

To start, I would like to let everyone know that they did put Dionysos on a coin, in case you were worried (coins aren't a big thing for me, but I thought this was kind of cool)

Next, we have this vase featuring Dionysos and two satyrs! I love the relaxed pose of Dionysos, who's holding a drinking horn in His hand

This vase here features Dionysos in a vineyard. I find it pretty interesting that He seems to be depicted with a beard more on the vases than on His statues, although that seems to be a maybe more common theme with all the Gods? Would love if someone knew why this happens!

Another interesting vase, this one depicting the worship of Dionysos. This is probably one of the reasons that I love art history so much - we can get a much more precise picture of what the past was like through the art than the writing, IMO. If ever I find myself either A. immensely rich or B. with a group of super talented friends, I would love to recreate this. I forget which festival this was, although my guess is Anthesteria.

Moving on to the statuary - this depicts Dionysos and a Maenad, in the act of sharing wine (specifically from the Maenad to Dionysos). Although the arm is broken off, the jug "hanging" from the Maenad's hip is a wine jug, which it seems is actually being prepared to be poured into Dionysos' drinking cup. This is definitely a scene I'm planning on keeping in mind for future ritual - the idea of giving to Dionysos as if He were standing in the room, holding His cup out for wine.

This is one of my favorites - a head of Dionysos (called Bacchus, because it's of Roman make). When you're there in person, His eyes are just about at eye level, and there's something incredibly powerful about looking almost directly into the eyes of your God. This is usually where I stop and do my prayers to Dionysos, since the statue gives such a feeling of connection!

This is a Roman sarcophagus depicting Dionysos' triumphal return from India. I feel like He gets a bit lost in the chaos, but the vibes on this coffin are immaculate! The chaos on the coffin is really fun, with Hercules is at the front, drunk after having lost to Dionysos in a drinking contest. This whole thing definitely fits the mythological timeline's vibes well, since, if I remember correctly, this is the starting point of His conquest that leads Him to the kingdom of Thebes in the Bacchae.

This ceiling painting by John Singer Sargeant is definitely a different depiction of Dionysos than how I see Him, but it's meant to be an homage to Dionysos as the God of the theater (I believe), and it definitely gives off those vibes. Also, the pose that He's making is really fitting!

This one's a bit blurry, my apologies! This depicts the moment that Dionysos finds Ariadne on the shores of Naxos, and just before He throws Her crown into the sky. I'm not the biggest fan of this particular style of painting, and as far as I can tell, there's no real reason for me to dislike it. But to give credit where credit is due, I feel like Dionysos finding Ariadne is a severely underrepresented theme in art, and I do appreciate the artist for actually making a piece on it. The story of the two of Them is probably one of my favorites, and I think about it at least once a day :)

Final one! This statue is actually a lot smaller than it looks, and a 17th or 18th century recarving of a different Roman work. This is Dionysos and Ariadne, originally a satyr and a maenad. I love how there seems to be a sense that They both see each other as equals - both in the similar position of the hands in front, the looks on Their faces, and also (not pictured here) Ariadne's hand on the back, which is resting pretty close to Dionysos' butt, in a playfully loving manner. Everything about this seems to speak to a relationship founded on love, equality, and ease. It definitely captures at least Dionysos' vibes - I haven't prayed to Ariadne much, but I feel that it must capture Her vibes as well :)

TL;DR: Art is cool, museums are cool, go while you're still a student and getting into places for free, and praise Dionysos (obviously)!

#dionysos #dionysian #dionysus #dionysos deity #dionysus deity #ariadne #ariadne deity #hellenic polytheism #hellenic polytheist #hellenic pagan #hellenic gods #hellenism #paganblr

[mindful-of-ideas]

“How about a play,” you asked.

“A play?” the Doctor said.

“Yeah, like theatre. I like theatre!”

“Sure, but theatre’s history is long. Shakespeare, Tennessee Williams, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Plautus, Albert Camus… when do you want to go?”

“Surprise me!”

“Surprise you,” the Doctor said, suddenly standing still, like he was in disbelief, “Well, hang on to something.”

You barely had time to get ahold of the railing before the TARDIS launched you forward.

You had been travelling with the Doctor for a few days now, and you already felt at home. Yes, this had been the most dangerous thing you had ever done, but it was also the most thrilling thing.

Soon enough, the Tardis landed and you regained your footing.

“So, where are we?” you asked.

“Go ahead and find out.”

You opened the TARDIS’ door to one of the most unique views you ever witnessed. The TARDIS had landed right by what seemed to be a fortress wall. You were so high in the sky that it felt like being at the very top of the world. The city below your feet didn’t give much information about where or when you were. You turned around trying to find some clue when you saw it. The Parthenon. Your heart skipped a beat. This was what you had been studying for the past year at university. And it was there, complete, in all its glory. The outside columns were all standing tall and followed the Doric canon in their number. And the metopes, oh the metopes they were all there, completely intact. From where you were standing, you could make out the scenes from the fight between the Centaurs and the Lapiths. You had to see the other sides, the ones that were destroyed. How did they represent the Trojan war on there? Or even the Amazonomachy?

“Care to take a guess,” the Doctor said, bending over your shoulder and cutting short your daydreaming

“Ancient Greece? Maybe Athens?”

“Precisely!”

He seemed so excited. You knew he was probably dying to show off what he knew and explain it in details to you. That’s what he always did, and you loved it. Seeing someone be so passionate about something they seemingly care about always brought a smile to your face. That’s why you loved school. And learning, learning is just so fun when it comes from the right person. Looking at him now, you knew it would break his heart a little if you told him you already knew a lot about this place. Still, there was one thing you couldn’t really guess.

“And when exactly?” you finally asked.

“Well… you know the Ancient times of Greece…”

“But like, month, year?”

The Doctor put on his sunglasses and turned three times on himself. He then suddenly dropped to his knees. You were sure he was about to lick the ground, as he had done already twice since you met him, but he looked like he was only listening very carefully.

“What are you…” you started.

“Shhhh! You’ll mess it up!”

He got back up and picked a fruit from the basket of an Athenian who was walking by.

“I’d say end of march, maybe begin of April, 405 before,” he said, throwing the fruit your way, “Well, that is based on our Gregorian calendar.”

“How did you know?” you said, barely catching the fruit.

He had a really shitty aim.

“Educated guess,” he said, “Oh and everyone is excited to see Euripides last tragedy. Should we get going?”

“We’re going to see The Bacchae?”

“Oh yes, he’s amazing, you’ll see.”

Together, you walked down to the Theatre of Dionysus. You couldn’t believe it. You were here, walking in Athens in Ancient Greece. A place you studied and loved for so long. You dreamt of going to Athens, the modern one that is, this couldn’t possibly be real.

You finally sat down, almost centred with the orchestra.

“How did you know it was The Bacchae?” the Doctor asked.

“Educated guess?”

“Right! So you see this place in the middle, it’s called the orchestra. This is where the chorus is going to stay for the entirety of the play. You see, once they’re on stage they never leave. They’ll get here by walking through the eisodos, well eisodoi, it’s plural, it’s those little passageways on each side.

You nodded and smiled as he said all that. Of course you already knew it, but he looked so happy.

“And right at the back, that building with the doors, is the skené, where the actors basically go and change costumes.”

“Well, it’s a bit more than that, but go on.

“And so you see tragedies are always presented in groups of three… wait, what did you just say?”

“No-nothing, go on. I’m listening,” you said.

You didn’t even notice that you had cut him off. You saw his smile fade away as you looked down embarrassed.

“Do you know about this?” he asked.

“You can keep explaining, I won’t cut you off again.”

“That’s not my question Y/N, if you already knew everything I explained, why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because you’re always excited to talk about stuff you know and to explain it to me. I didn’t want to… to take that away from you,” you said, looking back at him, “And you seem happy when that happens… you rarely seem happy…”

“Oh… Y/N… I’m… you’re right, I love explaining things to you because I see how much YOU love it. You can explain it, it will make me just as happy.”

You looked at him, smiling softly. You knew this wasn’t true. You knew you could never make him truly happy. Something or someone tore a hole in his heart a long time ago and there was nothing you could do to fix it. No way you could patch it up, but you could always try to ease the pain.

“Right,” you said, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, please,” he said, putting a protective arm around you as more people were coming in, “I promise this trip will be just as fun if you do the explaining and I do the listening.”

You grabbed the front of his jacket. People around you were now pushing, trying to find a seat.

“You’re sure you’ll be fine, only listening?” you asked.

“Yeah, yeah don’t even worry a little bit.” he said, smiling at you, “And Y/N don’t ever compromise who you are for me. You’re one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. You don’t have to change who you are for anyone else.”

“I’ll try…”

“Thank you. Now, where did I go wrong?”

“Okay, so you see the skené is actually part of the play, it’s basically the backdrop. It tells us where we are and most importantly when the actors enter the skené, where they go. Because, yes they change costumes, but sometimes they leave because their character is doing something inside the palace for example. Most of the time, it’s dying because no deaths are represented on stage. Also, tragedies actually come in a group of four because the author also writes a satyr play. And we are so lucky to see The Bacchae! We rarely have a god as the protagonist, so this is exceptional but also you could say that at the end of the play when…”

“Maybe don’t spoil it for the people around,” the Doctor whispered, as the first tragedy was about to start, “we can talk plenty after.”

#mindful-of-ideas #doctor who imagine #twelfth doctor imagine #12th doctor imagine #doctor who #twelfth doctor #12th doctor #classics #classical studies #ancient greece