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#i'm serious when i say this has been brewing in my head for a calendar year
a-flickering-soul · 3 years
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EverymanHYBRID And Deer In Media: In Five Parts (click for individual comparisons)
Deer are both a symbol of fragile purity and the untamable wild–here, we examine deer in the context of man, where deer come to represent the urge within us to abandon the conscious ego for the subconscious id. The deer is a symbol, too, of rebirth, of transformation, of shedding and regrowing its weapons each year. To kill, to be reborn, to choose to be monstrous through our proximity to humanity. Is there not something pure in surrendering to animal instinct? If deer are the twin themes of innocence and wildness, then we in turn are the juxtaposition of humanity and monstrousness–our actions made monstrous by the attempt to temper them with humanity.
(transcript, analysis, and sources below cut)
1: The Secret History & EverymanHYBRID--Bodies
The Secret History, on the killing of a man in a hallucinatory bacchanal:
"'Henry,' I said at last. 'Good God.' "He raised an eyebrow. 'Really, it was more upsetting than you can realize,' he said. 'Once I hit a deer with my car. It was a beautiful creature and to see it struggling, blood everywhere, legs broken ... And this was even more distressing but at least I thought it was over. I never dreamed we'd hear anything else about it.'"
EverymanHYBRID, "Ryan and the SEVENTRIALSOFHABIT":
A shot of a deer's dead body at the side of the road at night, looking crumpled and not quite right. The captions read: "Jeff: It's a fucking deer, dude. (Evan: See it?) Yeah. Something cut its belly open. (Evan: It cut its belly open the wrong way.)"
Parallels drawn:
Consider this one an amuse-bouche. Henry draws comparisons between a man he killed to a deer he accidentally hit with a car, mildly naming the incident ‘distressing’. There is a lack of human empathy, of guilt over killing a fellow man. In comparison, Jeff, Evan, and Vinnie at this point in the EMH plotline have not yet become hunter or hunted–they have not yet been warped by their roles in this iteration and can acknowledge the upsetting nature of the events that befall them. Henry has tasted that amoral nature and is less human for it, more visibly willing to shed that veneer of attempting to care about other people. Jeff, Evan, and Vinnie have not yet reached that point.
2: “Whoso List to Hunt”, EverymanHYBRID, and The Secret History--The Chase
"Whoso List to Hunt", on hunting a fabled white hind:
"I am of them that farthest cometh behind./ Yet may I by no means my wearied mind/ Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore/ Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore,/ Sithens in a net I seek to hold the wind./ Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt,/ As well as I may spend his time in vain. And graven with diamonds in letters plain/ There is written, her fair neck round about:/ Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am,/ and wild to hold, though I seem tame."
EverymanHYBRID, "Slushpops and Surprises”
A shot of white text on a black page, "[Enter the tragic hero and his unattainable companion.]"
The Secret History, on hallucinations experienced during the bacchanal (bold for emphasis):
“‘Camilla said that during part of it, she’d believed she was a deer; and that was odd, too, because the rest of us remember chasing a deer through the woods, for miles it seemed. Actually it was miles. I know that for a fact. Apparently we ran and ran and ran, because when we came to ourselves we had no idea where we were.’”
EverymanHYBRID, “December & early January”:
A shot of Vinnie, hand covering his face in shock, as he sits and listens to Jessa’s last voicemail before she went missing. Jeff can be seen in the background, listening in silence. The captions read “[Jessa’s voice, recorded]: Steph, that thing you were talking about, I saw it...he’s real, he’s right here. What the hell does he want? I think he’s following me.”
Parallels drawn:
The deer symbolizes wild nature, something that man cannot obtain, touch, or capture without abandoning something of his own humanity. Similarly, deer represent the unattainable prey. Noli me tangere, says Caesar’s unattainable deer– touch me not, no matter how hard you may attempt to catch me. Jessa of EMH is deemed the unattainable companion and Jeff’s driving force to discover the truth behind the situation they’ve been placed in–it is Jessa, dangled in front of him after she goes missing, that leads Jeff down the path that inevitably leads to his own death after uncovering too much. The deer is to be chased, to be hunted, and never captured. Camilla from The Secret History believed herself to be a deer during the same hallucinatory bacchanal that cost a man his life, and led her brother and friends on a chase spanning miles. Jessa was hunted by an unknowable force, then used as bait to draw her partner down the path to his own death. Unattainability, the shape of something fleeing in front of you, elicits a powerful reaction to follow, to hunt, to chase. Jessa fell victim to that reaction. Camilla, and the white hind, did not.
3: The Myth of Diana and Actaeon, EverymanHYBRID, and The Secret History--Madness
The Diana and Actaeon Fountain at the Caserta Royal Palace:
The detail of the fountain shown depicts the pivotal scene in the myth of Actaeon and Artemis, where Actaeon, mid-transformation into a stag, is killed for the slight of viewing the goddess Artemis nude.The sculpture shows the transformation in no mercy, plain in its depiction of Actaeon’s pain and terror, and the simple ferocity of the hounds that surround him.
EverymanHYBRID, “May & June”:
A shot of Jeff, blood spattered across him, speaking with a shocked and angry tone. The captions read, “Jeff: Why were we doing that? That was...that’s not what we were looking for. We knew damned well that wasn’t what we were trying to kill. (Vince: Close enough.) It was a deer! It was a fucking deer! I tried to pull you off, you tried to punch me in the fucking face!”
The Secret History, on the Greeks’ view of beauty and terror (bold for emphasis):
“Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful to souls like the Greeks or to our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves? Euripedes speaks of the Maenads: head thrown back, throat to the stars, ‘more like deer than human being’.”
Parallels drawn:
Most depictions of Actaeon, sculpture or painting, usually show him with antlers or a deer lower body, leaving his head and face a recognizable human shape. However, the sculptor here decided to subvert expectations and leave his body human, giving Actaeon the animal head of a stag. The loss of control and the descent from human to animal is not glorified or made palatable by the mere addition of a crown of antlers--there is only the one constant, fear, that follows him all the way down. Madness may be defined as a loss of control, and there may be something beautiful and terrifying in feeling your sanity slip through your own fingers. Jeff, Evan, and Vinnie are overtaken by brief, inexplicable madness and tear apart a deer as they come dangerously close to uncovering exactly who and what is hunting them. They skate close to seeing soemthing they shouldn't see. It is only Jeff who looks up, shocked by the blood on his hands, and voices his fear. Vinnie, apathetic, lets it go. But Evan, houndlike and irrational, defends his kill.
4: EverymanHYBRID & Hannibal--Warnings and Temptation
EverymanHYBRID, “May & June”:
A shot of Evan, spattered heavily with blood, standing with shoulders caved in protectively. His left hand is raised to his mouth, with his hair covering his eyes, and he is licking the blood off of his fingers.
“Shot Through The Hart, and Hannibal’s To Blame” (bold for emphasis):
“In my post about ravens, I talked about how it’s not always easy to tell what the Ravenstag really means. Is it evidence of the Hannibalesque elements of Will’s soul? Or a warning of those parts growing within him? Does the Ravenstag urge Will forward on his journey, or warn him of what’s to come?”
Hannibal, Season 1, Episode 1 “Aperitif”:
A shot of the Ravenstag, staring directly into the camera with one hoof up, as if to approach. There are black feathers interwoven with its pelt and its eyes have an uncanny shine.
Parallels drawn:
On a naturalistic note, deer are skittish creatures. They have thin legs and a sleek body, made for running. A small head and big eyes, placed wide-set to see coming predators. Keen ears. They are ready at any moment to sense danger, warn others, and flee. When a deer does not move, it is either safe or sizing up its options, either accepting where it is or preparing to run. Deer, staring directly at the viewer, come as a sympathetic warning to flee or, in its dark eyes and firm stance, a temptation. Me tangere, they say. Come closer. We are one and the same. In Bryan Fuller’s Hannibal, the commanding presence of the Ravenstag serves as both a warning and a beckoning temptation to turn his feet down the darker path. It is otherworldly, black-furred and feathered, and yet a warning of events rooted in the real world--does Will understand what danger he is in upon meeting Hannibal and take the warning, or will he ignore it, sensing that same darkness in himself, that same potential for corruption? In EverymanHYBRID, it is that same killing of a deer that hints at that same potential for darkness growing inside Evan. He licks at his fingers, animalistic, fully ignoring his own Ravenstag warning signs for the delight of the hunt. Is he Evan anymore? Or is something else growing inside him?
5: EverymanHYBRID & Hannibal--Predator and Prey, or the Final Act
EverymanHybrid, “:D”:
A shot of HABIT, looking up a set of stairs with one foot on the bottom step. In one hand down by his side, he is holding a knife. His posture is tilted forward, poised, ready to spring into action, like that of a hunter.
“Shot Through The Hart, and Hannibal’s To Blame” (bold for emphasis):
“The idea of deer as symbols of rebirth also stands out to me. Hannibal is a series obsessed with becoming and transformation. People start one way, and are reborn as something completely other by the end of the show. There’s even a character sewn up into a deceased pregnant horse in the hopes that when she’s released, she will be literally reborn as something different. It’s thus a neat fit, this significance of deer with the themes of the show.”
EverymanHYBRID, “:D”:
A shot of Jeff, looking up and to the side with an expression of caution and fear. His eyes are unnerved, squinting as, from offscreen, HABIT’s hand plays idly with his hat.
Parallels drawn:
The first and final incarnation of the deer is, of course, prey. Beyond and before any symbolism of innocence and wildness and warnings, deer are prey animals, to be hunted and devoured. And yet, in keeping with the concept of contrasting symbolism, deer are not helpless. Yearly, they shed and regrow their antlers in a transformation of horn and blood. At the climax of EverymanHYBRID, the final reveal, the final transformation, comes to fruition. HABIT, formerly Evan, takes its place as the Hunter, the archetypal predator, with Jeff shown most prominently as the Prey. Jeff’s luck has run its course, with him in the chair as the sacrificial prey-victim to fall to HABIT’s knife. HABIT, reborn, reiterated, made incarnate through Evan’s unwilling transformation, is poised to start the hunt. This is the big reveal, the crux of the transformation, Actaeon caught mid-transfiguration and the bloody sloughing-off of velvet humanity to reveal perfect and gleaming antlers. This is what it comes down to, time and time again. The hunter and the hunted. The wilderness embraced and the wilderness captured, and the monstrosity in that act.
Works Cited
Callimachus. Actaeon and Artemis. C. 220 BC
Fuller, Bryan. “Apetirif.” Hannibal, season 1, episode 1, NBC, 4 Apr. 2013.
Koval, J., Caffarello, V., &; Jennings, E. (Directors). (2011, July 12). May & June [Video file].
Koval, J., Caffarello, V., &; Jennings, E. (Directors). (2012, October 9). :D [Video file].
Tartt, Donna. The Secret History. Penguin, 2006.
Uhminuh. “Shot Through the Hart, and Hannibal's to Blame.” Read the Rude, Wordpress, 19 July 2020.
Wyatt, Thomas. “Whoso List to Hunt, I Know where is an Hind.” c. 1530.
Honorary mention to this fanart by @/rrhaes that started this whole spiral
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spideyspeaches · 3 years
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Sweet child ‘o mine ↬ a.r
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sweet smily babie
A/N: Requests are open btw! I love writing Arvin and I don’t have any arvin requests so you can request for arvin btw :) 
Request by @kelieah​ : okay okay. let's get to it hehe. arvin right? oh my god you should write a dad!arvin 🥺🥺🥺 and reader is pregnant but he's like super protective and lowkey a wreck bc he doesn't know what he's doing? and reader is probably really close to popping the baby? up to you, can't wait to see what you write! :)
Kk so I went a little overboard with the fluff XD 
WC: 1.3k+ 
Pairing: Dad!Arvin Russell x Pregnant!Reader
Masterlist || Taglist 
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Arvin was a protector by nature. He protected all the people he loved, whether it be his late sister, or his girlfriend, now wife and a mother of two. Before you had your first child, Arvin would constantly hover around you till it annoyed you to the point where you would sleep in a separate room.
("Hun don't lift those! You'll hurt the baby!" Arvin shrieked, rushing towards you as you held the shopping bag in your hand with an amused and angry expression. 
You were nearly six weeks pregnant, nowhere near your due date, and yet here you were.
"Arvin, this is one single shopping bag."
"Yes but you shouldn't! I saw what happened to the neighbour's wife when she tried to lift 'er bed!" 
"Arvin…" you said, tapping your foot impatiently, dropping the shopping bag near your couch.
He was looking at you with a worried expression. You didn't give him time to answer, instead pulling him for a deep kiss. 
And what if you were with a child? You were still horny and he was right there looking like a snack.) 
You found the protectiveness endearing, especially watching his gruff exterior cut through like a knife. But you were pregnant and you were grumpy, sick of his overbearing attitude and had finally asked him to leave you alone for two seconds, maybe have a cigarette or two. The poor guy had looked heartbroken that day, just enough for guilt to brew in your heart, but you stood your ground. 
That day also happened to be the day your first child, Willy, was born. You had convinced yourself that you would never witness such a site as of your husband holding your firstborn with utmost care and love radiating through his every pore, bobbing the baby’s little head as he hummed some lullaby, his soft voice lulling your tired form to sleep. 
“Mummy why is daddy walkin’ like that?” Your four year old son asked, looking at you with his daddy’s big doe eyes, making you coo at his adorable expression. 
You were sitting on the couch, nine months with your second child, way past your due date as your son sat besides you, a hand on your rounded belly, smoothing down your dress and “talking” to his brother. You found it cute, already feeling the love the little child was going to get from the second smallest member of the Russell family. 
You watched in amusement as Arvin paced the hallway, burning a hole in the rugs as he ran a hand through his hair, messing them up as he cursed softly. He had been like that from the day your second child was about to arrive, only for them to want to stay a little longer in your belly. 
"Honey you're gonna bear a hole in there." You said, burrowing your brows as he looked at you. He was a wreck, you could see it in how he tried to work two jobs, only to meet you when you were back in bed. 
“Daddy’s a little tense right now hun, he’s… he’s worried why the baby hasn’t come to us yet.” You said, caressing Willy’s head as he snuggled next to you, nodding with a faux serious expression. 
“Maybe the babe feels safer in your belly moma, it must feel very much loved.” He said with a toothy grin, bumping his nose to your bump as you laughed, hugging your little boy closer to you, tickling his sides, He shrieked with laughter as you bent down as much as you could to kiss his forehead.
“Well the little bugger has been kicking moma for a while now, I think he really wants to come, just findin’ it a wee difficult.” You said, hissing as you felt another kick under your ribs. Massaging the area just like the way your midwife had told you to. You sent your son a wink, hoping that he wouldn’t get too scared at your state. He, like his father, was also very protective of you and the baby.
Hissing at another contraction, you tried to do your breathing exercise, groaning at the pain you felt. 
“Daddy! Daddy moma is hurt!” Willy shouted, getting off the couch and running off to where Arvin had been pacing the room.
“No no no hun! Moma is alright, just a little- oh oh Arvin!” You groaned, stretching your husband's name at a painful contraction as you watch him frantically run towards you, stumbling at the carpet and falling on his knees in front of you.
“Hun? Baby speak to me, how far apart are the pains? Do you think it’s time? Should I-”
“Arvin?” You winced, holding your belly.
“Yes honey?”
“Shut the fuck up and do me a favour, get the bag ready will ya?” You said, clenching your jaw as tightly as you could without breaking your teeth, immediately feeling guilty at his crestfallen expression. He was only trying to help you.
“Yes, yes sweetheart, I'll be right back.” He said, scramming to go to your room to get the bag. You knew he had already packed it, unpacked and repacked it multiple times to keep his mind of the calendar. 
“Moma? Are you hurtin’?” You son asked, hearing a sniff. You sighed as you saw tears form in his eyes, running your hands through his hair as he sniffed loudly. 
“No bun, it’s nothing bad, moma’s fine. I swear.” 
“But you’re crying!” He cried out, launching himself on your chest. You sat down with a “oof”, the weight of your son sending you on your back sprawling on the couch.
“Willy! Be careful!” Arvin shouted, pulling your crying son off of you and palming his head as he buried his face into his father’s shoulder, wrapping his little arms around his neck as Arvin cooed at him, trying to shush his muffled cries. 
“It’s gonna be alright bubby, I’m not crying anymore, see?” You gritted, groaning loudly when you felt one resonate to your back, a pop sound startling you enough to widen your eyes.
A breath later, the only thing you could hear was your son’s sniffs and your breathing, the wetness between your thighs amplifying as you gave a loud groan, groping for your husband’s biceps, “It’s happening!” 
“Oh- oh fuck shit, sorry hun, Willy, do daddy a favor and open the car will you? We need to take moma to the hospital.” Arvin instructed your son, who obediently nodded, a determined expression taking over his adorable face as he ran outside. 
“Arvin!”
“Comin’ sweetheart, just a minute!” He grunted, positioning himself by your side, sliding his one hand under your knees and another at your back, You shrieked as he carried you bridal style, your son holding the door open for you.
You would have called the ride torturous had you not heard the shrill cries of your newborn, squishy wet cheeks and scrunched eyes fitted in the palm of your hands a few hours later. Laughing near hysterically, you gently rocked the newly swaddled baby boy in your arms, looking at your husband’s shiny eyes as he carefully touched the baby’s forehead. 
“He’s so tiny.” Arvin whispered, rubbing his thumb on the soft skin, watching in awe as the baby yawned, the little eyes scrunching up as they slowly opened, adjusting around the world in a newfound wonder. 
“He’s perfect.” You smiled, seeing your four year old hiding behind Arvin’s legs, watching you unsure of himself, “Come here bun, want to hold your brother?”
“I can hold him?” He asked, peaking at you through his eyelashes.
“Of course you can son.” Arvin chuckled, lifting the toddler as he sat on your bed, looking at you with wide eyes. 
"Here, hold his head, careful." You whispered, holding one hand on your older son's hands, guiding him to hold his little brother as he looked at the baby in wonder. 
"He's tiny!" Willy said, mimicking you when he saw you holding the baby. 
"You were this tiny too once, son." Arvin said, smiling at you and Willy. 
"No way! I'm a big boy." Willy argued, pouting, which made you and your husband laugh.
"Whatever you say baby."
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