#˾ ʜᴀɴɴɪʙᴀʟ ̚ ;; ᵈᵒ ⁱ ᵗᵉʳʳⁱᶠʸ ʸᵒᵘ? ᵒʳ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵃˡⁱᵛᵉ?▐ ᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ

[replicantdeviancy]

Connor is 26, a young & ambitious detective who steadily rose in ranking after his talents were noticed by Captain Fowler & his superiors. He doesn’t show any distinct interest in promotions. He simply wants to help people. He specializes in homicide, having worked as a detective under a year. He’s still technically a rookie in his own field, though he has worked for the DPD for two years. He works with a seasoned police officer, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, as his partner. He has two brothers, both identical, one being more distinct. Colin & Xander work in different fields of Detroit law enforcement. They are very close.

Background:

Connor & his brothers talents & their potential within law enforcement were noted long before the trio entered the Academy. Amanda Stern, a mentor & friend since their years in university, suggested the path towards the DPD. As the director of the Psychology department, she was already well aware of the troubling inner workings of their brains, having slowly but carefully profiled the trio through observation. She determined that while they could become a great asset to the department, without guidance they could become a far greater detriment. She chose to coax them down the path of betterment, & the boys took to her advice well. The triplets hold bachelor degrees in Criminal Psychology & Forensics. During their time in the academy, the brothers thrived. However, due to the nature of their psychology, none passed the psychiatric evaluation & Amanda was presented with hard evidence to her initial suspicions. The diagnosis: Antisocial Personality Disorder. High functioning. Moderate. Though confronted with this damning roadblock to the boys chances at attaining their potential, Amanda had the results dismissed & the boys were hired against the better judgement of the Psychology department. The test results were made a matter of permanent, but private record & the trio began their careers within the DPD. While the middle child, Colin, would leave the DPD to pursue a career in corrections, the two remaining brothers received promotions quickly, far ahead of the anticipated pace for officers. Xander was promoted to detective for the SWAT department, Connor a detective in Homicide, where both would continue to thrive in what seemed to be their natural environment, their assigned departments perfectly corresponding to their particular proclivities.

Storyline:

In pursuit of the Chesapeake Ripper, the team under Jack Crawford of the FBI grew needy for assistance as Crawford became further concerned that his specialized profiler, Will Graham, had been compromised psychologically & feared breaking him. Through his resources Crawford touched base with Detroit PD’s Director of Psychology, Amanda Stern, who suggested her own protégé Connor Arkeit as a worthy successor. As such, Connor was assigned to work with FBI & transported temporarily to Quantico. There he was directed to work with Graham & learn what he could, ready to take over should there be a need for it. Instead he learned to completely harmonize with his partner, after realizing they both possess the same gifts of imagination & reconstruction. However, he realized Will could not turn off his empathy, & slowly Connor began to take on more & more in his role as profiler, both using Will for information & protecting him from further psychological trauma with mixed results.

Capabilities:

• Tactical knowledge

• Firearms training

• Martial arts

• Strategic planning

• Emotional manipulation

• Psychological manipulation

• Emotional suppression

Important Links:

Skills & Psychology

Reconstruction Analysis

Scar Analysis

PATH UNLOCKED: Relationship Progress

Selective shipping is possible as story progresses. Depending on chemistry Connor can be befriended, romanced or made into an enemy. note: Connor is transgender ftm/transmasc. If this makes you uncomfortable, do not attempt to romance.

[replicantdeviancy]

                                  ┌                                            "Guess we're both full of surprises."                                                                                                                ┘

                           @welcomeoblivicn​ || Blair Witch Starters || Accepting

                  There was a bare, tired hint of laughter which accompanied the equally exhausted smile afforded the usually aloof profiler. An expression which warmed the pretty visage of the detective whom had shared in their duel-institutional partnership over the last few weeks. In that time, he had come to know Special Agent Graham relatively well; something only a few could boast. He assumed it was due to his observant nature & his disarming personality, as his lack of judgmental viewpoints & their similarities opened an elusive door. But it was his unique way of looking at things which helped him see Graham as he did, helped him understand. The older man wasn’t much for social engagements, didn’t have a taste for banter, but he was also observant. He was a good listener, & while he trusted slowly, he trusted well. Connor imagined he had faith in his abilities, given his record & his work so far. He didn’t doubt his value to this team - he knew exactly why Director Stern had sent him there - but he was only just coming to realize just how Graham viewed him.

                  He was pretty & young, & that could be a detriment in his line of work, yet he expected no favors, no special treatment. Connor let his work speak for him. Praise wasn’t necessary, but he appreciated it when it was given. This felt like praise. His dark eyes watched the not-so-fleeting gaze of brilliant blue & he was glad for it. Graham didn’t do eye contact well. He made his excuses why, but Connor believed he knew the truth. Regardless, he smiled a little for him.

                   ❝ I guess so. ❞   A small response that felt vaguely playful coming from him, his dusky voice & boyish charm offering a kind of relief to the stagnant atmosphere of the house they then occupied, as did the team. Though the bodies had been removed their bloodstains remained, as did the sense that this house would never be clean again. Connor was not that type to believe in superstitions or ghost stories, but horrors such as these which disrupted the quiet suburbia of this lovely little Maryland home would haunt the rooms left stained crimson, like echoes through time. The perp was patient, organized & living a delusion which would only escalate until he was caught. Graham knew this, had profiled it, but this was the first time he had let Connor do the reconstruction alone. That lended to a consideration that Graham had begun to trust him enough to allow himself a bit of respite from the darkness without the continuously nagging fear that he would somehow fail if he did not sink head first into it.

                  Connor knew his thoughts should be on the case, not this small but miraculous breakthrough. Yet there he was, letting his feet guide him in slow but directed steps towards the profiler. Arms crossed loose over his chest, his gaze fell only a moment as a pensive thoughtfulness washed over his features. He seemed almost shy. Almost. He wasn’t, but the illusion helped set the tone. He looked up as he came to a stop only a foot or two away from Graham, close enough to speak quietly, personally, but not enough to invade his space. Everything the detective did was careful, chosen. He was good at being whatever the individual needed.    ❝ So, um-- ❞   A pause. He looked off to the side a moment, his glance quick so as to take note of the location of their teammates before speaking. Jimmy & Zee were off bickering like an old married couple, as they did. Bev was speaking with Jack about forensic finds. Connor understood her methodology in the matter, but he didn’t pay much attention to her just then. He was busy.

                  Finally, he looked to Graham again & spoke in a somewhat lowered voice.   ❝ You were speaking to me when I was still in the reconstruction - I know you were speaking because I vaguely remember hearing your voice, but I didn’t pick any of it up. ❞   A strange thing to say when he had been answering Graham, though his responses were notably muted & less articulate than Connors usual witty intellect. The detective anticipated surprise & he smiled a cheeky smile of amusement as a little breathy sound escaped his nose. He explained before the question could be asked. He knew exactly what Graham would ask.   ❝ I was still aware of you, but my higher brain functions were occupied at the time of our conversation. You were speaking with my medulla. ❞   & brain stem & a few other lesser evolved portions of a unique mind. Connor didn’t seem at all phased by this, nor the fact that he couldn’t remember what had been said. So he asked.   ❝ What did you say, again? I wanted to give you a more intelligible answer. ❞

[replicantdeviancy]

                   ┌                           welcomeoblivicn asked:                                  “ you don’t have a girlfriend, do you ? ”                                                                                                            ┘

                      @welcomeoblivicn​ || SCP Containment Breach || Accepting

                  A small sound escaped the younger male, something breathy, almost a chuckle. It melded gently with the light patter of rainfall just beyond the car windows, adding to the general ambiance a feeling of lightheartedness in spite of the subject matter presented. Connor had been surprised, having let his guard down as he relaxed into the peaceful atmosphere as he’d been enjoying his third coffee in the evening in the quiet of Grahams third generation hand-me-down car. He hadn’t been planning on sleeping tonight, his mind abuzz with curiosity about this new case which had fallen into their laps. It was all he could think about, until of course, the query at hand had been presented.

                  The cup which had been raised to his lips to enjoy another sip of rich autumn spices & espresso was lowered & the detective spared a nearly playful glance towards the agent in the drivers seat.   ❝ That isn’t exactly appropriate, Special Agent Graham, ❞   he teased, though there was no ill feelings behind his statement. Far worse & far stranger things had come out of Grahams mouth in their time together. It was just part of his nature to conduct himself as an oddity, yet something in him resented that fact & disliked that others treated him as such. Connor, who understood the man far more than he could perhaps express in words, didn’t make judgements nor consider him the way others did; like something strange to be gawked at or avoided altogether. He found someone kindred, even if the man had no idea how to function in polite society, or society in general. Grahams quirks were endearing. The detective hoped he was not merely speculative when he believed he had made a friend.

                  The small smile while had warmed his pretty features widened just a little, one side of his defined lips tugging upwards as he let his eyes drift from the man beside him to the road ahead. He needed to go back to the hotel soon, but he was enjoying himself. There was amusement in his dusky voice as he spoke.   ❝ But for the sake of quid pro quo, I guess I can forgive you just this once. ❞   No forgiveness necessary, only a little more teasing. Graham was fun to tease. He seemed to have taken to the gentle hazing well - most other people would receive a jittered, anxious response that felt almost angry or generally offended. But not Connor. He knew exactly what buttons to push & which to leave alone. He was clever like that. He had to be, if he could see as Graham could.   ❝ I’m not in a relationship with anyone right now; no girlfriend or boyfriend. ❞   It didn’t feel pertinent to disclose that little tidbit of information tacked on, yet he did it anyway. Almost immediately, the question was returned; quid pro quo.   ❝ What about you? Does Will Graham, Quantico's remarkable profiling genius, have time for dating? ❞

[replicantdeviancy]

Outline:

Connor E. Arkeit (26yo) is a homicide detective for the Detroit Police, Central Precinct, in downtown Detroit. He has been working with the DPD for four years, experience outside of the academy of two years as an officer before receiving a promotion into the detective position in Homicide, where he has a further two years experience. Before joining the force Connor attended college at Michigan State where he had a double major in forensics & criminal psychology. He graduated summa cum laude along with his two brothers. Within the DPD Connor quickly made a name for himself, not only in regards to his appearance & magnetic, charming personality, but with his work performance. To date, his case record stands at seven assigned cases solved, thirteen cold cases solved; solving cold cases has become something of a hobby for himself & his brothers in their free time.

Skills:

Connor has expressed a certain skill level for making seemingly impossible connections through evidence that help solve his cases. The gift of imagination coupled with his extremely proficient sense of observation builds the underlining structure of in depth reconstructions of scenes & incidents, & he has the ability to run through those reconstructions within his minds eye. (Connor used to place himself into the point of view of the perpetrator in order to better understand them in a psychological profiling, but after the Zlatko case he no longer does.) In Connor’s imagination he is the unseen observer to the crime, watching it unfold either in pieces or as a collective in order to fully understand what happened. Note: Because of his observant capacity he is often able to predict events with a strong level of accuracy, aiding him in planning & execution of close quarters combat & defense.

Due to his mental condition, Connor is an extremely proficient tactician, using psychological & emotional manipulation both in his work as well as occasionally in civilian life. He has been known to leave those he is tasked with interrogating in a disturbed state of being in extreme cases, though more often than not his tactics are standard police interrogation techniques. He is a calm & collected negotiator who can bury emotional instability under pressure in order to accomplish his task. Connor has learned from many years of conscious practice to use his mental dysfunctions as a tool rather than a detriment, & while he can be incredibly empathetic & warm he also has the ability to shut his emotions off completely if it is necessary. He can lie without any indication save for the involuntary dilation of pupils, keeping his pulse steady & breath shallow.

His proficiency with weaponry & martial arts is impeccable, though he would claim he is still learning. His accuracy with firearms is upwards of 97% (conditions do apply) & he has proven a capable sniper. Close quarters combat is where he thrives & his dulled sense of pain helps mask the damage he might suffer. While not notably strong physically, Connor is very fast & agile, & he shows a talent for improvisation. He can be brutal if necessary. Around the office, the team gave him nicknames like ‘Bloodhound’ or ‘Plastic prick’ just to razz him, making him part of the group of older, more seasoned police officers. Criminals on the streets call him the Deviant Hunter.

Notable Case:

A hostage situation following a murder of John Phillips on Aug 15th, involving a housemaid turned hostile after discovering he was going to be dismissed in favor of a replacement. (Evidence suggested there may have been romantic involvement between the suspect & the victim.) The daughter, Emma, was taken hostage by the housemaid, Daniel, & threatened with her fathers handgun at the edge of the high-rise balcony. SWAT was called in but with Daniel being so close to the edge of the building it was decided that a negotiator should come in to handle the situation. Connor was called onto the scene, arriving at 08:29PM, where he took the time to profile the suspect before engaging in negotiations. Connor managed to lull Daniel into a sense of security enough to feel assured he would walk out of the situation unharmed, though in cuffs. He released Emma & was taken down by SWAT snipers.

It should be noted Connor was left with a thick scar on his shoulder from a gunshot where the deltoid muscle peaks. In a fit of confusion & panic Daniel fired a single shot at Connor, having initially believed he was Xander, Connor’s younger brother, who was at the scene with his SWAT team that evening.

Sidenote: It was the triplet’s birthday.

Zlatko Andronikov was a suspect in a large scale underground human trafficking ring in Detroit & was under investigation for multiple cases of murders in the area. A raid on his home in the historical district on Nov 6th uncovered a far deeper sinisterness to Zlatko than ever imagined. Beneath the mansion were cages where Zlatko kept some of his ‘experimental art’ - the ones who survived their transformations. People turned into mere flesh barely living, yet still breathing, tortured & disfigured beyond recognition as truly human. Most did not live beyond a few days after rescue, to which most believed was best. Zlatko was killed by a houseman he had manipulated into servitude & Connor was tasked with a profile on Zlatko in order to aid the court proceedings for Luther, in order to reduce his own sentencing for his employer’s death & for accessory charges.

This case broke Connor psychologically & he was forced to spend time on leave to recover from the traumatic experience of inserting himself into Zlatko Andronikov’s head on a psychological level.

Psychology:

Connor, like his brothers, has been diagnosed with moderate high functioning antisocial personality disorder. It is because of this condition he is able to act in ways & in situations people may find uncomfortable, callous or almost impossible. He carries out his objectives without compromise lest the involvement of his partner might somehow compromise the situation. He has been shot protecting his partner, Lt. Hank Anderson, & has killed to defend him in the line of duty. Connor finds difficulty in attaching any kind of emotions to those he has not become close with, & his outward demeanor is more superficial than completely genuine. He is friendly, sociable & very kind, but mostly out of necessity to make work & life easier. He shows concern for others not on his behalf, but on the behalf of those he does care for who might feel sincerely for another. He does not feel guilty for any cruel or damning actions performed in the line of duty, only feeling remorse if he manages to upset someone he feels genuinely for. He lies, is very manipulative & has a tendency to flirt with people, men & women, in order to obtain something he wants with relative ease. He may also flirt in response to another’s flirtations, amusing himself by playing with them a little before moving on.

On the other side of the spectrum, when he does manage to attach an emotional connection to someone he cares deeply, almost manically. His desire to protect & see those he loves well is near insatiable & he has been known to use those same manipulative tactics on people closest to him, though with sincere intentions for their wellbeing. He does not & will not attempt to isolate people from others, insert himself into situations for attention, or harm them in any way, especially psychologically. If he loves, it is completely. He will also never lie to a loved one on any important matter, or really any matter at all.

Though it is very well hidden most of the time, Connor has anxiety & depression, though his depressive moods are few & far between. His anxiety, however, is in constant contention with his numb state of being & only in rare cases will it ever come to light. Nervous fidgeting, such as with pocket change or stress-grooming, are commonplace, though he is not prone to panic unless someone he loves is in danger or his objective is dangerously close to failure.

Involvement:

Silent Hill - A fog loomed over him, not merely over his body but over his mind like a blanket, cool & soft, beckoning him into the darkness. Connor found himself in an unfamiliar place, in a state of utter deprivation, bewildered yet too fatigued to do anything about it. It was not a fatigue of the body, but of the mind which was so powerful it stole all strength from his body & he could not move himself. He didn’t know why this town stole him away, but he knew he would either become a sacrifice for God or repent for his past mistakes.

Resident Evil - Full outline HERE.

Hannibal/Silence of the Lambs - In pursuit of the Chesapeake Ripper, the team under Jack Crawford of the FBI grew needy for assistance as Crawford became further concerned that his specialized profiler, Will Graham, had been compromised psychologically & feared breaking him. Through his resources Crawford touched base with Detroit PD’s director of criminal psychology, Amanda Stern, who suggested her own protégé Connor Arkeit as a worthy successor. As such, Connor was assigned to work with FBI & transported temporarily to Quantico. There he was directed to work with Graham & learn what he could, ready to take over should there be a need for it. Instead he learned to completely harmonize with his partner, after realizing they both possess the same gifts of imagination & reconstruction. However, he realized Will could not turn off his empathy, & slowly Connor began to take on more & more in his role as profiler, both using Will for information & protecting him from further psychological trauma with mixed results.

Marvel 616/Netflix - Many months after the incident in New York when the world learned that extraordinary heroes walked among them & villainy came not only from the furthest reaches of the globe, but from beyond the stars. After the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen helped expose the corruption within the city & FBI filtered out the turncoats within the NYPD, New York was in dire need for replacements. The Arkeit siblings volunteered for a temporary transfer to help clean up the city & maintain order. Having grown up so close to the city limits of Detroit & fully immersing themselves into it’s culture, darkness & light, the trio believed they would be fit to handle the task. On a more personal note, the boys were highly intrigued by the tales of super heroes & vigilantes, & the exploits of organized crime within Hell’s Kitchen. Connor was intent on learning all that he could, against the warnings of his siblings that he might get in over his head.

[replicantdeviancy]

i can't even trust myself anymore. -connor (pick a verse)

                       @intuitkiller || Source unknown || Not currently accepting

                  A feeling which had slowly grown inside of Will for some time, sprouting like vines inside of his veins, gnarled & reaching as if for the sunlight, wanting to smother the last of it from within him. Will was a man who was at odds with himself, viewing his mentality as something grotesque but useful. He held purpose in the world, but it was a darker world, a frightening place rarely viewed & where the good people unaware of that cold underworld might venture. Though the FBI profiler was of the sunlit topsoil, he was one with a gift nearly imperceivable, unknowable. There were no partitions in his mind, no space in which he could cardan off the horrors of his experiences through the unique eye of empathetic projection. He felt alone at times, lost though he was surrounded by those who knew & cared for him. Every piece of those ghostly images created by the evidence which remained of awful deeds manifested inside of him, effecting his whole being in some capacity.

                  Connor was not surprised hearing this confession, but he was accustomed to it, to similar murmurs late into the twilight hours when they were alone & no one could judge Will his fears. & he was afraid. Will Graham feared himself above all else, feared his mind & the images it spawned before his eyes in fever filled instances of preparation & panic. Standing as they were only feet from the scene of yet another strange & acutely artistic homicide, the detective felt Wills anxiety in waves. The way he looked at the younger male, the way his lips were drawn thin & wobbled on occasion, the way those bright eyes of his were so intensely focused, yet nervous, fighting the urge to lower, Connor knew. He understood. What he understood, he could not put into words, for their complete knowing of one another went beyond the convention of earthly language, beyond any linguistic translation. It was personal, deeply individual, yet formed in duality. Explanation was simply unattainable.

                  A hand came to rest upon the lean, scruffy cheek already cool with prickles of anxious perspiration, warm & inviting & deceptively soft. Connor did not bother to pause before his actions, to take a look around to note if anyone - Crawford or one of the team, the other officers - were watching them, as he didn’t care to. They were not his focus. He threw caution to the wind, uninterested if this moment of intimacy would be perceived in any way, analyzed or scrutinized. He didn’t care. All that was important in that moment was the fear in Wills eyes & that small, frightened confession. ❝ But I trust you, ❞ came a soft reply, & it passed those defined lips so effortlessly, so easy. A smile was offered, only a meager tip of the lips drawn upwards, widened slightly, & a fondness in those dark eyes which never dissipated.

                  Connor Arkeit trusted Will Graham, with anything & everything. A brush of his thumb against a high cheekbone, quiet & loving. How he longed to kiss, to remain near, but this was an active crime scene & there was investigation to be done. So it was with hesitation, with chagrin, that he moved to pull away, but not without reassurance in place. ❝ I’ll do the reconstruction. ❞ It wasn’t a negotiation, nor was it a takeover. Connor took nothing from Will that was not readily given, but he would assume his place when necessary. Now felt very necessary. Will was in shambles, unfit for duty, but the detective was not the one who would tell him something so brazen, something Wills ears would not want to hear. So, he didn’t.

                  A brief kiss pressed secretly to that cheek, leaving a hint of returned warmth which dissipated quickly into the cold air like a ghostly afterimage. Connor said nothing else as he turned & walked towards the carnage left by their unsub, nor did he need to. Their language was not limited to words, & he knew Will understood him perfectly. So when he looked over the scene & took position before it all, a clear & unobstructed vantage point, he let the thoughts drain from his mind & allowed himself to breathe. The world around him quieted, heart rate slowed - he could hear its calm, rhythmic beating at the edges of his perception, the only outside influence in that transitional state of his headspace.

                  The brightness of his eyes dulled as the conscious self retreated, the subconscious taking it’s place. Before him were the visions of shadow & incomplete outlines of person-like entities, frozen in place as he waited, waited. The stage was set. Somewhere, outside of his inner universe, his feet began to walk.

[replicantdeviancy]

There was never a lacking of culture within the Arkeit household. As children, Connor took on a very maternal role as the trio grew more & more distant from their parents, & he would often read to his younger triplets in the yard or in bed late at night. Xander fell deeply in love with the haunting beauty of existentialism in the classics & to this day his favored book is Paradise Lost by John Milton. In their youth the boys raided their mother’s bookshelves & often found a treasure trove of information & literature to feast their starved minds upon. They became intrigued by the works of Shelly, Blake, Milton & many others, as their words of a lost wonderment of the human condition & the self spoke to them, as they felt unable to truly be themselves within their own household.

Later in life, when Connor met Markus during a hospitalization, their cultural interests as a family were only allowed to grow, even in the confines of the gritty reality of the hardened lives of law enforcement had threatened to taint them. Nevertheless, though art was not a constant focus in their world, the ability to escape from the darkness, to pause & breathe & speak with others who would relate on the subjects of their fancy became a kind of sanctuary inside of the real world, especially for Connor. He came to truly appreciate the conversations he might have with this new friend & his loved ones, in the relationships forged through an appreciation of aesthetic & art in all forms, especially the written word. Connor’s favorite poem is by William Blake; Auguries of Innocence. ‘Heaven in a wildflower’ - the line struck him, as he decided that beauty could be conceptualized even in the most mundane, or dare say it the most morose & macabre realities of human existence.

Note: (Hannibal/Silence of the Lambs verse) Connor knew the line of which Hannibal Lecter referred to Will Graham while in his incarceration. The line spoken seemingly at random & without context, yet very much a clue as to the nature of his perception of the Red Dragon. ‘A Robin Redbreast in a Cage Puts all Heaven in a Rage.’ A quote reminiscent of his childhood. In turn, he was also familiar with Blake’s work The Red Dragon & The Woman Clothed in the Sun.

[replicantdeviancy]

                                                 ʙʟᴏᴏᴅʜᴏᴜɴᴅ & ꜱᴛᴀɢ                                                 ᶜᵒⁿⁿᵒʳ ᵃʳᵏᵉⁱᵗ & ʷⁱˡˡ ᵍʳᵃʰᵃᵐ                                                    ˢʰⁱᵖ ᵃᵉˢᵗʰᵉᵗⁱᶜˢ ᵇᵒᵃʳᵈ

@intuitkiller​  When you can’t decide between Charlie Cox & Hugh Dancy so you do both

[replicantdeviancy]

                                                ʙʟᴏᴏᴅʜᴏᴜɴᴅ & ꜱᴛᴀɢ                                                ᶜᵒⁿⁿᵒʳ ᵃʳᵏᵉⁱᵗ & ʷⁱˡˡ ᵍʳᵃʰᵃᵐ                                                   ˢʰⁱᵖ ᵃᵉˢᵗʰᵉᵗⁱᶜˢ ᵇᵒᵃʳᵈ

@intuitkiller​ When you can’t decide between Charlie Cox & Hugh Dancy so you do both

[replicantdeviancy]

did someone hurt you? -connor (hannibal)

                           @intuitkiller​  || interrogation starters || Accepting

                  There had been a prevailing feeling which lingered upon every just slightly too deep breath taken & every wrong twist of his posture that the detective’s sore bones were a dead giveaway to injury. Pain was not something Connor Graham was intimately familiar with - an oddity which could be perceived as a blessing  or a curse depending on one’s point of view - but the fact still remained that when he was hurting, it was very, very real. The encounter with the Italian thugs hadn’t been an expected one, though subsequently it was not surprising. It seemed as though the game had a few new players which had entered the board & the detective could not help but speculate as to whom had tipped them off. His money was on Pazzi, whom had been acting somewhat suspicious since their last meeting. The man was avoidant, seemingly too busy to exchange pleasantries with American law enforcement, especially an FBI agent.

                  A quiet moment of pensive thought lasting a bare, miniscule instance, yet far too long all the same. Fractions of a second felt like an eternity as Will reached, touched. Connor tried not to flinch. His ribs were bruised. He did not imagine any were broken, but they must have been utterly blackened beneath the thin cloth of his fitted collared shirt. He released a breath from his nose, small & thin, & tried to smile that usual charming little smile as he remained as noncommittal as possible about his pain. Though one did wonder how committed one must have been it a touch brought hitch breath & pressure could agonize.

                  ❝ It’s nothing, ❞   he assured with a brief, shallow shake of the head. Aloof in his own way, stubborn. He led Will to the steps beside a fountain not far off & carefully eased himself to sit upon the ancient stone. The sun was setting, creating an ambiance throughout the piazza, one Connor wished he could enjoy. Alas, there were more important ventures abound than the carefree meanderings of a couple on vacation in Florence. There was work to be done, though Connor did long for an excuse to explore. Italy was more beautiful than he had ever imagined, the air itself warm & soothing, like the peaceful end of a springtime day. It was no wonder Dr. Lecter favored the country so, as it’s rich culture & the ease of obtaining life little fineries abundant. Connor wondered why the feds hadn’t tracked him here sooner. It felt far too obvious.

                  He sigh out his frustration to the loss of a beautiful night of just himself & Will, hazelnut hues turning upwards to meet richly blue tinted hazel.   ❝ It seems as though we aren’t the only ones hunting Il Monstro, ”   he informed with a pointed factualness that Connor was known for; always straight to the details, to the facts.   ❝ I met with a couple large thugs I can only assume are hitmen of a kind. They’re Italian, but not local. ❞   Not from the area but clearly native. The smelled of farmland & pigs, of filth from a less than ideal grooming routine. Countryside dwellers & very tough. He continued.   ❝ I was informed in no uncertain terms that I was to cease my investigation into Il Monstro, & I’m very sure they aren’t in affiliation with the dear doctor. ❞   Lecter might have found himself part of some colorful crowds in his time, but he would have never associated himself with such men. This stunk of outside interference. It stunk of Mason Verger.

                  ❝ I think they’re working for Mason. That lowlife has a grudge & more money than god. ❞   & an obsession with the pig farming industry, which would line up with the evidence thus far, circumstantial or not. Connor was the sort to make inexplicable leaps, just as Will did, to move further with a case. It just so happened that much like Will, he was usually right.   ❝ & I also think Pazzi might be involved. ❞   This notion made just as much sense, as the inspector had fiercely hunted down Il Monstro in favor of mending his damaged reputation. But a large payout from a wealthy American patron must have been more appealing than pride for Pazzi. The man had a young wife to consider, but this felt bigger than the capacity to spoil one’s spouse. There was something he wasn’t seeing; not yet.

                  A little anxious & stubbornly primed to continue, Connor ignored his own injuries for the sake of the hunt.   ❝ We should-- A-aah! ❞   Sitting up just a little too quickly, movement tugging at the sore muscles & bruised bones, the detective froze in his sudden motion to rise to his feet & carry on. Breath caught, breathless shivering as that pretty visage screwed up into that of anguish battled long & hard, yet this was a fight lost. A trembling hand moved to reach towards the site of the pain, only to hover there for fear any pressure would make things worse. Whoever those men were hunting down Lecter for Verger, they were tough. But Connor was no damsel, no delicate thing. He was skilled as could be in various combat techniques, but agility & speed did little when one was trapped. He had held his own, easily done worse to his opponents before his escape, but not without consequences.

                  Maybe he did have a broken rib or two. It was difficult to tell. No matter the diagnosis, the detective understood one thing as he looked into the concerned eyes of his fretful husband; the investigation was over for tonight. Connor needed rest, a bit of doctoring & some food. Pearly teeth caught the reddened swell of his bottom lip as he let out a soft series of little groans, breathy sounds of embittered anguish.   ❝ Sorry. I think I screwed up. ❞   An apology not of necessity - Will knew full well this was not his fault - but of the heart. The investigation didn’t matter to the profiler as much as the safety of his loved one, revenge second place to Connors wellbeing. A small sigh left the younger as his head lowered, eyes cast downwards. Only briefly. Only a moment. He looked to Will once more with pleading, quiet & hopeful.   ❝ Take me back to the hotel? ❞

[replicantdeviancy]

Scar Analysis: Connor E. Arkeit

This analysis is to express any & all (current & optional) scars Connor might have in his Human Verses. More will be added as Verses are expanded. All are derived from optional wounds obtained during the game (besides those associated with gender reassignment) & have been carefully selected for certain plot points or story arcs. As there are still plenty left, there are opportunities for future use.

Right Temple - Miniscule, faint & circular. Obtained some time during early childhood, before Connor can remember.

Left Deltoid, Center, Mid - Thick & slightly keloid from poor skin regrowth, somewhat rough. Obtained  in the line of duty from a gunshot during a hostage negotiation situation by a housemaid named Daniel [Expunged], in which the bullet deeply grazed Connor’s shoulder muscle, creating a tunnel-like gash. Recovery was slow as skin was unable to be completely closed with stitching.

Underbust, Below Pectorals - Thin, faded twin scars, only slightly discolored with time. Obtained during mastectomy surgery associated with gender reassignment (age 21).

Mid-Abdomen, Above Navel - Small, slightly puckered circular wound. Obtained from a gunshot in the line of duty during a police raid in which Connor acted to protect his partner. No complications. The bullet did not hit any major organs.

[replicantdeviancy]

                 @yourpoweranimal || > ˢᵘᵇʳᵒᵘᵗᶦᶰᵉ ᴵᶰᶦᵗᶦᵃᶫᶦᶻᵃᵗᶦᵒᶰ  - ˾ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ  ̚   - ᴱˣᵉᶜᵘᵗᵉ

                  There was a moment of startled pause, one quiet & almost contemplative & Connor blinked no less than thrice in succession as Alana’s response settled into his sleep deprived brain. A small, surprised chuckle followed, childlike smile & a little goofy when worn on such a classically pretty visage as his. There was a genuineness to it, the way his amusement slowly smoothed into a more placid expression, one more composed, yet no less pleasantly warmed of his interest. Banished were the thoughts of apology, of making excuses for brain fog which had slowly accumulated over the last few sleepless nights. It was nobody’s fault but his own, he would say -  Connor had a habit of thinking too much. True, it was paramount towards the continued success when aiding the BSU in their endeavors, but the lack of proper rest or motivation to stop for food did dampen things at times.

                  The detective felt just a little better then, about the situation as a whole, not simply that singular instance. He was glad to have confided in Alana rather than bothering the others. Will had more than enough on his plate at any given moment & while he trusted Beverly, Jimmy & Zee, but he preferred not to trouble anyone unnecessarily. The psychiatrist happened to be in the right place at the right time; that was all, easy as that. This fact, however, didn’t negate the desire to press just a little. Perhaps he might take advantage of this opportunity & use it to gain further insight into Alana Bloom, a woman whom was regarded in high acclaim but rarely was the detective able to speak with. He thought he would like to get to know her a little better, if he were permitted.

                   ❝ Is ‘both’ an option? ❞   the younger replied, a hint of teasing to his warm demeanor, the dusky charm in his voice.   ❝ If you don’t mind, that is. I’m sorry if this sounds forward; I wanted to ask you for coffee or something some time but the opportunity never really presented itself until now. ❞   There was a hint of a boyish shyness which was displayed expertly as hazelnut gaze dipped & rose, demure & feigning towards the unsure.   ❝ You seemed like an interesting person, Dr. Bloom. I think I’d like to get to know you better. ❞   It was flirtatious, though not superficially. This wasn’t the type of flirtation a man his age would usually engage in, that which was physically motivated & shallow. Connor wasn’t looking for a hookup, but the sincerity was not lacking either, merely redirected. He was coaxing her with his boyish charm but he was observant the whole time, testing. He wanted her to discover his game, but apart from that Connor did seek earnest friendship of this intriguing colleague.

[replicantdeviancy]

                  It hadn’t taken much time to track her down - Dr. Hannibal Lecter’s own therapist, the enigma that played some as of yet unknown role in all of this. The detective had his considerations, mere unfounded theories brought into fruition with the speculative capacity of boundless imagination, of hypothetical ideological leaps to tether what most could not tether. Making an appointment was less difficult than anticipated with Dr. Bedelia Du Maurier no longer in the practice of psychiatry - as easy as a house call. Crawford had set it up & blessedly did not ask questions. The man had started to learn better than to press qualms over the detective’s work practices or inclinations. Connor was grateful he had earned that kind of respect.

                  He greeted the woman at the door with a placid, warm smile & removed his sunglasses, braving the bright morning light that forced him to squint just a little to acknowledge her with the due amount of respect. It made his smile appear more charming, crinkling the edges of his eyes.   ❝ Good morning, Dr. Du Maurier, ❞   he offered her a small nod of regard, the slight widening of his smile.   ❝ My name is detective Connor Arkeit. Jack Crawford spoke with you about my visiting. ❞   He was cheerful in spite of the exhaustion in his body, a constancy of a sunny disposition, but not overly so. Positive.   ❝ I was hoping I might borrow a few moments of your time. May I come in? ❞

@shadowsxetxlies​  💙 ‘d for a starter.

[replicantdeviancy]

Reconstructions Analysis:

Connor’s reconstructions are like a complete experience to him, something concocted by the mind from evidence collected & manifested in his minds eye in such vivid detail it seems almost real. He chooses to observe from a third person perspective, though if he decides upon it he can enter the point of view of the perpetrator or the victim. He has developed this ability as such that he can freely wander the scene & use that capability to help piece the puzzle together & find more clues in that state of being, things that were moved or no longer present, etc.

Externally he is capable of semi-cognizant meandering & can even respond when spoken to, but his verbal replies will be stiff & stilted. When he is in this state, all higher brain function is dedicated entirely to the reconstruction & only his most basic functions are left in reality. Essentially, the parts of the brain which control the automated functions like heartbeat, breathing & the like (Medulla Oblongata, Brain Stem, etc) are effectively (partially) separated temporarily from those which control imagination, memory, speech, & process cognitive thought (Frontal, Cerebral, Temporal, etc). In-depth conversation will not be possible, at least with any real level of participation from Connor until he’s fully present & aware of his surroundings again in reality, & anything discussed will not be recalled. Basically, speaking to him in this state would be like speaking to someone who sleep-talks.

Connor has the full capacity to feel & experience the point of view of anyone he inserts himself into during the reconstruction, which is precisely why he no longer does so. After a particularly troubling case in which he was tasked with reconstructing a serial killer & human trafficker’s point of view in order to profile him for a proceeding trial, Connor suffered a psychotic break. He was forced to take leave for some time from work & struggled for months disassociating his true self from the delusion of this murderer’s madness. For a time Connor felt himself not only capable, but considering following the same gruesome acts performed by this killer, which terrified him to no end. Because of his own diagnosed disorders, Connor is perfectly aware he is & has always been capable of heinous acts without any emotion or remorse, but he chooses to follow a better moral compass instilled upon him by other, more mentally sound individuals. He no longer inserts himself into the killer’s perspective unless absolutely necessary, because he doesn’t ever want to feel himself urged towards something his true self doesn’t actually want to do.

Note:

This isn’t to say that he hasn’t killed people, but it was always in the line of duty. However, he has never attached any emotion to the acts except for a single incident involving his partner. Hank Anderson was kidnapped & beaten with the intention of killing him as his partner, Connor, was forced to watch. Connor killed the kidnapper, a former member of a drug trafficking ring in Detroit previously disbanded by Anderson in his earlier years on the force. Connor’s was not an act of protection; it was cold blooded revenge fueled by an outraged anger & he killed the perpetrator as if he were executing him. This incident prompted his second psychiatric evaluation (His first was during training at the DPD Academy); his second failure. The outcome of the exam & recommendations were overruled by Director Amanda Stern, who deemed Connor still fit for duty in spite of his actions. He was placed on temporary leave for mental wellness & returned to action within the month. To this day he still feels nothing besides a faint sense of protective self-righteousness & if put in the same position he would not only repeat his actions, he would done it faster.

Note:

Due to his diagnosed mental disorders of Antisocial Personality Disorder & selective (dark) empathy, during inserted POV reconstructions are the only times in which he truly feels emotion on a heightened level, or rather to the level a normal, neurotypical individual would experience. Because of this be can be disoriented & emotionally unstable after a reconstruction, as he isn’t entirely equipped to handle that kind of emotional stimulation, even though a part of his brain certainly is. Eventually he will return to his usual calm, polite & outwardly sunny self, though inside he is more or less numbed.

[replicantdeviancy]

                  Sitting silently in the waiting area awash of greys & small niceties which brought out a pensive state of contemplation, Connor was left to his own thoughts. He imagined that was very much the intention of the design, as the multiple chairs lined against the wall gave off a sense of anticipation, expectancy for company that likely was not to come. It was funny how the curious mind picked up on little details as the body idled, eyes wandering over surfaces & items already viewed many times since his entrance into the space. Connor was an inquisitive thing by nature, always seeking answers to questions only partially formed, letting the narrative unfold before him as the complete picture became known to him. He chose not to make any preconceived notions in his head of the man he was to see today, a psychiatrist whom had been working in congruence with Jack Crawford’s associates for some time. He wanted to build a profile of him in his mind all his own, but one could not help as conjecture became speculation.

                  Keen hearing picked up the faint sound of voices beyond the door; two male, one higher & enthused in a somewhat manic kind of way, eager & timid all at once. Too bold. The other was deeper, mildly monotone & held the hints of an accent Connor could not place without hearing it properly. He hummed in thought & glimpsed at his smartwatch. Ten til six - his appointment would begin shortly. As usual he was early, as he had been raised to be prompt & held an appreciation for punctuality. It wouldn’t do to be unprepared & rush things. He considered himself & his own preparedness as he sat, his eyes leaving the door in favor of a painting across the way from his chosen middle seat. No one else would be joining him.

                  It had been some years since he had met with a psychiatrist on his own, the last being an evaluation for the Detroit Police. His second failure - it was almost laughable now, thinking about that time. How frazzled the psychiatrist - what had her name been, again? - had become when Director Stern had overridden her recommendations to the department. Crazy, but not so much so that he could not be put to some use. Baffling. Any rational society would have put himself & his brothers into care & monitored them close, but Amanda understood him. She understood his particular brand of crazy was useful.

                  A breathy little sound escaped his throat, exhaled through his nose as he smiled. Nearly laughter, not so bold. Where had that come from? Connor hadn’t thought about this kind of thing in some time, rarely interested in self care or self analysis over that of the monsters he hunted. He supposed being in a place like this brought that out in people; self assessment, the individual judging their own minds before the professional could have a look. Connor did wonder what this one might discover, if his assessments would mirror those of the people back at home.

                  Voices faded & footsteps wandered - two pairs, one heavier, one light - traveling in the opposite direction of the door at his right. The last session had ended. He checked his watch again. 6 o’clock; right on time. The detective released a shallow breath as a sigh & double checked to be sure his phone in his pocket had been silenced. Steps neared the door, a single set now. Quieter, fleet of foot. The door opened & a tall man greeted him. Middle aged, neatly manicured & well dressed, hair short & ash blonde. The detective stood & turned to face him, offering a passive yet sunny smile. This man’s demeanor was charming & welcoming, but his eyes---   ❝ Good evening. You must be Dr. Hannibal Lecter. ❞   ---there was no light inside of them.   ❝ Connor Arkeit. I’ve been working with Jack Crawford’s team. ❞   Connor moved forward to enter the room, to extend his own greeting. The warmth which rolled off of himself in waves was practiced, but genuine enough. Real enough to fool people into believing his sincerity was a constant.   ❝ It’s very nice to meet you. ❞   That darkly curious part of Connor mused upon whether or not the doctor could see him for what he was.

@personsuited​

[replicantdeviancy]

something happened today. - connor, hannibal

                                    @intuitkiller | Unknown Source | Not Accepting

                  Something. There was context behind that word, a litany of quiet murmurs not yet distinguished as woes or hints of graces. Will & he had not been together that afternoon, the profiler ordered on his separate way while his detective counterpart was made useful at the request of the forensics entourage. Jack’s group - Bev, Jimmy, & even Zee - were an intriguing trio to work with, always able to relieve the tension which hung in the morgue like a ghostly presence with a bit of quirky gallows humor. Connor, being younger & quite the witty creature, found he fit right in. Nevertheless, he had missed Will throughout the day, as his absence was easily noticed. There was no looming sense of nervousness tingling in the air, no reclusive figure brooding inquisitively in the corner of the room, eyes shy yet affixed intently to the corpse as his mind played ever more disturbing images in an encompassing loop.

                  It was no secret that Will had been getting worse since the detective had first joined the team, though in the beginning Connor had yet to properly establish a baseline to determine for himself the extent of this worsening. He observed well, watched as the claims made by other members of the team came to fruition in their presence, the evasive, anxious behavior & quickness to crassness in order to push others away, abstain from human contact for any longer than he deemed completely necessary. It was eye opening - Will wasn’t like that around Connor. He was shy, yes, even a little crass, but he wasn’t a fidgeting ball of anxiety only barely able to hold a functional conversion. He was a gentleman, if not a little impulsive & a bit forward. He was honest, & that was what Connor liked about him, but he had been keeping secrets which pertained to his health, both mental & physical, as of late. It wasn’t his fault. The detective didn’t blame him for any of it. After all, how could one speak the truth when they did not know what the truth was?

                  But Will had been hallucinating more & more lately, not mere images built of imagination of which he might easily snap out of. They had become almost corporeal, almost real & indistinguishable from materiality. He had woken up trembling like a leaf & drenched in his own sweat, & sometimes he did not wake up at all when his body moved of it’s own accord. He had begun sleepwalking even in daylight, losing minutes or even hours of time. So it was when Connor had come through the door & he spotted Will sitting on his bed in the dim firelight & spoke those words to him, the detective feared the worst.

                  There was caution in his steps as he slowly approached, not in regards to Will - no, never towards Will - but the situation. He feared hearing something he did not want to, feared that something terrible might have happened while he was far from the profiler, leaving him vulnerable to the darkening whims of his mind. Yet as he drew closer there were no signs of anything to fret over, no injuries or even disheveled clothing. Curious & concerned all at once, Connor slowly lowered himself to the bed to sit at Will’s side & he reached to rest his hand over the others.  ❝ Oh yeah? ❞   he responded in kind & a slow breath escaped with it.   ❝ Something good, I hope. ❞   He hoped. God, he hoped, but with the reluctant manner of the profiler’s confession, Connor felt himself losing a bit of that hope.

[replicantdeviancy]

will i see you again? -connor (hannibal)

                                      @intuitkiller​ | SOFT ANGST | Accepting

                  This hadn’t been the plan. Leaving Virginia after only a few short months to be returned to his home of Detroit city hadn’t come as a surprise, not at all, yet it hadn’t been anticipated the stint away would come so quickly to it’s conclusion. But then, what plan had there been in the first place? Had there ever been a plan? Connor wished he could say there had been, defy the truth of things & complain for the sake of complaining, for the knowledge that he would be leaving behind a purpose found & not easily dismissed, but he knew it was false. There had been no conclusion expected, no decisions made beyond the tenuously scant hope of further togetherness. But after the emergence of a recent case which required his expertise, his special talents, Connor knew there would be no excuse great enough to keep him from his departure.

                  He would be forced to leave Will, let him go. Even though the two of them knew it would be brief at best, or some time at worst, it was not the end. But it felt like it; like an ending. It was the complete cessation of a linear path traveled side by side between the two of them.

                  Connor was to make the expedition home the next evening on the last flight to Detroit Metro - He had managed at least that much, another 24 hours with the person whom had, in only a mere week of knowing one another, become the center of a new universe known to the detective. WIll Graham had begun as a partner, temporary & assigned by the bureau at the command of Jack Crawford, & in only a few short days their relationship blossomed from a single seed if curiosity planted, flowering into something beautiful. Leaving him now felt as if winters icy breath had chilled the bud, but their affection was not so easily silenced, & would not be forced away into the hibernation of reclusivity, of career obligations.

                  Connor looked at Will then with all the love & adoration he could muster in his sorrow-filled eyes & a small, wan smile was granted as his grip tightened softly at the point of their mutual touch.   ❝ You couldn’t keep me away, ❞   he promised & the profiler’s hand was brought to his lips, tender kisses pressed to rough knuckles. Connors lips were always so soft, nicely warm. He was always so mindful of Will’s feelings, even when it was clear that inside he was falling apart.   ❝ I’ll call you. Every day if you want me to. ❞   Happily, even if he were swamped with work & far, far too busy to truly make time he would contact Will. Though their relationship, what it was becoming, would be forced into the heart rending annals of long distance romance, the young detective was determined to make it work. How charming, how delightfully naïve. Even now Connor showed his age, when so often on the field it was difficult to recall that he was still only in his twenties, still so green in the world of law enforcement.

                  The kid was ambitious & stubborn, perhaps even more stubborn than the profiler himself. Connor Arkeit was not the type of man who liked to lose & he would not relent to the forces that be when his feelings were part of the deal. Never before had anyone known him so well, could understand him so completely. Will Graham was his mirror image, his other self, a missing piece Connor had never known was absent until he walked into the profilers office months ago & introduce himself as his partner. To know that his other self was so far away in the Virginia rurals wasn’t good enough - Connor could never be satisfied with that. He wanted Will in his arms, at his side.    ❝ I’ll come back, ❞    he assured. He wanted to be with him always.    ❝ I don’t think it’s too much to say that I love you. ❞    It was in that moment Connor swore to himself this was nothing but a steppingstone towards something better, something permanent.    ❝ I love you, Will Graham. ❞     He was going to make this work, & if he spent the rest of his life achieving it he would make Will his forever.