#Atlas Farnese

[fabiansteinhauer]

Der Zettel von 1896

Was 1896 anfängt, kommt 1929 zum Schluss.

Was u.a. mit den Notizen von einer kleinen Seereise, die der Kunsthistoriker Warburg mit dem Juristen Melchior unternimmt aufgeworfen wird, summiert sich auf den Staatstafeln. Für das Verständnis der Staatstafeln ist schon der Anfang der sonderbaren Bild- und Rechtswissenschaft wichtig. Die Notizen von den Gesprächen mit Melchior stehen in einem engen räumlichen, zeitlichen und auch dichten, sinnvollen Zusammenhang mit dem Zettel von 1896. Meine These lautet, das Aby Warburgs kurfristige Beschäftigung mit der mancipatio, der Art Pathosformel des römischen Rechts, der Zettel von 1896 und schließlich die Staatstafeln nicht nur alle die "Suche nach der Causa" (Warburg, 1923) betreiben und diese Suche als Bildgebung, als Symbolisierung, als Distanzschaffen und Verhältnis, besser gesagt als Verhalten zwischen S und O (also auch Subjekt und Objekt) angehen. Die dienen auch alle der 'Polarforschung', also einer Beschäftigung mit Polarität. Polarforschung produziert Wissen im Wege der Aussetzung, sie operiert dabei selbst elliptisch: sprunghaft kreisend, sprunghaft ' fagierend'.

Warburg stellt auf dem Zettel von 1896 erst die Lage des Atlas, dann die Lage der Fortuna nach: Erst trägt S O, dann steht S auf O. Die letzte Zeile setzt beide Figuren ineinander, blendet sie übereinander. Warburg notiert dazu in der letzten Zeile u.a.: "sich mit dem Perpendikel identifizieren". Ob das ein Rat, ein (Gefahren-)Hinweis, eine Aufhebung oder Lösung ist, das ist fraglich, es könnte wieder eine Meditation, eine Übung sein.

Der Atlas hat, wie Thomas Melle sagt, die Welt im Rücken, er greift sie im Rücken, also am Ort seines Rückens und er greift sie in dem Moment, in dem sie schon und immer noch im Rücken begriffen ist, in einem einem bedrängenden Auf- und Verrücken. Der Atlas greift die Welt auch in ihrem Rücken, das ihre Bewegung ist. Sein Greifen greift zwar, aber die Unbeständigkeit.

Der Atlas Farnese übersetzt dabei die Unbeständigkeit (die nicht bestandslos, immer aber bestandsfrei ist) in die Sterne, er stellt sie in die Sterne und dann steht sie nicht in den Sternen, sie dreht und wendet sich dort, kippt wie eine Ellipse an Scheitelpunkten, die für Richtungen und Züge auch Scheiterpunkte sind, wie es das Fest von São João, wie es Mittsommernacht ist. Bis dahin werden die Tage länger, danach kürzer oder aber bis dahin kürzer und ab da länger.

Fortuna, Fortuna: der Monogrammist HC sticht sie 1534 so, dass wir sagen würden, sie sei eine Kreuzung oder ein Hybrid (was wiederum paradoxerweise heißt, dass wir nur eine bestimmte Seite darin sehen). Das Blatt trägt im Metropolitain Museum den Titel: Allegorie der Fortuna und Justitia. Auf dem Blatt selber ist geschrieben, sie werden Glück der Gerechtigkeit genannt, ihr 'Verhalten' wird dort auch als Begehren beschrieben. Sie steht auf dem Globus, den der Atlas trägt (in beiden Fällen sind die Konstellationen, die Sternbilder sichtbar); an ihr hängen diesmal zwei von solchen Leuten, wie man sie haufenweise in London trifft: zwei, die glauben, sie würden eher ihr Fortune als ihre Causa suchen und dabei ist das zwar nicht eins, aber eine Übersetzung. Der eine gerät gerade über die Räder, der andere unter die Räder, besser gesagt: der eine gerät über, der andere unter das Polobjekt, den drehenden Globus. Wie die Melancholie zu dieser Zeit nicht nur die Depression, sondern auch die Manie umfasst, so umfasst die Fortuna zu dieser Seite beide Seiten. Man hat Fortuna, wenn man sich gerade die Taschen voll macht und Fortuna, wenn man verunfällt. Das ist Unbeständigkeit, in ihr kommt Bestand vor, der aber homogene und heterogene Element mit sich führt und dessen Maße zwar immer messbar, nie aber feststellbar, parkbar und einrastbar sind. Wie ein Bewegtbild gibt auch die Unterscheidung zwischen Statik und Dynamik wenig Trost, wenn die Unbeständigkeit einen bedrängt. Man kann die Unbeständigkeit also nicht einfach als Dynamik eines Bestandes erklären, als etwas, was gerade seine Statik abgestriffen hätte wie einen gestärkten Bademantel vor der Badewanne.

Fortuna steht auf einem Polobjekt in einer meteorologischen Szene, da sind dazu noch vage Objekte um sie herum (das Polobjekt Globus ist ja schon vage, aber die Wellen tragen in manchen Sprachen sogar ihren Namen von der Vagheit). Natürlich verschlingen die Wellen ein Schiff, kurz vor dem Hafen einer Stadt, die nicht unbedingt die Hauptstadt der Schiffbrüchigen (also nicht unbedingt Recife), aber schon eine Stadt der Schiffbrüchigen sein muss. Der Zettel von 1896 ist der Zettel eines Polarforschers, eines Forschers, der, wie Warburg 1923 aus Anlaß eines Vortrags von Alfred Doren über die Fortuna schreibt, sich mit der "Suche nach der Causa" befasst" als einer Produktion von Wissen, die nicht unbedingt etwas von festen Boden unter den Füßen wissen will. Diese Produktion von Wissen will aber schon etwas von Gründen und sogar von dem 'Bodensatz vom Grund", von der sedimentären Geschichten der Rationalität wissen. 1896, als Warburg an seinen intensiven Ratgeber und Resonanzkasten Ruben schreibt und versucht, seine kommende Forschung zu erklären, also jene Forschung, die ihn aus einer anthropologischen Erfahrung heraus vom Dogma der großen Trennung wegtreibt, da wird deutlich, dass das mit der Unbeständigkeit zu tun hat, die sich nicht nur als unbeständige Grenze zwischen Subjekt und Objekt äußert, sondern auch als Unbeständigkeit der Maße, mit denen man aktiv und/ oder passiv ist. Es ist immer wieder so: Warburg will Rationalisierung, will Fortschritt, pfeift die auch die Melodien von Rationalisierung und Fortschritt immer wieder, nur immer wieder wie im Wald. Als Polarforscher weiß er, dass die Botschaft, früher sei es dunkel gewesen, jetzt aber heller, nicht unbedingt eine frohe Botschaft ist. Die Geschichte der Fortuna sei eine Geschichte des Austrittes aus der Passivität und des Eintrittes in die Aktivität, eines Austrittes aus dem (Aber-)Glauben an die Schicksalsmächte, denen man unterworfen sei. Das sei die Geschichte eines Übersetzung aus dem Mythos in einen Denkraum, in dem der Zugang zu den schwer kalkulierbaren bis unberechenbaren Ereignissen erweitert werde: Geländegewinn! Das pfeift er. Warburgs Faszination für die magische und mantische Rationalität liegt aber nicht nur in der Vorstellung von einer Dialektik, in der Aberglaube mit seinem Hobeln rationale Verfahren wie unbeabsichtigte und leuchtende Späne, quasi als 'mefistotelische' Nebenwirkungen hervorgebracht hätte. Der Sog geht weiter, als Strudel und Wirbelwind, durch vorago und vortago und immer durch die Bilder, die für Warburg ja nicht nicht Polobjekte, sondern auch (Handlungs-)formeln, Gebärden und Akte sind, mitten durch.

Georges Didi-Huberman weitertreiben: Da verhält sich was, alles verhält sich: die im Bild und die davor, die Subjekte und die Objekte, und alles verhält 'sich einander'. Georges Didi-Huberman assoziiert das Verhalten mit dem Begehren und das Begehren wiederum mit der Ausprägung, die es in der Psychoanalyse unter anderem bei Freud und Lacan bekommen hat. Diese Assoziation ist schon ziemlich viel, aber dennoch: weitertreiben. Dieses Verhalten ist nicht nur das Begehren und nicht nur das Begehren, das einen psychischen Apparat hat, der mit Instanzen ausgestattet und genealogisch organisiert ist, der Vater und Mutter hat und damit ein Sortiment an Komplexen, die er, es und Über-Ich sich aussuchen und gegebenfalls therapieren lassen können. Lacan spricht es am Anfang seines Vortrages in Rom schon an, nämlich dass es ihm nicht nur um das Begehren sondern auch um das Fagieren geht, das vagire, also auch das Verkehren und Bekehren (überhaupt alles Kehren einschließlich des Querens) sowie das Verzehren. Das machen nicht nur psychische Apparate und nicht nur solche psychischen Apparate, die einen Vater und eine Mutter haben. Verkehren tun zum Beispiel auch die Dinge und die Undinge, sogar sich so verkehren, dass das Ding zum Unding et vice versa wird. Steine verkehren, das Laub und die Bockenheimer Hummel. Alle Planeten und alle Meteore, vom Tautropfen über die Aschewolken der Vulkane bis zu den Kometen verkehren, die Himmelskörper verkehren. Was davon auch verzehrt, diese Frage wäre ein Forschungsprojekt für sich.

2.

Wer ist der Mongrammist HC? Ist das der Antwerpener Maler von Genreszenen oder der nordholländische Landschaftsmaler? Von den beiden wird es eher der Genrespezialist sein, die fast burleske Allegorie legt das nahe. Aber vielleicht gibt es einen dritten Mongrammisten HC?

[morallygay]

Apparently there’s a poll trend of putting 10 of your fav female characters and ppl vote for their fav.

I’m kinda reluctant to the idea bc ppl will just vote for those they know and I’ll be sad to see beloved characters of mine have no/few votes just bc they’re less known. BUT! The main point is just to share some female characters you like bc #feminism so. I would gladly. And I tried putting relatively well-known media and characters.

[wolfie-wolfgang]

Back in Naples - weeks before Covid -soon we were all told to stay home.

On the 6th January 2020 I returned to Naples not realising it was going to be my last foreign journey anywhere for two years. On 31st January two Chinese tourists in Rome were tested positive for the Covid virus and the Italian government declared a state of emergency. The first case of Covid was documented in the UK that day too, followed by a series of lockdowns beginning in March. Soon we…

[bedziia]

Mother mothering

Inspired by Farnese Atlas

[icy-watch]

Let's see here, from left to right:

Farnese Atlas

Discobolus (maybe)

David (maybe)

The Thinker

Javelin Thrower

[cobawrites]

A Gust of Wind (Vash x Reader), Chapter 6

Vash x Reader, GN! Reader, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn Romance, TW: Mental Health Problems. Reader awakens to an unfamiliar world, left alone and struggling with mental health problems from before the crash. Vash emerges as a guiding light for Reader, and vice versa.

First >> Prev. >> Chp. 6 >> Next

                                           A Gust of Wind

                                               Chapter 6 

You and Vash rode toward the town, mostly in silence. You had been playfully bantering with him for a while as you started the trek back to town, but quite some time had passed since he’d said last anything. He must have been tired after such a long day. You let him be, choosing instead to plan your next move in your head.

How were you supposed to get away from him? After everything that happened…

Vash seemed to have grown ever more vigilant after the events on the ship, and you could still feel his heavy gaze on the back of your neck. It made your hair stand on end, and if he were any less charming than he was, you would have found it even more unsettling.

That’s right. He was a natural-born charmer, and he was unconsciously trying his damned hardest to worm his way into your heart. You turned to steal a glance at him, locking eyes when it turned out that he really was staring right at you this whole time. He offered you a small, warm smile as you whipped your head back around. Damn him.

It was bad enough that he was essentially holding you captive, but you were slowly becoming your own enemy, as well. You couldn’t let that happen. You knew what the consequences were, and you wanted no part of them.

With a heavy sigh, you ran through a few scenarios in your head. You could pretend to be head over heels for him. It wouldn’t be all that hard to do. All things considered, it might even be a little too easy. You swallowed hard and gripped your reigns a little tighter. Your mind replayed the memories of his embrace, and of his breathtaking feat of holding the ceiling over your family’s grave. Like a Roman statue made of the most beautiful marble, carved out by the sculptor of the Farnese Atlas themselves. This… really wouldn’t be hard at all.

Giving your cheeks a firm slap, you forced yourself to quit your daydreaming, and picked up where you left off. You let out another sigh.

Acting like a lovestruck fool might lower his guard, just enough for him to trust that you’d stay willingly. He might be more open to letting you out of his sight this way. And when he did, that’s when you’d slip away. By the time he realized you were gone, it would be too late.

Vash’s seafoam eyes flashed before your mind. His kind, lonely eyes. You shook your head, suddenly dismissing that idea. It was far too cruel, and not just for him. If you were to leave him, this would be the worst possible way to do it.

With a huff, you chewed your lip until you could think of a different way out. You could… Set his thomas free in the middle of the night and ride off on your own. Now, that sounded like a plan. He’d never be able to catch up. After you delivered the supplies to the town, you could ride with him wherever he wanted for a little while, and you’d trick him after a few days of pretending you wouldn’t run.

You mulled it over for a bit, hashing out the details. He was an incredibly light sleeper. Sometimes, you wondered if he really slept at all. Every time you woke up to stretch, you’d return to find that he had shifted positions. And when the anxieties in your chest would refuse you a good night’s rest, and you’d sit up to gaze at the stars, you’d feel a familiar pair of eyes following your every move.

This was going to be difficult.

Your gaze drifted over the endless sea of sand before you. Why did it have to be him? God had sent you an angel, when all you wanted was to grow a pair of wings yourself.

A few days passed, and there wasn’t much further to go until you reached town. The thomases kept a slower pace because of the extra weight from the supplies, but you were almost there. The closer you got to town, however, the faster your heart seemed to beat. There was an uneasy feeling in your stomach, and on the last day, you couldn’t keep anything down at all.

Vash kept offering you jerky, trying again after you had gone the whole day without food. You waved him away for the umpteenth time. You knew that if you tried to take him up on his offer, you’d simply throw it up.

You tried hard to focus on the road ahead of you. You could almost see the town from here, but your vision blurred in and out along with the beat of your heart. A cold sweat gripped you tightly, and your mind was running a thousand thoughts all at once. A dreadful pressure fell upon your chest. You could hardly breathe.

Would you pretend to be in love? Would you sneak away from him at night? Would you simply lose your mind and force his hand? Maybe he’d kill you himself…

Suddenly, you felt a sharp jab on the side of your ribs. You jumped in surprise, turning to find Vash poking you with a stiff package of worm jerky.

“Hey, I know this isn’t exactly gourmet, but I’m worried about you,” he said with furrowed brows. “You haven’t eaten at all since yesterday morning.”

You stared at him, your rapid thoughts slowly coming to a stop. The shock from his jabbing seemed to pull you back into reality if only for a moment, and there was an immediate look of relief in your eyes. Vash raised an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong? Spill it.” He demanded knowingly. You stayed silent, unsure of what to say. None of your excuses sounded all that credible. “You’re not plotting anything, are you?”

Immediately, the cathartic effect of his jabbing vanished into thin air, and your stomach churned. He seemed to notice something was wrong. “I’m only joking!” He backtracked with a light chuckle, trying to undo the damage.

Of course you were nervous. He could read you like a book, and you were the one holding it open for him. The way you had rubbed about two months’ worth of wear on your reigns in just a few days had not escaped his notice. Your hands gripped the material almost painfully, fingers restlessly rubbing back and forth along the straps. He watched you do it for hours, but chose not to say anything, letting you have this little piece of relief to yourself.

He sighed and gripped the package of jerky tightly. Suddenly, you felt another jab strike your side, much harder this time. With a yelp, you whipped around and snatched the package from him, smacking him over the head with it before tossing it back. Vash laughed and covered his head.

“I’m fine, Goldilocks! Like I said a hundred times already,” you huffed, your anxieties quelled for a precious few seconds. “Quit being so pushy!”

“Okay, okay, you win this round,” he chuckled, putting the jerky away. “But as soon as we get to town, I’m buying us some doughnuts.”

You wanted to smile at his offer, but the sinking feeling in your gut was starting to creep back up again. You felt a tap on your shoulder, and you turned to find Vash pointing at something in the distance.

“Hey, that big rock over there. Do you see it?”

You squinted your eyes. There was a large boulder with a crooked hole in the middle several yards away. “Uh, yeah? What about it?”

“Kind of looks like a doughnut…” he sighed, rubbing his stomach. You raised an eyebrow.

“I thought I was the one who was supposed to be hungry,” you muttered.

“No, I’m serious!” He insisted, pointing excitedly, like a little kid. “I mean, it looks a little funky… And the baker probably skipped their apprenticeship… But I would still eat it!”

You shook your head. Vash pointed at yet another boulder in the distance: a smaller one covered in a thick layer of sand.

“And that one looks like a doughnut hole! Look, it’s even covered with cinnamon sugar!”

You couldn’t help but laugh this time. Was food all he could think about?

“Alright, your turn! What do you see?” He asked, nudging you on the side.

You scanned the desert in front of you, focusing on all the different shapes and colors of the environment. Everything looked the same.

“Uhhh…” You scratched your head, unable to come up with anything. It was just rocks, rocks, and more rocks. One smooth, one with weird, jagged edges, one with tiny holes in it, as if someone had been using it for target practice…

“Actually, do you hear that?” Said Vash, riding a little closer to you. You shook your head, and he leaned in closer still. His voice dropped to a whisper, as if he were sharing his deepest secret. “The sound of the wind rushing by? Kind of sounds like…”

“Doughnuts in a deep fryer!” You shouted.

“Yeah, there you go!” He chuckled, elbowing you playfully.

You felt so silly having jumped aboard the bandwagon like this, but his enthusiasm was simply too contagious. A soft smile came over his face as he watched you lose yourself in a small fit of giggles, the gripping sensation in your chest all but gone. You continued to play along with Vash’s hungry version of “I Spy” until you reached town.

You were still giggling and looking around for the next remotely doughnut-shaped rock as you passed through the gates, but you soon noticed that Vash had stopped playing along. Glancing over to him, you immediately noticed his stiff frame. Snapping out of your playful daze, you took a good look at the town. This was not the place you remembered. The streets used to be crowded with children playing outside, but not a single child was to be seen now.

“(Y/N), listen to me very carefully…” said Vash, holding his arm out, prompting you to stop. You stared at his tense shoulders nervously. He looked rather torn, eyes darting in all directions. “Drop your cargo.”

“What, right here? In the middle of the street?” You asked, confused.

“Yes. Do it. Quickly.” The shift in his tone struck you, and you hesitated. “Hurry up.”

With shaky hands, you quickly unbuckled the bags from your thomas, letting them fall to the ground with a heavy thud. You scanned the empty streets nervously. A couple of men lingered around a street corner, staring the two of you down. One of them held a piece of paper in his hand. Squinting your eyes, you vaguely made out the details.

“Vash the… Stam… pede? Sixty million… double dollars…” your eyes widened with every word you read. You let out a sharp gasp upon seeing Vash’s goofy, smirking face plastered right in the center. You whipped around to look at your companion, but a sudden storm of bullets rained over your heads. Vash gripped you from the straps of your bag and hauled you belly-down over his legs.

“Vash! What in the hell?” You yelled, as his thomas lunged forward at full speed.

“I swear, I can explain!” He yelled back, swerving through the streets, trying to make his way back toward the gates, only to see them being pulled shut.

“Damn…” he grunted, coming to an abrupt stop, and switching directions down an alleyway. “Main gate’s a no-go. They’ve been planning for this…”

Vash tucked you under his arm and hopped off his thomas. He set you down and began passing you some of the items still stored in the saddle bags. “Here, put these in your bag.” You complied, still shocked at the course of events that had just taken place.

“Vash, what the hell is going on?” You hissed, stuffing supplies into your bag. “You didn’t say anything about having a giant fucking bounty over your head!”

He gave you an awkward, apologetic look as he continued emptying out the saddle bags. “I’m sorry…”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose tightly. “I mean, sixty million double dollars? Are you serious? How did that even happen?”

You stared at him, hands on your hips. You had a hard time believing that someone like him could amass such a large bounty. What could he have possibly done?

“Hey, it’s not my fault. I never do anything, yet people are always after me!” He pleaded.

You wanted to believe him, but the logical side of you had your doubts. “Yeah, I bet.”

You rubbed your temples, attempting to soothe your oncoming headache. You were way too exhausted for this.

“It’s okay, we’ll get out of here no matter what,” he said, finishing up his packing. With a gentle push, he sent his thomas away. “Too much noise. Had to let the little guy go…”

You tilted your head. “You could just leave me here, you know… I would only slow you down. I’ve got a clean slate, so I’m worth nothing.” You gestured to your still injured ankle. You were doing much better than before, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Not to me, but nice try,” he huffed, taking a firm hold of your hand, but you stood your ground.

“Vash, I…” you started, but you didn’t know how to finish your sentence. He tugged on your hand again, but you planted your feet stubbornly.

“Listen, (Y/N), this is really not the time.” He groaned. “Don’t do this to me right now…”

“If not now, then… when?” You said, nearly choking on your words, tears welling up in your eyes. “I won’t… I won’t get another chance…”

Taking one last look at his pained eyes, you shoved him away as hard as you could, and bolted out of the alleyway. You glanced over your shoulder to see him hesitantly looking both ways out of the alley, trying to determine if the coast was clear. It wasn’t, and a few men holding weapons had definitely seen you run from that direction. With no time to spare, Vash chased after you as fast as he could.

“(Y/N)! Wait!” He yelled as he dove behind every source of cover in his path while he ran, barely avoiding the rain of bullets coming his way.

You grimaced. This wasn’t what you wanted. You never intended to put him in so much danger with the stunt you pulled. Suddenly, your legs refused to move. No matter how much your brain begged and bargained with you to keep going, the pain in your chest had you utterly torn. You could see a desperation in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before, and you just couldn’t look away.

Without warning, a pair of hands grabbed you by your torso and pulled you inside one of the houses. You shouted and struggled against whoever was holding onto you. They let you go after dragging you a few feet through the doorway, and they quickly went over to shut and lock the door.

“Honey, are you okay?”

A familiar face greeted you. Marlene walked over to a shuttered window to peer outside, then turned her attention back to you. You glanced around in confusion.

“Did that maniac do anything to you?” She asked, a serious look on her face. Her son peaked out from the hallway to check up on the commotion. “George, I told you to stay in the basement!” He jumped at his mother’s harsh tone and scurried off.

“Maniac?”

“Yes, maniac.” She repeated, hands twisting and tugging at the material of her dress. “That monster’s got a sixty million double dollar bounty over his head.”

“No, he didn’t do anything to me…” you affirmed, still attempting to orient yourself. The stress and the running had made you incredibly light-headed, especially on your empty stomach.

“I just found out the other day, or I would never have let him so close to my Georgie.” She said through gritted teeth.

None of this made any sense. The image Marlene was painting looked nothing like the Vash you knew. “I don’t understand. What did he do?”

“That monster is known far and wide as The Humanoid Typhoon, bringing death and destruction wherever he goes. It’s said he steals plants from all kinds of towns for his own profit. And where there are none to steal, he simply slaughters the innocent, discriminating not between man, woman, or child…”

“That… that can’t be right.” You breathed, leaning up against the wall of her living room for support, letting yourself slide down slowly. A wave of nausea hit you hard, and your sight was rather dim. You took your canteen and a half-eaten nutrition bar out of your bag, and put your head between your knees.

“Oh, you’d best believe it. He looks innocent enough, but the JuLai military police have been after him for years.”

“But…” You held your head, trying to bear the dizziness long enough to drink from the canteen and finish the nutrition bar. “We were just out in the desert for days trying to get supplies for you and Georgie. We brought a bunch of non-perishables, and spacecraft parts for you to sell. All he wanted to do was help…”

Marlene’s eyes widened for a second, but they narrowed quickly once again. “Oh, honey, don’t be so naïve. It’s clear he just wanted to gain our trust.” She took another look out the window. “I will protect my boy no matter what. I don’t care if he saved us before. He’s clearly plotting something.”

Several more shots rang outside. You picked yourself up, tucked your canteen into your bag, and stumbled over to the window.

There he was, tied up and held at gunpoint by a large group of men.

Your heart sank. This wasn’t what you wanted. This wasn’t what you wanted at all. He went through all that trouble to help Marlene and the rest of the townspeople, and this was the thanks he got?

One of the men bludgeoned him with the back of his rifle. You gritted your teeth as you saw blood stream from his forehead. You clenched your fists tightly. What were they doing to him? He wasn’t even fighting back.

The men were now shouting over each other, deciding what to do with him. Some wanted to kill him outright, claiming he would be less trouble that way. Your stomach churned and your blood ran cold.

Another man spoke up, pointing out that the JuLai military police would pay more for a live capture, perhaps even enough for a plant. Ultimately, they all agreed, and you let out a sigh of relief, but only for a moment. The same man who suggested live capture jeered that he would wind up dead in JuLai’s custody anyway. That it was only right.  

You bit your lip, the taste of iron on your tongue.

Marlene gave you a pitying look and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Dear, I don’t know what lies he told you, but I assure you that he was only using you. That’s just the kind of lowlife he is. What kind of man with a sixty million double dollar bounty on his head would ever do something for a poor town like ours out of the goodness of his heart? I know you see it, too.”

You swallowed hard, a newfound determination in your eyes.

“Yeah, you’re right. Thank you, Marlene. That guy… must be a monster.”

[hadrian6]

Architectural Capriccio with a Portico with Corinthian Capitals, and Figures Conversing among Ancient Sculptures, including the Farnese Atlas. Giovanni Paolo Panini Italian 1691-1765.

Pen and gray ink and wash and watercolor over traces of black chalk.     http://hadrian6.tumblr.com

[tom-a-fox]

the Farnese Atlas statue but instead of Atlas carrying the sky it's me carrying ur fat nuts

[kismetmoon]

Our Atlas

[ID: a digital painting of an original, stylised Flatland character named Atlas.

Atlas is a light grey isosceles triangle with a dark grey tail ending in a large banner-shaped tip, black limbs, a single eye in the center of his body, a large black bushy eyebrow, chips in his top and bottom right corner, two white scars on his left side and one white scar across his eye.

He is posed in reference to ‘The Farnese Atlas’ statue. He is leaning forward and standing with one knee bent and his other leg also bent while being held in midair. He is holding a large sphere on his back. The sphere has a yellow crescent moon shape with a navy shadow. Atlas’s eye is closed, with two tears dripping from it and sliding down his front surface. His brow is slightly raised in a stressed expression. His arms are supporting the sphere on his back, while his tail curls up and around it on the right.

The background is white with a light green rectangle behind Atlas and the corners of the image noticeably fade to grey.

End ID.]

silly thang under the cut

[ID: the same drawing of Atlas as above, but the sphere on his back has been recoloured and replaced by the bisexual flag colours - hot pink, purple and blue. End ID.]

[interestinganimecharacterdesigns]

Character: Farnese Atlas Anime/Game: Hoshi Furu Yoru no Farnese

[fabiansteinhauer]

Atlas

Atlas wäre so, so schreibt das Georges Didi-Huberman, die emblematische Figur einer grundsätzlichen Polarität, in der Warburg die Geschichte der mediterranen Zivilisationen stets gedacht hat: auf der einen Seite die Tragödie, in der jede Kultur ihre eigenen Ungeheuer (monstra) vor Augen führt; auf der anderen Seite das Wissen, anhand dessen jede Kultur ebendiese Ungeheuer in der Sphäre des Denkens (astra) erklärt, erlöst oder in ihrem Spiel durchkreuzt.

[juanvaldescesar]

El Atlas Farnese es una escultura romana de mármol del siglo II d.C. de Atlas sosteniendo un globo celeste. Probablemente una copia de una obra anterior del período helenístico, es la estatua más antigua de Atlas que se conserva.

[ariestocries]

Atlas Farnésio ou Atlas Farnese (em italiano: Atlante Farnese) é uma cópia romana do século II de uma escultura helenística de Atlas se ajoelhando com as esferas celestes (e não um globo terrestre) pesando sobre seus ombros. É a mais antiga estátua existente de um titã da mitologia grega, que aparece somente em pinturas em vasos mais antigas, e, mais importante, a mais antiga representação da esfera celeste.

Atlas segura a esfera celeste porque foi sentenciado por Zeus a segurar o peso do céu. A esfera apresenta uma representação do céu noturno visto de fora da mais exterior das esferas celestes, com baixos-relevos representando 41 (ou 42 segundo outros) das 48 constelações clássicas gregas segundo Ptolomeu, incluindo Áries (cabra), Cygnus(cisne) e Hércules (herói). Datada por volta de 150, o Atlas Farnese é a mais antiga representação pictorial sobrevivente das constelações ocidentais, mas há muito tempo se presume que ela representa constelações mapeadas em obras mais antigas da arte grega.

(De acordo com a mitologia grega, Zeus condenou Atlas a segurar o nosso planeta nos ombros, por toda eternidade. O castigo foi dado, pois o titã havia participado da guerra contra os deuses do Olimpo, que tinha como objetivo a conquista do poder supremo)

No corpo humano existe uma vértebra chamada Atlas, ela é a primeira vértebra cervical e também a primeira das 32 existentes na coluna vertebral.

[blood-starved-beast]

Redemption arc squad for the bingo (Acxa/Farnese/Zuko/Riven/etc)

Redemption Arc squad yes (Did not include Zethrid and Ezor cause redemption - for what? Doing hot girl shit?) To start, here's the original so people have ease of access to see.

Send me more asks if you'd like me to say more.

First, Acxa

Unsurprisingly, she's the one who gets the bingo. Excluding a few others in the fandom, people get her wrong like the amount of parentfication she gets in the fandom is frankly insane why can't fandom be normal about her (saying this, as I proceed to not be normal about her). Her arc is great, and one of the few in vld that made sense, surprisingly enough. Only reason I don't give her the best is cause Haggar/Honerva is there. Of course saying so would be hitting the wasp's nest. She definitely should've gotten more screentime, and they wasted the fact that she worked with Haggar in s8 especially. Keith knew she was with Haggar in the Kral Zera no one bothered to ask her anything??? We should've gotten a backstory flashback in act 2 in my opinion. The way she went around backstabbing people like 10 times but you know she wasn't planning this shit out is the funniest thing what is wrong with her indeed.

Next, Zuko

Zuko, I don't have much opinions about as he was written very good and I'm pretty much satisfied with how the writers went about him. I'd say he gets top spot in Atla for best writing cause Aang's near perfect arc was messed up with the dumb thing to have his avatar state reopened by some random rock. Especially when the world building established that it was an emotional-psychological-spiritual thing. In that sense, Zuko was consistently the best. Zuko's most popular pairings suck and I almost forgot to put this cause my atla fandom experience was literally ten years ago but then I remembered zukk@. Zut@ra I never liked which is rich coming from me who likes friggin Rivelia but my excuse is that my fandom experience was shaped by exposure to that friggin ship war from way back then and that spoiled a lot for me. Katara deserves better and she's not a fixer, at least, not for Zuko she would. Fandom woobification besides that, annoys me especially when he can get all toxic masculinity sometimes (this was a thing established at the Beach ep). His arc is one that I'm always referencing so you could say I'm pretty obsessed with it. If you'd ask me about him 8 years ago I feel like I'd say more but I'm long overdue for an atla rewatch so I'd have to refresh.

Now Farnese

Farnese has one of the more interesting arcs in media I've seen recently. She's a bitch with little freudian excuse and does a lot of horrific things to boot. And YET her redemption arc is so so good Miura was a master at his craft Rest in Peace. I think she'd benefit more from screentime but this is just me wanting a good Berserk adaption post golden age. Her best character work is when she works with Casca and Schierke imho.

Finally, Riven

Riven I love a lot but she hasn't reached Meow-Meow stage to get the bingo (for League, that award I think, would go to Irelia). Her fandom reception is weird though, but that depends on who you look to. The cismale fans are really gross with her, and the friggin battle bunny skin is atrocious. The original that is. Which was a fan-inspired skin by the way. That and her popularity among this cohort really messed with her characterization, even in the writers room cause I'd feel like she should be Butch, but cause of it has since seen a more femme-mization in her splashart and other media. As with most non-arcane characters she needs more lore. I'd like to see a Zelda styled game for example, where she tries to atone for her war crimes in Ionia by helping people etc. Besides that I could see her working with Rell, Irelia, others. Sentinels of Light did her so dirty worse than Irelia for sure (maybe not as bad as Pyke or Rengar, but still). There were so many ways to handle that but they did her and Irelia's arc in the most superficial way that I'm dog-bites-cage-rail.jpg all about how it could've been done better. Btw, her popular ships suck cause they are with Yasuo, who I don't really like, and *shudders* Zac. Rivelia is next on the list after that but I do like that, but I have ~ issues ~ with how it was handled but also most fandom content for it is not my cup of tea at all (WHERE IS THE SPICE???).

Thanks for the ask Cat!

For everyone else, here is the original post.

[worldhistoryfacts]

The “Farnese Atlas,” a second-century Roman copy of a Hellenistic statue. It is the oldest know statue showing the myth of Atlas, the titan who was sentenced to hold up the sky. The globe shows over 40 Greek constellations.

[raskolni-kin]

TOMGREG and Greek/Roman Mythology

Tom Wambsgans (Succession 03x03) // Farnese Atlas (2nd-century AD) / Prometheus Bound - Nicolas-Sébastien Adam (1762) / Atlas - Coldplay

Tom Wambsgans (Succession 03x04) // Nero and Sporus / Teeth - 5 Seconds of Summer

The Rape of Proserpina (Ratto di Proserpina) - Gian Lorenza Bernini (1621-1622) // Tom Wambsgans and Greg Hirsch (Succession 03x04) // Chant - Original Cast of Hadestown

Greg Hirsch (Succession 03x04) // The Induction of Ganymede in Olympus (Die Einfehrüng des Ganymed in den Olymp) - Charles-Amédée-Philippe van Loo (1768) / Iliad, Book XX, lines 233-235 - Homer / An Asian Minor - Felice Picano (1981) / Jupiter, Mercury and the Virtue - Dosso Dossi (1515-1518) / Mars on his Chariot Pulled by Wolves - Claude Audran the Younger (1673) // Tom Wambsgans (Succession season 3 trailer)

inspired by @gothic-buffy ‘s post (i can’t paste link or anything right now,,, as i said, tumblr goes bonker every time i make a long post smh)