replicantdeviancy

[replicantdeviancy]

This blog is officially and permanently archived.

I’m not going to waste my time with flakes and false promises anymore. I remember a time when this place made me genuinely happy, when I thought the friendships I had made on Tumblr meant something, that we were here for one another. Obviously, I’ve been disillusioned by flaky people, disappearances and false promises. I’m far more focused on family matters and my career. Our country is in turmoil, my father has recently been diagnosed with cancer and we’re just trying to figure things out. Thus, this waste of time no longer serves me.

Thank you to the real friends I’ve made along the way and the wonderful stories we crafted together. I’m not sorry to see this blog gone. I’m just disappointed in myself that I didn’t do it sooner.

[replicantdeviancy]

Ship: Multiple Rating: Mature Summery:  Nobody expects the world to end, but one day, that was exactly what happened. Detective Connor Anderson was shot in the line of duty and was taken to hospital.

Weeks later, he wakes to find the hospital abandoned, and the dead risen. Now, he must find his way back to his husband and son, who have fled the city.

[replicantdeviancy]

After recovering from surgery for the last three weeks, I need to totally reverse my sleep schedule to return to work. I didn't mean to mess it up this badly, but I had a lot to do irl in the day time. Between the holiday, appointments & getting repairs done to my car, I've been crazy busy.

Smol edit, when i was writing this, I had a mild medical scare. I'm fine & I won't go into details, but there's a slim chance that i won't be going back to work on the 6th. I hope I do... Sudden, unnecessary stress....

[replicantdeviancy]

[replicantdeviancy]

"What about you, Connor? You look human. You sound human. But what are you, really?"

[replicantdeviancy]

"It's gonna be alright, Con. Let's go home."

Reassuring your boyfriend after a tough day at work.

(click for better quality)

³ᵈ ᵐᵒᵈᵉˡ ᵖᵒʳᵗˢ ᵇʸ ᵈᵃᶻ ᶜᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵒⁿ ʳᵉⁿᵈᵉʳʰᵘᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶻᵉᵖᵖᵉʳˢᵃʳᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵗʷᶦᵗᵗᵉʳ

[replicantdeviancy]

“A war is coming, you’ll have to choose your side… Will you betray your own people or stand up against your creators? What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?”

[replicantdeviancy]

It was intriguing, catching those faint glimpses into the mind of another, timid ventures of exploration deeper, beneath the veil. This wasn’t the young detective’s first time traversing the landscape of introspection with a mind not unlike his own, but he had to admit that Lecter was of a different class. He was poised, careful. Ever mindful with his words, just as Connor himself was. People often liked to talk, to inflate their own egos. The psychiatrist wanted to learn, seeking just as much as he was offering. It did come to mind that both of them were playing a game, trying to unmask the other as they conversed. Both allowed small glimpses into themselves, just enough to tease, to tantalize. It was just a little exciting.

The conversation once again turned to him as questions left Lecter’s lips, queries that felt as pointed as they did intentional. Was he, too, seeking a kindred spirit? Lecter seemed the type to be mindful of company kept, enemies held as closely as friends. But there was something genuine about that desire. Everybody wanted to be understood.

A thoughtful pause, almost pensive. The detective decided to be candid. “I don’t see them as sins.” This answer was surprisingly unfiltered, raw as it was honest. His voice remained that same neutral tone, dusky notes soft. “Morally, I’ve done questionable things. But I don’t feel any particular way about them.” He didn’t mind showing his hand, as his apathy wasn’t a shameful part of his character, nor one unknown. His partner knew that Connor had problems processing certain emotions, that empathy was selective & not always under his control. But he was very good at playing a part, showing the world his sweet, charming personality. Just a gentle boy, harmless.

Hank knew him as nobody else ever had; even, to a degree, his brothers. The only person to witness him completely unfiltered, see him to the most animalistic core of his being. There were those who might glimpse that truest of self & see something akin to a machine, but Hank saw something different. He saw something truly human. Connor appreciated that. He wondered if the psychiatrist could see the same, if he looked hard enough.

“There is risk & reward in everything. I don’t risk without the promise of reward,” he informed. It was true. Everything Connor did remained within the bounds of the law. It wasn’t entirely ethics that stayed him, but a lack of desire to do something illegal. His reward for giving his all to his profession was to see justice done, & to do that effectively, he needed to follow protocol. Connor was an expert negotiator & interrogator as much as he was an investigator. What people didn’t realize was just how tightly he rode the blurred lines of ethics. It was unlawful to intimidate a suspect, but there was no precedent against fucking with their head.

Connor was very good at that, both on & off the field. He was manipulative, unyielding & used knowledge as a tactical strategy to get what he wanted. Nobody knew. No one but his family & his partner. It was for them that Connor shifted his morals. “It isn’t necessarily for my benefit. Love & loyalty are also strong motivators.” He would never do to them what he did to offenders, though sometimes it wasn’t under his control. Not entirely. He was still doing the work to improve himself. He wondered if Lecter was motivated by self improvement. “Wouldn’t you agree, Dr. Lecter?”

Hannibal often wondered what would become of him if he were to peel away the flesh of his carefully crafted person suit. How would others react, should they glimpse the true nature lurking beneath? Will Graham had seen through him once, and in doing so, had abandoned their bond, forsaking their friendship as if it were a mere trinket. That betrayal burned within him, driving Hannibal deeper into the cruel embrace of his porcelain mask. The same cruelty evoked as a weapon against the other detective. He wore it now with a fragile awareness—knowing full well it could not endure forever. Sooner or later, it would all shatter.

His ego, steeped in sadism, pushed him forward, though he never deluded himself into thinking he could evade the authorities indefinitely. Sooner or later, there would be a mind sharp enough to unmask him—to unravel who he truly was and what he had become.

Connor could either coax the mask from Hannibal with delicate caution or forcefully remove it, shattering it in the process.

Hannibal was willing to be seen again, it seemed. If not understood to some varying level. That intimacy and perception was terribly addicting it seemed. Although he did have a healthy sense of self-preservation... he hungered more for recognition for his truer nature. Peeling back his face to reveal the stag.

"I came to understand I could not control someone's cancer, a car crash, these inevitabilities we will all eventually face that will alter us to our very being. But the mind… the mind is something I can influence one way or another. I can offer it peace, a fleeting solace, a semblance of kinship amid their particular madness. We crave to be seen, to be understood, even if we fight against it with every ounce of our strength. I find this new calling far more fulfilling, Connor. For within these minds, I am granted a gift; a rare and precious gift, one I do not take lightly."

There is a pause. It was not noble. But the thought amused him. He was far from noble or righteous. At least, not how he had made it seem. His sadism. And his hunger. His wickedness. He nods faintly, "I stand guilty of many transgressions, as all men are." And yet, Hannibal smiles. An offering. "Tell me, Connor, are you likewise burdened by your own sins? Do they push you into fruitless pursuits, ever chasing any form of redemption? Or have you become apathetic to them?"

[replicantdeviancy]

[replicantdeviancy]

Detroit: Become Human

↳ Connor / The Hostage

[replicantdeviancy]

Soft footsteps echoed slow & gentle, soles against polished wood. The detective listened intently to the doctor - not just his words, but his tone, the way in which he paused. Methodical. Thoughtful. To say that Hannibal Lecter was secretive was to say the day was long, that the sky was blue & faded sweetly into an ocean of blackness when nightfall came. He was just as careful & precise with his answers as the young detective, ever mindful of what impression he would give. It was all about control, over himself & the space in which he occupied, or those that he did not occupy. He wanted to be perceived in a very particular light. Connor understood this perfectly, for he, too, walked that thin red line like a tightrope. It was effortless now. He was well practiced since childhood.

He wasn’t offended that his own meager shedding of that expertly crafted mask of his was not met in mutual fashion. He wasn’t naive enough to assume that he would be granted such a courtesy. Nevertheless, he refused to erect those walls of his own again, allowing the older man to view just that little bit more of him. Whether or not Lecter could be coaxed into openness was as of yet undetermined, but the detective was a patient being, relentless. He hummed softly in consideration.

“I think that its debatable; the body or the mind being a bastion of presumed control as it relates to a medical outcome.” The comment was passive, yet it held no undertones of aggression nor opposition. He merely wanted to offer his own point of view. “Having authority over the mind… I’d argue that makes a person much more godlike.”

Finally, he stopped his exploratory pacing to look at one of the paintings on the wall, a lovely piece that had been crafted with care. There was a long pause, seconds ticking by like hours. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Rather, the quiet was made pensive by a moments introspection. When Connor looked at the doctor, it was with a faint, barely there smile upon his placid visage. “But then again, I usually become acquainted with a body post-mortem. Admittedly, my perception might be skewed.” A hint of joviality as he touched upon his own naivety. The detective was not naive by any means, but he was willing to accept & even tease at his ignorance. Had he no ego?

“Are you guilty, Dr. Lecter?” A somber shift in conversation, another question that was so innocuous, yet it probed beneath the surface. It came with an air of empathy. Connor had trained himself very well to display it. “Guiding others as a form of repentance… It sounds very noble.”

Rarely does the questioning get turned back on him. It’s an opportunity to undo the doctor and often, he’s not up for such a game. There was an unspoken power in truth and his own morality twisted and warped from avaricious perspective. Bent, waterlogged, and broken. Pus-filled and weeping — his heart was a cruel greedy thing, consumed with hunger & overtaken with desires. And it’s as if with the right questions Connor might be able to peel back his skin and expose vulnerable organs, needled bones and even truer intentions.

Hannibal is a gracious man under the right circumstances. Or at least, he’s capable of playing the part. The duality is hidden there in broad daylight. Sinister but painfully polite. Until that part of the mirrored hypocrisy shattered and all that was left was the meaning spelled out in the broken pieces.

So why had he left surgeonhood? The evocative memories played out as he chuckles, gaze taunt and mouth wet. His nails splintering under the muscle and tendon, fingers wrapping around cuts of meat and blood and cartilage all parting under the pressure of a scapula. Flesh and sinew, it was all the same.

“Other things… called to me,” he murmurs, his gaze lingering on the others pacing form with an unsettling intent. “I came to realize I couldn’t always save people with a scalpel. People die. You aren't the god you delude yourself into thinking you are, standing there in the sterile quiet of the emergency room. My hands, my skills— they were better suited to psychiatry. There, the strings of control are far tighter, far more predictable, than in the chaotic throes of a hospital."

The truth? His darker inclinations and his profession entwined like an unforgiving noose. No space to untangle the twisted threads within the human psyche when the weight of his own sins loomed so large, no wish to be caught by the law. He offers a faint, almost imperceptible smile, a shadow of its former warmth. “The work I do here is far less... tactile. It brings a certain peace, helps soothe the gnawing guilt of my failures.”

[replicantdeviancy]

A gentle chuckle escaped delicately smiling lips, quiet elation in the sound. All of those silly little eccentricities were at the core of what made the priest so precious to Connor. James was a warm & loving soul, a man whose vibrancy refused to wither with age. He went easy into the older man’s arms, graciously leaning into every one of those tender kisses. When they were together like this, Connor could relax completely, & simply let himself be. He hoped that James felt equally at peace in his arms.

“I could say the same thing about you.” His head turned to gaze deeply into those brilliant blue eyes as he shifted in James’ lap to face him, a little box wrapped in festively green paper in one hand. It smelled faintly of oak & amber. “Being here with you… It’s more than I could ask for.” Better than he deserved, he believed, but that alone made the detective a thousand times more grateful. Lean arms wrapped around the priest’s shoulders, legs draped carelessly on either side of his hips. For a long while, Connor said nothing. He just wanted to enjoy this moment, wanted to look at his handsome man & reflect upon their time spent together since that meeting of happenstance so many months ago in Detroit.

@replicantdeviancy asked: “Merry Christmas, handsome. Why don’t you come unwrap your present?” - Connor

Slowly, the greying Englishman sat himself up in bed, a few quiet groans leaving him from the light aches and pains of finally moving again before finally, a quiet smirk quaked in the back of his throat. He may enjoy acting up the old age thing at times. "I figured waking up to you was gift enough." He teased as he slid over to the edge of the bed. Admittedly, he was only half joking, he really did feel as though waking up to Connor being in his apartment was more of a gift than anything he could possibly give him.

Though as he settled there, soles of his feet pressed against the laminate flooring, he couldn't help but pull the detective closer, dragging him onto his lap and wrapping his arms around him to steal a kiss and press his lips against the back of the man's neck. "Merry Christmas, Il mio bell'uomo."

[replicantdeviancy]

There's just something very typical of my household that we're spending Christmas dinner trying to enjoy a roast and Yorkshire pudding while my birds scream for attention as a piano rendition of Ave Maria plays in the background.

[replicantdeviancy]

Like this post to have Connor invade your inbox!!

[replicantdeviancy]

Listening to the woman speak of Tor, Connor was reminded of his own brothers. They were wonderful, good & decent men who had always been there for him in times of need. Even when he & Colin were at odds in their younger years, the petty but loving middle child would rush to his side like a homing dove at the first sign of trouble. Xander was similar, overly protective & blessed (or was it cursed) with a sternness to his features that escaped the older two. Connor smiled at the thought of this small connection sparked between he & Angharad. Perhaps she would get him talking, after all.

“My brothers are just the same,” he explained, a soft huff of laughter escaping him. “I can’t say that I’ve ever been in a bad relationship before, but they’re just as protective over me as Tor is towards you.” Perhaps more so, though not entirely in a positive light. Colin had a cruel streak in him a mile wide, & Xander had a temper. “You should have seen the hell they gave my partner when they found out we were dating.” It was with all due respect, of course. The boys had taken careful consideration of the whole picture, & Connor was quick to present his own counterarguments. All things having been said & done, they had a great relationship with Hank now.

❝ thank you, ❞ she says with a smile. she doesn't show off her engagement ring, only because she knows not everyone is interested in jewellery. least of all jewellery that doesn't belong to them. no, her engagement ring is for her benefit and hers alone, tangible evidence of hers and parker's love for one another. ❝ oh, most likely both, ❞ she utters with an exasperated sigh. ❝ honestly, you have one bad break up, and your brother never lets you forget about it. he's convinced now that every man is the same as my ex. ❞ were she an albert ever really dating? they spent all those years dancing around each other. summers spent together in georgia, letters sent across the atlantic, their one and only tryst hidden deep in his family's peach farm. he had broken her heart, and tor had made it his business to make sure albert never forgot that. ❝ no doubt he'll interrogate parker the second her gets here. he did last time he was here. i adore him, really him i do, but he isn't half draining sometimes. ❞

[replicantdeviancy]

There was something in the way Dr. Lecter spoke that sounded like poetry to his ears, for his words held a quiet & determined passion that could not be snuffed out, not even if or when it came to smolder. There was a hunger inside, poignant. Something they shared, the good doctor & the pretty little detective. But furthermore, there was that understanding. Many had come & gone who looked at Connor & saw only what they wanted to see. A young beauty, naive. He couldn't possibly comprehend the goings on around him, the deeper meaning to it all. A silly beast with a strange mind.

Lecter didn’t see that. No, the detective suspected that he could recognize the same hunger inside of this tepid creature. A wolf could recognize one of their own, even when it wore the pelt of a sheep so expertly. For once, Connor didn’t feel the inherent stress that came with being found out. The world didn’t understand people like him, & would categorize him as something predatory or monstrous if he were discovered. It was pleasant to find new company with whom he could discard the mask, even for a short while. Life could become exhausting if the entirety of it were a stage.

A curious smile tugged at the edges of defined lips. His head tilted gently to one side. “Can I ask you a personal question?” The inquiry was followed by a short pause, purposefully. Watchful eyes upon the doctor. No objections came. Satisfied, he continued. “Why did you decide to pursue psychiatry?” Connor had an idea as to why, but he wanted to hear it in Lecter’s own words. Slowly, he began to pace the room, exploring. Ever the curious creature. “From what I could gather, you were a brilliant surgeon.” Connor, himself, could appreciate aspects of both. He was no doctor, but he was highly trained in both criminal psychology & forensics. Though if he were forced to choose, the vast intricacies of the mind were exponentially more fascinating.

　Hannibal’s curiosity was a constant hunger, gnawing at the edges of his mind. He longed to split Connor’s thoughts wide open, to see how they might bleed. Would they ooze thick and stagnant, like congealed secrets reluctant to escape? Or would they gush forth in a crimson stream, swift and unyielding, a violent offering for him to pray apart? There was no noble purpose behind his fascination—only the cold, ravenous delight of one who feeds on the marrow of another’s mind, greedy and unrepentant.

So many who captured Hannibal's interest get wrapped up in the insanity and the tragedy. He could only wonder what might befall lovely Connor who held so much promise—an ember poised to be either nurtured or extinguished?

"Delusion, detective, is a gentle poison," he murmurs, a faint smile flickering across his lips as his hands fold neatly together. "A soothing balm for the weary mind, shielding it from a world that knows only how to wound. The world is cruel when it chooses to be—ruthless enough to bleed us dry. But truth... truth is power. When you hold it, you can shape their illusions, bend their thoughts, their actions, to your will. Let them see only what you allow, believe only what you permit. This work of ours? It’s no different. We sift through layers of deceit and manipulations, carving out intentions & truths that people seek to keep covered." And it was beautiful. Easily addicting.