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[dionysia-ta-astika]

The winners of this year's City Dionysia are now revealed! Thank you everyone for your hard work and dedication!

✒ For the Poetry category:

Savage & Free by @khaire-traveler

✒ For the Art category:

Untitled by @vdoes

✒ For the Retellings category:

Sparagmos (or Euripides, Eat Your Heart Out) by @delirpa

✒ and, finally, for the Original Myth category:

"Apothnesko and the Psychopomp" by @hillbillyoracle

Congratulations to our winners!

Continue writing and sharing your work with the world and the gods. Thank you again for your participation, and we look forward to seeing next time!

[dionysia-ta-astika]

Time to Vote!

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to submit their work for this 2024 edition of the City Dionysia! The link to vote is at the end of this post. You have until March 18th 11:59pm PST to submit your vote. The winners will be announced on March 19th.

Poetry

LARPing by @nyxshadowhawk

To Bacchos by @piristephes

I dance... by @scenecoreshrine

I know you with my blood and bones by @silkravensssssss (tw: violence)

Savage & Free by @khaire-traveler (tw: violence, cannibalism)

Art

Thrice-born by @khaire-traveler (tw: skull, blood, wine)

Untitled by @vdoes

Two-horned by @nyuiarantes

Untitled by @silkravensssssss

Retellings

Sparagmos (or Euripides, Eat Your Heart Out) by @delirpa (tw: blood, organs, bacchae, graphic death, violence) l🌿

Original Myth

Apothnesko and the Psychopomp by @hillbillyoracle (cw: death, death of sibling, death of parent, death of partner, death of child, illness) 🌿

Congratulations to @delirpa and @hillbillyoracle for winning the retelling and original myth categories, respectively.

Which leaves us with the poetry and art categories to vote for:

CLICK HERE TO VOTE

[dionysia-ta-astika]

Time to Vote!

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to submit their work for this 2024 edition of the City Dionysia! The link to vote is at the end of this post. You have until March 18th 11:59pm PST to submit your vote. The winners will be announced on March 19th.

Poetry

LARPing by @nyxshadowhawk

To Bacchos by @piristephes

I dance... by @scenecoreshrine

I know you with my blood and bones by @silkravensssssss (tw: violence)

Savage & Free by @khaire-traveler (tw: violence, cannibalism)

Art

Thrice-born by @khaire-traveler (tw: skull, blood, wine)

Untitled by @vdoes

Two-horned by @nyuiarantes

Untitled by @silkravensssssss

Retellings

Sparagmos (or Euripides, Eat Your Heart Out) by @delirpa (tw: blood, organs, bacchae, graphic death, violence) l🌿

Original Myth

Apothnesko and the Psychopomp by @hillbillyoracle (cw: death, death of sibling, death of parent, death of partner, death of child, illness) 🌿

Congratulations to @delirpa and @hillbillyoracle for winning the retelling and original myth categories, respectively.

Which leaves us with the poetry and art categories to vote for:

CLICK HERE TO VOTE

[dionysia-ta-astika]

Time to Vote!

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to submit their work for this 2024 edition of the City Dionysia! The link to vote is at the end of this post. You have until March 18th 11:59pm PST to submit your vote. The winners will be announced on March 19th.

Poetry

LARPing by @nyxshadowhawk

To Bacchos by @piristephes

I dance... by @scenecoreshrine

I know you with my blood and bones by @silkravensssssss (tw: violence)

Savage & Free by @khaire-traveler (tw: violence, cannibalism)

Art

Thrice-born by @khaire-traveler (tw: skull, blood, wine)

Untitled by @vdoes

Two-horned by @nyuiarantes

Untitled by @silkravensssssss

Retellings

Sparagmos (or Euripides, Eat Your Heart Out) by @delirpa (tw: blood, organs, bacchae, graphic death, violence) l🌿

Original Myth

Apothnesko and the Psychopomp by @hillbillyoracle (cw: death, death of sibling, death of parent, death of partner, death of child, illness) 🌿

Congratulations to @delirpa and @hillbillyoracle for winning the retelling and original myth categories, respectively.

Which leaves us with the poetry and art categories to vote for:

CLICK HERE TO VOTE

[dionysia-ta-astika]

The City Dionysia begins now!

About the Festival

The City Dionysia is a yearly festival in honour of Dionysos, Lord of Wine and Theatre. In ancient Athens, it was celebrated with a theatrical competition featuring tragedies, comedies, and satyr plays.

This blog serves to bring this competition into a modern scope by allowing Hellenic polytheists to submit their own creative pieces in honour of Dionysos.

Currently there are no prizes for winning, the competition only aims to be a fun way to bring the City Dionysia to life as a communal event for modern worshippers.

Categories

The categories for this edition are the same as last year, that is:

Retelling of Classic myths

Original myths

Poetry

Art (digital or traditional)

2024 Timeline

Submission openings: February 10th

Submission closing: March 10th

Vote opening: March 11th

Vote closing: March 18th

Winner announcement: March 19th

Rules for submissions

Roleplay and fanfic are not allowed in submissions. This is a religious festival, please respect our faith and do not submit an entry if you are roleplaying or writing fanfiction.

Submissions do not need to revolve specifically around Dionysos, but they must be created in honour of the Hellenic pantheon.

All stories, myths, poems, and art pieces must be entered using the submissions button.

All entries must be tagged for the category they are being submitted to.

Entries must also be tagged for potentially triggering content, squicks, and anything NSFW.

An entry may only be submitted to a single category.

Each person may only submit one entry per category each year.

Participants are the owners of their work and have full rights over their submission. Should a third party be interested in publishing/distributing/using a submission for whatever purpose, permission is to be asked to the original creator of the piece. The admins of this blog have no say in this matter.

Winners for each category will be decided by popular vote.

Happy creating and Io Dionysos!

[dionysia-ta-astika]

Last day to submit your entries!! Submissions will close on March 10th at 11:59pm PST

The City Dionysia begins now!

About the Festival

The City Dionysia is a yearly festival in honour of Dionysos, Lord of Wine and Theatre. In ancient Athens, it was celebrated with a theatrical competition featuring tragedies, comedies, and satyr plays.

This blog serves to bring this competition into a modern scope by allowing Hellenic polytheists to submit their own creative pieces in honour of Dionysos.

Currently there are no prizes for winning, the competition only aims to be a fun way to bring the City Dionysia to life as a communal event for modern worshippers.

Categories

The categories for this edition are the same as last year, that is:

Retelling of Classic myths

Original myths

Poetry

Art (digital or traditional)

2024 Timeline

Submission openings: February 10th

Submission closing: March 10th

Vote opening: March 11th

Vote closing: March 18th

Winner announcement: March 19th

Rules for submissions

Roleplay and fanfic are not allowed in submissions. This is a religious festival, please respect our faith and do not submit an entry if you are roleplaying or writing fanfiction.

Submissions do not need to revolve specifically around Dionysos, but they must be created in honour of the Hellenic pantheon.

All stories, myths, poems, and art pieces must be entered using the submissions button.

All entries must be tagged for the category they are being submitted to.

Entries must also be tagged for potentially triggering content, squicks, and anything NSFW.

An entry may only be submitted to a single category.

Each person may only submit one entry per category each year.

Participants are the owners of their work and have full rights over their submission. Should a third party be interested in publishing/distributing/using a submission for whatever purpose, permission is to be asked to the original creator of the piece. The admins of this blog have no say in this matter.

Winners for each category will be decided by popular vote.

Happy creating and Io Dionysos!

[dionysia-ta-astika]

3 days away!

The City Dionysia begins now!

About the Festival

The City Dionysia is a yearly festival in honour of Dionysos, Lord of Wine and Theatre. In ancient Athens, it was celebrated with a theatrical competition featuring tragedies, comedies, and satyr plays.

This blog serves to bring this competition into a modern scope by allowing Hellenic polytheists to submit their own creative pieces in honour of Dionysos.

Currently there are no prizes for winning, the competition only aims to be a fun way to bring the City Dionysia to life as a communal event for modern worshippers.

Categories

The categories for this edition are the same as last year, that is:

Retelling of Classic myths

Original myths

Poetry

Art (digital or traditional)

2024 Timeline

Submission openings: February 10th

Submission closing: March 10th

Vote opening: March 11th

Vote closing: March 18th

Winner announcement: March 19th

Rules for submissions

Roleplay and fanfic are not allowed in submissions. This is a religious festival, please respect our faith and do not submit an entry if you are roleplaying or writing fanfiction.

Submissions do not need to revolve specifically around Dionysos, but they must be created in honour of the Hellenic pantheon.

All stories, myths, poems, and art pieces must be entered using the submissions button.

All entries must be tagged for the category they are being submitted to.

Entries must also be tagged for potentially triggering content, squicks, and anything NSFW.

An entry may only be submitted to a single category.

Each person may only submit one entry per category each year.

Participants are the owners of their work and have full rights over their submission. Should a third party be interested in publishing/distributing/using a submission for whatever purpose, permission is to be asked to the original creator of the piece. The admins of this blog have no say in this matter.

Winners for each category will be decided by popular vote.

Happy creating and Io Dionysos!

[dionysia-ta-astika]

Savage & Free

~ * ~

With bovine horns dipped in gold,

The  Marble-Eater crushes the columns,

Of establishment and reason,

He dances and sings atop the rubble;

With obsidian claws sharper than the mind,

The Liberator rips and tears into the flesh,

Of the authoritative and self-righteous,

Blood pours down his chin as he laughs;

With arms outspread in whole acceptance,

The Savior welcomes the Outcasted,

The beaten, the broken, the shunned,

He encourages their oddities and quirks;

With a leopard-faced mask and scandalous dress,

The Shameless strides through the streets,

Capturing eyes as if under a spotlight;

An irresistible charm hangs about him;

With an intricately crafted crown of flowers,

The Blooming plants renewal in the air,

Embracing the thaw in his veins,

Flowers sprout from each of his footsteps; 

With a cloak made from shooting stars,

The Nightly thrashes, lashes, and prances,

From dusk til dawn, never sleeping,

The constellations move to spell out his name;

With flames flickering at his feet,

The Fire-born heightens the blaze,

Of passion, of devotion, of frenzy,

The eternal fire within him never dies.

With a black goat’s skin draped gracefully over his shoulder,

The He-goat bleats out a roaring, inhuman scream,

Of madness, of ecstasy, of hunger,

His feet appear more hoof-like than before;

With a key that opens every lock,

The Unshackled breaks the bonds that restrict us,

Dropping the chains at our feet,

“Your freedom is yours.” 

~ * ~

🥂🍇

~ * ~

@khaire-traveler

[dionysia-ta-astika]

TW: blood, organs, bacchae

Sparagmos (or Euripides, Eat Your Heart Out)

A wall was built slipshod upon

the bones and ashes

of the lessons that those old Greeks failed to learn.

And bloodied teeth were planted in a field,

springing up cadmium red and spartan strong-

Cadmus himself a stone’s throw away and eight feet deep

in soldier’s tongues and oxblood promises.

Then Thebes stood naked,

quivering out the ruins of the day

while Pentheus watched,

testing out the steel toe tip of his

stiletto heeled hypocrisies.

His mother broke the skull of

the god-eyed beast

with her thorny staff that will

soon enough break his own

and carry it aloft-

His head paraded,

staring through the streets.

For now,

He watches the moon set behind the hills

like a goblet dipping into wine.

Thinking on the the line of his mother,

his mother’s mother-

Noble, strong, and raw as the soil-

Ran trilling towards wild hills.

Running naked

With leaves in their uncombed hair

To break and tear and rend-

the wild goats and boar and men-

To reach their soft women’s hands into the hot blood

To draw out the clayborn entrails and read them as runes

Wild haruspicy witnessing

the grape vine lines drawn between palm and eye

And rejoicing of it all in the feast-

And the wine and the blood.

[dionysia-ta-astika]

Last week to submit an entry! Submissions close on March 10!

The City Dionysia begins now!

About the Festival

The City Dionysia is a yearly festival in honour of Dionysos, Lord of Wine and Theatre. In ancient Athens, it was celebrated with a theatrical competition featuring tragedies, comedies, and satyr plays.

This blog serves to bring this competition into a modern scope by allowing Hellenic polytheists to submit their own creative pieces in honour of Dionysos.

Currently there are no prizes for winning, the competition only aims to be a fun way to bring the City Dionysia to life as a communal event for modern worshippers.

Categories

The categories for this edition are the same as last year, that is:

Retelling of Classic myths

Original myths

Poetry

Art (digital or traditional)

2024 Timeline

Submission openings: February 10th

Submission closing: March 10th

Vote opening: March 11th

Vote closing: March 18th

Winner announcement: March 19th

Rules for submissions

Roleplay and fanfic are not allowed in submissions. This is a religious festival, please respect our faith and do not submit an entry if you are roleplaying or writing fanfiction.

Submissions do not need to revolve specifically around Dionysos, but they must be created in honour of the Hellenic pantheon.

All stories, myths, poems, and art pieces must be entered using the submissions button.

All entries must be tagged for the category they are being submitted to.

Entries must also be tagged for potentially triggering content, squicks, and anything NSFW.

An entry may only be submitted to a single category.

Each person may only submit one entry per category each year.

Participants are the owners of their work and have full rights over their submission. Should a third party be interested in publishing/distributing/using a submission for whatever purpose, permission is to be asked to the original creator of the piece. The admins of this blog have no say in this matter.

Winners for each category will be decided by popular vote.

Happy creating and Io Dionysos!

[dionysia-ta-astika]

[dionysia-ta-astika]

I know you with my blood and bones

I feel you in my madness 

I smell your sour sweetness as I dance

I know you with my heart and soul

I feel you in my sadness 

I taste my tears and pull my hair 

I know you're there

Feel you ripping at my heart 

You cut me open 

Bleed me out 

Let ivy fill my veins

Let flowers fade

I'm coughing up the petals 

Let me die so I will live again 

A beginning through an end 

Let me fall and shatter 

May the story never end 

[dionysia-ta-astika]

Apothnesko and the Psychopomp

CW: death, death of sibling, death of parent, death of partner, death of child, illness

Apothnesko awakes to crying. In the dim light of the moon through the window, he makes out the lank childish frame of his older brother Neos sobbing into the arms of a man he’s never seen before. Dressed in the dark garb of a traveler, the man gets to his knees to console the young boy, patting his back and murmuring to him that it is alright to be upset, it is normal. This all is very normal.

Upset to see his brother in such a state, Apothnesko rises to his feet and reaches out to him but his fingers meet cold air where he once would have met warm skin. Horrified, he grabs the post of his bed to steady himself and stares wild eyed at the intruder.

“It is okay,” says the man, “Your brother has died. I’ve come to collect him. He will not be lost.”

“You’ve killed him?” Apothnesko asks, recoiling.

“No, he was ill and his body can no longer house his spirit. I will take him to his new home,” the man clarified, standing up and grabbing a staff carved with twinning snakes he’d leaned upon the wall. He slipped his hand into that of Neos and helped him take a few steps toward the door, never urgent, never impatient. The boy looked to Apothnesko but seemed unable to speak through his grief.

“Wait,” Apothnesko cried, hoping to delay them, desperate for even a moment longer with his brother, “Are you Death?”

The man smiled. “I travel to it often,” he said, gently, “I am it’s familiar friend and servant.”

“Please, tell me sir, how may I live long?” asked Apothnesko.

“I have no way to ensure that,” said the man, motioning to the boy’s brother who was leaning on him as he spoke.

“Then tell me how may I die well?”

The man took the boy’s face in his hand, his own expression soft and deeply, wonderfully kind. “Know that you are very mortal and that very much matters.”

With that, the man turned on the heels of his winged sandals and guided Neos out.

—

Now the sole heir to their family’s small city state, Apothnesko throws himself into his studies. He spends his mornings being trained in several different weapons by his father’s guards. His afternoons are spent deep in discussion with his many tutors on topics of science, strategy, and diplomacy. Every evening is spent with his father Geronto as he tells stories of his many accomplishments and failures. Every moment of his day, he remains committed to learning everything he can. Skill, he thinks must be key to a long and happy life.

One day, an army arrives at the city’s gates. His father and the diplomats dispatch messages to try to negotiate for peace but the army’s leader will not be swayed from taking the city and enslaving it’s citizens. Their defenders ready themselves. Apothnesko, dutiful as ever, is close to his father’s side. He is given command of his own unit of men. Together they descend upon their enemy.

The clash is fierce. Men are struck, some immediately silent and others crying out through the maelstrom of human misery. After the initial clash, Apothnesko regroups his men, finding mounts for them as he is able. He retreats to a hill and commands them to attack the enemy at an angle. Together, they force the attacking lines apart and scatter the remaining army.

As he sees them retreating, he turns to his father to share in this victory but he is no where to be found. Desperately, he searches the field for hours, finally finding his father collapsed in front of the city gate where he fought off a group he’d spotted trying to sneak in. Apothnesko drops to his knees beside him. He scarcely notices a familiar figure in a dark cloak and hat as he approaches and plants his carved staff in the ground beside Geronto.

“It is okay,” says the familiar man, bending to look over Geronto’s body, “Your father has died. I’ve come to collect him. He will not be lost.”

“I have lost him,” Apothnesko says, his head in his hands now, “I am lost without him.”

“The important parts of him are still with you even now,” the man reassures him, taking Geronto’s hand and helping his spirit to his feet.

Seeing the man beginning to take his father from him sends Apothnesko back into his battle rage. He grabs the dagger still strapped to his waist and points it at the cloaked man’s neck.

“Tell me, what right do you have to take this man who has lived so nobly and always for the benefit of others?” said Apothnesko, furious.

“I have no right only a duty,” said the man, smiling gently and motioning to his staff, “Same as you.”

Apothnesko’s shoulders went slack at this. The dagger falls from his limp hand and clatters on the stone pavement below. He looks up and asks, “Then tell me how may I die well?”

The man picks up the dagger and places it back in it’s sheath, his expression soft and deeply, wonderfully kind. “Know that you are very mortal and that very much matters.”

With that, the man turned on the heels of his winged sandals and guided Geronto out.

—

Apothnesko ascends to his father’s throne. He is married to the princess of an allied city state, an arrangement made by his father before his death. The couple are kind to one another and perform their roles well, though there is little real affection between them. Together they rebuild and revive their polis; it’s walls higher and it’s buildings far grander than those in the age of his father. And yet there are still days where his grief pins him to his bed and scarcely lets him leave. No accomplishment, no act of grandeur lifts him.

Desperate to raise his spirits, his wife introduces her husband to a young man named Eros. He is handsome and intelligent but mostly he is kind in a way that reaches Apothnesko in a way his wife’s dutiful assistance cannot. His humor and levity helps the king to feel renewed. Their friendship blossoms into romance and the pair become inseparable. Their days are spent entirely in each other’s company. The young king once again feels purpose and urgency, rising each morning thinking only of what adventure he will embark on with his treasured lover. Love, he thinks, must be key to a long and happy life.

During a great city festival, Eros takes the lead in the great hunt. He is outfitted with the finest gear the polis can offer and he and a company of men set out to bring back that night’s feast. Apothnesko attends to his many ceremonies but always ever has an eye on the gate his lover left through, excited and ready to great him upon his return.

It is close to dusk when the party is spotted, a figure clearly being carried between some of the men. Apothnesko’s heart sinks as they come into view. Eros is limp in the arms of his fellow hunters, bloodied almost beyond recognition. The king rushes to his lover’s side and demands they call the healers. But the hunters insist it is too late, there is nothing left to be done. They withdrawal to let the king mourn.

Night falls and he cannot bring himself to leave Eros, cradling him and stroking his hair. The shadows of the olive trees embracing them both. He feels a warm hand on his shoulder and does not look up.

“It is okay,” says a familiar voice, “Your lover has died. I’ve come to collect him. He will not be lost.”

“I cannot afford to lose him,” says Apothnesko, clutching at his lover’s body, limp but still warm in his arms. “We aren’t done creating the life we promised to each other.”

“Promises are tricky things,” says the Man, taking the hand of Eros and easing his spirit to his feet.

“Tell me, what can I give you to let me keep this man with me even but even for a few hours longer?” pleads Apothnesko, shuffling through his pouches on his waist and drawing out a few gold coins.

“I have no room nor need of gifts,” said the man, smiling gently and motioning to his belt, clearly bereft of pouches.

Apothnesko nods, the gold spilling from his hand and onto the ground. Tears stream down his face as he asks, “Then tell me how may I die well?”

“Know that you are very mortal and that very much matters.”

With that, the man turned on the heels of his winged sandals and guided Eros out.

—

Apothnesko does not leave his room for many weeks. No one can get him to come from his bed chamber and the servants notice he is eating very little of the meals they bring him. His wife and the family of Eros both beg him to return to his duties but he refuses. There is worry despair might claim him.

That is until he hears a child’s cry in the palace. His wife has given birth to a son. He rushes to be by her side and smiles for the first time in months when handled the infant child. At last an heir, a child to secure their many advancements and bring up in the ways his father brought him. His son can carry their traditions on so that they far out live any one of them. Legacy, he thinks, must be key to a long and happy life.

The physician returns to the couple with a worried look. He explains the child appears to be sick and he is unsure how long they may have with him. Apothnesko’s wife clutches the child to her and refuses to let it from her sight. That night they all sleep together, the child asleep on his mother’s chest while Apothnesko kept watch.

Deep in the night, he hears a man with a walking staff enter the room and looks up. The man smiles softly from across the room, walking slowly to toward the bed. His dark hat and cloak the same as ever.

“It is okay,” says the familiar man, “Your son has died. I’ve come to collect him. He will not be lost.”

“If you take him from me I will have lost everything. There is no life without him, no polis, no hope,” he says, his voice flat.

“Everything that is done must be undone,” says the man, nodding solemnly.

“Then what is the point of doing anything?” asks the king, numb, “If everything comes to ruin, why do anything, love anything at all?”

“Doing nothing won’t prevent this,” says the man, cradling the child tenderly, “Doing something won’t either. But the story you tell is up to you.”

“Then tell me how to bring about a good ending,” says Apothnesko, “Tell me how may I die well?”

The man smiles knowingly, his face soft and deeply, wonderfully kind. “Know that you are very mortal and that very much matters.”

With that, the man turned on the heels of his winged sandals and guided the child out.

—

Apothnesko and his wife grieve their child. She decides she cannot have another and they select the king’s nephew as heir. At first, Apothnesko is nervous to teach the boy, knowing that at any moment the strange traveler may come to collect him. But he thinks of his father, he is generous with his knowledge, teaching him all he knows. When he thinks of his lover, he delights in sharing joy with the boy. When reminded of his son, he tells him stories to pass on.

Together, they see their city through many bountiful and troubled times. When a crop is particularly abundant, they celebrate with a festival for the entire city. When they hear of those who’ve lost their loved ones, they go to them and grieve as if their sorrow were their own.

As the boy approaches adulthood, Apothnesko begins to grow weary. His strength begins to leave him and he give more and more of his duties to his heir. One day, he grows ill and takes to his bed. The city is saddened by this news. Many send word of their love and admiration for the king that not only saved them but lived alongside them. His nephew goes to keep watch over him through the nights, determined he will not pass alone.

It’s the early hours of one morning that Apothnesko feels a hand on his shoulder, waking him with a start.

“It is okay,” says the familiar voice, “You have died. I’ve come to collect you. You will not be lost.”

“At last,” says the old king’s spirit, smiling, “Friend of my friends, loved of my beloveds - how great to see you again.”

His spirit rises up to greet the man and takes his hand. His nephew smiles, recognizing the man from the kings many stories.

“You saved our city and survived great loss,” says his nephew, “You rebuilt our home and united our people. Before you leave, please tell me what allowed you to live such a great life?”

Apothnesko turns to his nephew, his expression soft and deeply wonderfully kind. “Know that you are very mortal and that very much matters.”

With that, Apothnesko turned on his heel followed his old friend out.

[dionysia-ta-astika]

I dance

I dance until

My hair grows wilder

My muscles achee

My drool drools hit the ground in drops

My arms fling to and fro

I do not dance Alone

He dances too

Flame flickers

Hips swinging

Hair whipping

Finger twitching

Dancing with me

I kick I swirl I jump

In a haze

I barely register the songhymn

In this religious ecstasy

Fire flickers to and fro

With me

Brown curls jump with brown curls

He grabs me assaulting

My senses with the scent of wine

We spin together, happy

Until the song ends

Until the flame dies out

[dionysia-ta-astika]

The City Dionysia begins now!

About the Festival

The City Dionysia is a yearly festival in honour of Dionysos, Lord of Wine and Theatre. In ancient Athens, it was celebrated with a theatrical competition featuring tragedies, comedies, and satyr plays.

This blog serves to bring this competition into a modern scope by allowing Hellenic polytheists to submit their own creative pieces in honour of Dionysos.

Currently there are no prizes for winning, the competition only aims to be a fun way to bring the City Dionysia to life as a communal event for modern worshippers.

Categories

The categories for this edition are the same as last year, that is:

Retelling of Classic myths

Original myths

Poetry

Art (digital or traditional)

2024 Timeline

Submission openings: February 10th

Submission closing: March 10th

Vote opening: March 11th

Vote closing: March 18th

Winner announcement: March 19th

Rules for submissions

Roleplay and fanfic are not allowed in submissions. This is a religious festival, please respect our faith and do not submit an entry if you are roleplaying or writing fanfiction.

Submissions do not need to revolve specifically around Dionysos, but they must be created in honour of the Hellenic pantheon.

All stories, myths, poems, and art pieces must be entered using the submissions button.

All entries must be tagged for the category they are being submitted to.

Entries must also be tagged for potentially triggering content, squicks, and anything NSFW.

An entry may only be submitted to a single category.

Each person may only submit one entry per category each year.

Participants are the owners of their work and have full rights over their submission. Should a third party be interested in publishing/distributing/using a submission for whatever purpose, permission is to be asked to the original creator of the piece. The admins of this blog have no say in this matter.

Winners for each category will be decided by popular vote.

Happy creating and Io Dionysos!

[dionysia-ta-astika]

Two-horned

[dionysia-ta-astika]

The City Dionysia begins now!

About the Festival

The City Dionysia is a yearly festival in honour of Dionysos, Lord of Wine and Theatre. In ancient Athens, it was celebrated with a theatrical competition featuring tragedies, comedies, and satyr plays.

This blog serves to bring this competition into a modern scope by allowing Hellenic polytheists to submit their own creative pieces in honour of Dionysos.

Currently there are no prizes for winning, the competition only aims to be a fun way to bring the City Dionysia to life as a communal event for modern worshippers.

Categories

The categories for this edition are the same as last year, that is:

Retelling of Classic myths

Original myths

Poetry

Art (digital or traditional)

2024 Timeline

Submission openings: February 10th

Submission closing: March 10th

Vote opening: March 11th

Vote closing: March 18th

Winner announcement: March 19th

Rules for submissions

Roleplay and fanfic are not allowed in submissions. This is a religious festival, please respect our faith and do not submit an entry if you are roleplaying or writing fanfiction.

Submissions do not need to revolve specifically around Dionysos, but they must be created in honour of the Hellenic pantheon.

All stories, myths, poems, and art pieces must be entered using the submissions button.

All entries must be tagged for the category they are being submitted to.

Entries must also be tagged for potentially triggering content, squicks, and anything NSFW.

An entry may only be submitted to a single category.

Each person may only submit one entry per category each year.

Participants are the owners of their work and have full rights over their submission. Should a third party be interested in publishing/distributing/using a submission for whatever purpose, permission is to be asked to the original creator of the piece. The admins of this blog have no say in this matter.

Winners for each category will be decided by popular vote.

Happy creating and Io Dionysos!