#(yvonne is being normal)

[moogghost]

accept your future path wasn't yours to be chosen.

[addictsitter]

Chambers (2019) | episode five: "murder on my mind"

"i'm sorry. i..." "i don't blame you."

[yvonnesrespite]

Too bad, so sad. Yvonne is out again before Zayne could question her on what in the name of Astra’s ripe cheeks she just said. Alas, a magician never reveals their tricks! Abracadabra, she’s gaslighting him! Better yet, Yvonne can add another time she made her colleagues choke on their drink with the things she says.

At the end of her shift, she sees that Zayne is clocking out at around the same time. Oh, it’s time. As she walks out to the lobby of the hospital in her casual wear, Yvonne waits for Zayne. As soon as she sees him, she gives him a smile and a normal greeting. A completely typical, no out-of-the-blue nonsense greeting. Much like how she totally wasn’t messing with him earlier. He doesn’t get paid enough. There needs to be extra benefits specifically for working with Yvonne regularly. So many could use that.

“Hey Zayne! Clocking out now huh?” She asks and happily approaches he-who-looks-absolutely-grumpy-and-dead-inside. But that’s just Zayne. Not very emotive. Never really scared Yvonne as much.

That being said, the sight of Yvonne and Zayne hanging out is usually enough to be unsettling to others. Are they plotting? Judging you? No. Yvonne just called this man a bunch of rapper based names. Emphasis on based.

Professionalism; That’s what the staff at Akso are known for. Always efficient, careful with their patients, and mindful of whatever situations or circumstances are thrown at them. They’re held in high regard, especially Dr. Zayne. Many would be intimidated by him. Even those who’ve known him for a while can be a bit spooked by the guy on occasion. Then there’s a few that have the “guts” to mess with him without the fear of facing his wrath.

Because there isn’t really much wrath there. Though that’s only known by a certain “inner circle” at Akso. Dr. Zayne, Greyson, and Yvonne. They’re very well respected and admired, but they’ll be damned if there’s a day where any of them are working together and there aren’t at least some form of workplace shenanigans. Sure, a little random rubber duck on a desk can bring a laugh in most workplaces, but there’s a bit of a, erm, unique sparkle to whatever the hell happens between these three. Though, Yvonne is usually going a liiiiittle beyond with her jokes. In harmless ways.

Mostly harmless.

Today she has the perfect plan. Poor Zayne. She’d usually give Greyson the worst of it but he’s out and busy. So she decided to poke the polar bear, aka “Zayne the Terrifying.” Not terrifying. Just has a real bad case of resting bitch face but honestly, who wouldn’t have that after the grueling and tedious years of med school? 

On this glorious, g l o r i o u s day, Yvonne walks down the hall and sees Zayne headed in the opposite direction to pass her. As they pass each other, she greets him with a casual “Good day, Slim Zaynie!”

And she just keeps walking to wherever her duties called her, as if the nickname wasn’t out of the blue (of Astra’s left t-).

With all the time Zayne has spent in the hospital with Yvonne around, he can say that he's used to her random mischief and general silliness, which is welcome in an environment that can get quite heavy.

The first time they interacted, he wasn't sure if he could ever get along with her, but by now, he finds it strange and sort of empty whenever she doesn't have a shift. He could say she's a friend.

That doesn't mean her antics have become any less impactful, if anything, since now she knows him better, she can mess with him more effectively.

He heads towards his office, seeing Yvonne walking in the opposite direction. He nods as a greeting. Then hears her.

He furrows his brow, turning around.

"Pardon? What did you say?" He doesn't ask in an angry way, but in an extremely confused way.

If he heard correctly, what does that nickname even mean? Slim? He hasn't been skipping his workouts. Or is she trying to 'gaslight' him (a word Greyson had to explain to him) like that one time when Yvonne made him believe his tie was blue instead of green?

[frosted-hyacinth]

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒

Yandere!villains are destined to die x f!reader

notice! This book can be read as gn or m reader but I personally envision the reader as a female, however, there are no particular pronouns but maybe some actions that are more feminine.

synopsis. You wake up as a maid for the Eckhart house, the only thing is, you're the adopted daughter's maid. Penelope Eckhart. You had been playing a game 'Daughter of the Duke, Love Project' you'd finished normal mode and started hard mode yet you died, being accused of Yvonne's murder. You felt confident that you could breeze through this, living but there was something off. Penelope Eckhart's personality has completely flipped.

You shocked up from the bed, panting heavily. You looked around. You hadn't been here before yet it felt familiar. You looked more closely at your surroundings, stepping out of the bed to look out the window.

It's the empire from that game... No... This can't be

You shook your head, half expecting this to be a dream and that you would wake up. But you didn't, you were still here in this dark, small room. You lightly slapped your cheeks and when that didn't work either, you hit harder. You wanted to feel the comfort of your own room, your own bed. Instead of that, all you felt was the sharp stinging of the impact slowly fading away leaving you with only the hard reality. This fictional life, one that did not belong to you was now the one that you are in.

- ♥ -

After a while of trying to fall back asleep, you realized that you couldn't, so you decided to be productive. You lit a candle, deciding that you would be productive and decide how you were supposed to behave at this house, a house that seemed to be noble. You'd looked in the mirror a while back and after a while of staring at your reflection, a shard of your memory drifted back. You were a minor maid at house Eckhart.

The maid who's body you were in was a minor character, not much mentioned but the part that this maid played the most part in was with the character Penelope Eckhart. You were the maid that had stood with her even after she had been accused of poisoning the Duke's youngest daughter.

So, in order to survive without either of the male leads or your mistress killing you (not that they could kill a maid before you were charged for maligning nobility and all the other laws in the Eorkan Empire), you must simply play your part and serve the lady Eckhart as you were meant to.

Soon after you had scribbled your thoughts down, the sun had risen. So you stood up off you desk to prepare for the day.

- ♥ -

"Miss, it's time to wake up" The brunette maid spoke to the pink head still sleeping on the bed as she slowly woke up.

knock knock

"... Come in."

You slowly walked into the room, you had arrived to the side of the brown haired maid, Emily, if you recall correctly. Once you finally started taking in your surroundings, you noticed the quality of water that laid on the table beside Penelope. You instinctively reached to change the water but stopped at the sight of your mistress flinching. She rolled up her sleeves just for the three women in the room to be met with the sight of needle marks on her forearm.

You let out a small gasp before stepping forwards towards Penelope seemingly concerned.

"Miss! Are you alright?"

She didn't answer you but she shot her head in Emily's direction. It looked like she tried speaking but stopped, still in a state of distress.

"The bath is ready. Do wash up please, Miss." The brunette haired maid spoke calmly, looking down. Yet when she looked up towards her mistress, a mocking smile was found on her face.

Ah... Did I just get ignored...? You sighed eternally. You hoped that you could have done something yet ended up being completely ignored by both Emily and Penelope, and now, you'd have to leave the room to let your mistress wash up.

From the outside of your mistress' room, you found the food that Emily was about to serve to Penelope. There really wasn't much that you could do but you could at least try, so you put on a calm face and faced the brunette.

"Emily." "Yes?"

"Are you planning to serve this to our mistress? This food is not proper for a duke's daughter. The duke Eckhart could punish you." You said, maintaining eye contact with your fellow maid. A sound of the door beside you creaked open. "Is there a problem?" "No miss." Both maids replied, heads bowed down. You tried grabbing the plate of rotten food away from Emily's grasp but at this point, it was too late, you could no longer stop her from serving the food.

Emily neatly put the rotting food along with a cup of tea on a red checkered cloth.

"Here Miss, sit down. You must be hungry."

With the personality that you'd known the Daughter of the Duke Eckhart had, you expected that you'd have to clean up a fork from the floor or pick up a table after she threw a tantrum. You were definitely mentally prepared for anything but this. She sat in silence and ate the food as you merely stood there in shock, watching her gag slightly as she ate the rotten food.

When she reached the point where she almost vomited, you moved to a spot behind Penelope's chair, grabbing her wrist lightly.

"Miss, you shouldn't continue eating this." You said, brows furrowed, looking at her in concern. You really did hope that she would eating, this wasn't at all good for her health but right at that moment, the young lord; Reynold Eckhart walked in to the room.

"What's going on here?"

He walked up right behind you who was still softly gripping Penelope's wrist, from an angle where he couldn't see anything on the table, he said,

"Hey, what's wrong with..." His voiced trailed off as the table reached his view.

"What in the... ?!" He stared at the food placed on the table with a few small bites in them. He looked up then glared at both you and Emily.

"You were feeding this to her?" His tone was cold enough to freeze your blood on the spot. You had done nothing and you weren't prepared to die yet! You closed your eyes prepared for the impact of either a sword at your throat or guards grabbing you, your ears completely filtering out other words. When you opened your eyes, you were only met with Emily screaming.

"Young Master, no! It wasn't me! I-I wasn't!"

"Get out. Now."

©renwishestofly do not copy, repost, or translate. likes and reblogs are accepted and appreciated! Σ(っ °Д °;)っ Please don't plagiarize this

[cloverandstuff]

MAYA'S FIRST DAY IN ANAKT GARDEN [PART 1]

She doesn't recognise anyone there.

That should have been obvious, of course she wouldn't. But she can't help but take note of it. Some seem to have made connections while others are content on their own. But none are faces she finds familiar.

Maya chooses to sit in a corner, under a tree (are they truly trees? is the grass truly grass? is any of this real-). She is content to watch the kods play. She is content to watch the way this story will end.

Maya takes notes of some of the kids in the meantime.

There was a boy with lengthy pale blue hair and blue eyes, talking rather happily to another kid, who had brown hair and striking gold eyes. Maya can't tell if they were friends...but they looked close to it. Maya can't help but think the scene looked rather sweet. The blue haired kid looked happier to be there than the brunet, but he looked content nonetheless. It was an odd pairing, but they seemed to be friends. She could see smiles, no matter how big nor small. [Innamorati and Macbeth by @alien-til-i-stage ]

(There was another boy, a redhead, who was looking at them from a distance. He seemed fixated on the 'blue one'...to an unhealthy degree. He felt dangerous...almost like he was inevitable. Were the blue and him also friends..?(Toki by @zerostyrant )

There was another duo she took notice of, mostly the girl, hair fading from white to brown, being more..excited, she could say. She was a bright person, there was no doubt about that. The kind that would draw people in. The boy looked rather stoic, as though he was one of those noble aliens Echidna sometimes talked to. But Maya could tell there was also an air of...caution? He even avoided looking her in the eyes...why would he be catious of the girl? Despite this, he let the girl stay around. Thats curious. [Jiu and Kioku by @solei-eclipse]

Maya looks around some more and a child takes up her attention. He looked almost ordinary, with black hair and dark eyes, but there was definitely something...uncanny about him. Like he was an attempt at something resembling human, but not entirely one. He was smiling, and it should by all means look genuine, but Maya couldn't help but find it to be so fake. Ingenuous. Almost like a doll in a way. [Yume by @sotogalmo]

The other boy he was at near felt familiar. Maya could find a sense of resemblance in the boy to someone she had seen before. But this time, he felt more...sane? Was he sane? Was anyone here truly sane? He seemed like one of the more quiet ones...like he was constantly afraid of something happening. (...why did he almost resemble one of those funny dolls Maya had seen before? The ones with strings) [Sebastian by @/sotogalmo ]

There's so many scars she can notice on the kids...are they safer here than they were before? Did some of them even want to be here-

Is that a kid in a tree?

...Dear guardians, it's a kid in a tree. He seems comfortable up there, like he's done this plenty of times before. And he just up there...observing. He had bright red eyes. (It almost seemed like they wouls glow), and beauty marks that looked like the bite marks from one of those crude shows Echidna watched. He seemed normal despite all this, if not shy. Still, he was intriguing if only for his habit of apparently watching from trees. [Ciaran by @starry-skiez ]

....ah, there was a familiar face. Just one Maya had never spoken to. She should have known Yvonne would be here. And she still carried that air of elegance around her...as well as that sense of unhinge. Her muted pink hair was always a sight to see, but Maya never got over the eerie personality of hers...Maybe she changed [Yvonne by @aakaneeee]

Maya's eyes landed on strands of white, with striking pink eyes to pair with them. The girl was staring up at the clouds (were the clouds eve real?...suppse it doesn't matter to the girl) . She seemd content in her activity. It looked peaceful. [Asahi by @apriciticreveries ]

There was another child by her side, also content. Maya could note that there were moments where seemed to communicate something to the other one using her hands rather than her words. It makes her curious on how she made it into the garden in the first place. [Yumi by @rockwgooglyeyes ]

A loud vpice caught her attention, and Maya turned to look at a rather fragile looking girl, with brown hair, only interrupted by a streak of yellow. She looked cheerful...almost like she would tackle someone to the ground out of sheer affection. But Maya felt like something deeper was lurking, like she had her own secrets she wanted to keep...Still, she seemed to be a lind soul. [Nene by @junebluues]

Ah, there. There was a boy who looked like he didn't want to be there. There was no sense of honor or want that Maya could see on the surface. He simply didn't wish to be there. Bandages wrapped around his hands, but Maya couldn't see if there was blood from where she was sitting. He did seem to be fiddling with some sort of technolody in his hands, useless if not for the fidgeting. [Xael by @junebluues ]

Beside him was another boy, though he looked more friendly than the other one. He seemed fond of his...friend(???) regardless. He seemed happy to be there, and rather brighter tha his counterpart....they were cute together. [Numa by @spcells]

[louroth]

Patreon Gone Public: Voice Actor Dreamcast

This was a treat to put together, and I spent too many hours pouring over different voice actors and their roles to catch a golden nugget of what I really think embodies each character. I'm pleased to say that the voice clips are not only canon for their voices, but also in actual dialogue, what they say in those clips. 

Swap some names or locations, and it's them. Yes, I am absolutely being normal about this! Why won't you let me chew on your arm? ...Just a little bit?

Pre death Leith:  Adam Lazzare-White as Jacob Taylor in Mass Effect

Pre death Leila: Maggie Baird as Samara in Mass Effect

Yor: Keith Ferguson as Lord Saladin in Destiny 2

Yana: Claudia Black as Morrigan in Dragon Age: Inquisition

M!Auryn: Richard Armitage as Trevor Belmont in Castlevania

F!Auryn: Yvonne Strahovski as Miranda Lawson in Mass Effect

Sene: Anthony Howell as Gaspard De Chalons in Dragon Age: Inquisition (but also voices Morgott in Elden Ring which is... fitting)

Selene:Corinne Kempa as Leliana in Dragon Age: Inquisition

Idren: Brandon Keener as Garrus Vakarian in Mass Effect

Ida: Cree Summer as Exo Female in Destiny 2 (also the voice of Kida in Atlantis which is JUST *chefs kiss* perfect but I couldn't find a line that fit Ida's personality. This is more showing of their...path within Ouro.)

For Leith/Custom's voices post death and as they are in the present, you'll find those on my Patreon.

Hope you enjoyed :>

[darerendevil]

Excerpts:

Do the characters Murphy plays stay with him? He talks about playing Tommy Shelby on Peaky Blinders for a decade. “By the fifth or sixth season he would be driving the car, not me ... I understood the character so well that sometimes he would make the choices, not me.” He laughs. “That sounds really pretentious and wanky, but that’s the truth.”

Murphy’s wife, Yvonne McGuinness, is a visual artist, and one of their two sons, Aran, who is 16, has been cast in Taika Waititi’s adaptation of the Kazuo Ishiguro novel Klara and the Sun. At home “there’s an awful lot of discussion about books and plays and shows”, says Murphy. “That’s always been the way if you’re two artists who are in a relationship – and then, naturally, the kids get stuck with it.”

Has he been enjoying the ceremonies? “Much, much more than I anticipated,” he says. “And mostly because you meet all these people whose work you’ve admired and watched throughout the year, and you get to have a really good chat about this sort of stuff, about art and music and making things, and that’s been, for me, the best part ...“I will say that it’s been so brilliant being out there and seeing all this amazing Irish talent, seeing Barry Keoghan and Andrew Scott and Paul Mescal, and then Ed Guiney and Andrew Lowe, who produced Poor Things. It is a staggering footprint we have on the world of cinema.”

“I think the most important thing is that we support and encourage and promote the next round, the next generation, all these young film-makers and actors who are coming up,” he says. “I think Screen Ireland is doing a good job of that, and I think the Government has got to keep funding it. I think it’s up to my generation, too, to encourage the next. I remember working with Brendan Gleeson [early on], and he was the most open, patient, kind man. He gave me a lift home and really listened to me when I asked him questions. He had no need to do that.”

Is he more conscious of that because Aran is now in the acting world too? “I am,” he says. He pauses and adds: “And he did that on his own ... It’s the next generation are the most exciting ones. Barry Keoghan and Paul Mescal, it’s kind of staggering how good they are.”

Is he nervous about the Oscar ceremony? “I get nervous, but there’s nothing you can do. I mean, the die is cast, and what will be will be. You just try to have a good night.” But he’d like an Oscar, right? He laughs and then smiles enigmatically. “No comment.”

[dawnbreakersgaze]

In honor of Greyson getting a profile on the in game social media site, and his icon being a cute little bandaged bear, I'm sharing this little drabble I wrote for my favorite ⭐️ Anon ages ago and never shared lol

I'm so totally normal about Dr. Greyson 🥺

It's honestly the talk of Akso at this point. The medical staff is pretty tight-knit, and Dr. Greyson is universally loved around every department and clinic, so it's no wonder that everyone is trying to help him win the affections of one particular head surgeon.

"Have you tried taking him to that new cat café? I've heard that anyone who goes there and gets the blessing of the white cat ends up falling in love forever."

"Maybe take him to the bookstore downtown? They have a collection of older medical texts he'd totally enjoy browsing."

"Try just inviting him to dinner? Dr. Zayne seems like he'd be more old-fashioned to me. Like you need to wine and dine him first."

Greyson has of course heard it all at this point. And it's not that the advice is bad or that he's ungrateful, it's just that the man he's trying to catch the attention of has the thickest blinders he's ever wittnessed, and it might just be driving him crazy? It is, however, endearing that everyone is trying so hard.

Though maybe a little too hard, he thinks, as he overhears Yvonne telling Dr. Zayne about an incredibly irate patient he'd managed to talk down from a dangerous situation the day prior. She was of course taking liberties, recounting how he'd managed to get the sharp object from the patient before he could hurt himself or anyone else, and had gently guided him back into his room and tended to his emotional needs as well as his medical ones.

"Are we talking about the young man with the safety scissors and the teddy bear he stole from his roommate? I definitely didn’t hear that story in such a colourful retelling yesterday." Greyson doesn't need to see Dr. Zayne's face to hear the tell-tale sign of the little quirk of his lip and raise of his brow. Normally a sight he'd relish of course but this....

The "help" of the Akso staff might just kill him honestly.

[peterlorrefanpage]

Peter Lorre in musical/noir "Casbah" (1948)

"It gave him a new dimension to expand his own acting career."

Peter Lorre as Detective Slimane with Tony Martin as Pépé le Moko (also, wouldn't this be great as a paper doll set?)

Peter looking devilishly divine with that little whippy stick of his that I am 100% normal about...

Such a dear face:

LOTS more under the cut!

Believing Lorre a “dyed-in-the-wool good actor,” Tony Martin, who independently produced Casbah with Nat C. Goldstone, gave the actor room to rework his dialogue: “The night before, when he would get the script, he’d say, ‘I’d like to make this or that change.’ And he’d do it.” Director John Berry likewise, in Martin’s words, “let Lorre have the strength” to carry out his own ideas. The actor welcomed the freedom as well as the opportunity to assume a more contemporary role. “I like the role I’m playing now,” [Lorre] told Martin, “because all I’m doing is being a pursuer.” Martin added that the role was also a challenge: “He loved it, being the great actor that he was. It gave him a new dimension to expand his own acting career and to get out of that Sydney Greenstreet thing he was in. . . . It caught him with a sense of humor and a tenderness. - From "The Lost One: A Life of Peter Lorre" by Stephen D. Youngkin

"Singing his way through a string of minor musical-comedies had not prepared Martin for a dramatic debut. He knew he needed help. Lorre cast a spell over the actor and then snapped his fingers: “In those days, the black and white pictures, the close-ups, he could hypnotize you, and he could lull you into a deep inner peace. "We'd do a take and I'd be rotten. He’d say, ‘You know, you’re the worst fucking actor I’ve ever seen.’ I’d say, ‘Really?’ He’d say, ‘Yes, nobody worse.’ And we’d start to laugh and the director would say, ‘Alright, let’s go,’ and I’d do a good scene. He had a way of putting me down. He had a psychological way. And we had dinner every night." - From "The Lost One: A Life of Peter Lorre" by Stephen D. Youngkin

With Thomas Gomez as Louvain:

With Yvonne De Carlo as Inez:

Joined by Märta Torén as Gaby:

With Märta Torén again (and guh, those eyes of his):

Alas, poor Pépé! (But oh, the beautiful brow of our Peter.)

From Ruth Waterbury’s review in the Los Angeles Examiner:

“Lorre as the Inspector who knows he is going to get his man Pepe is utterly wonderful. He’s lazy. He’s catlike. And smart out of this world. Lorre is so consistently good in every picture that they will probably forget his work in ‘Casbah’ when next year’s Academy nominations for ‘best supporting performance’ come around. But I hope they don’t. This smooth job belongs right up among the best.” -From "The Lost One: A Life of Peter Lorre" by Stephen D. Youngkin

Want to see it?

[ink-flavored]

for any of the anthology characters <3:

😍Do they like romance? Have they always hated the idea, or are they a swooning hopeless romantic?

🖤What’s the hardest part of love for them?

💜Do they have a “type” of person they tend to date?

💦Is it super obvious when they have feelings for someone, or are they a master at hiding it?

🏃‍♂️Is anybody their “one that got away”? Have they ever “gotten away” from someone else?

well there are only two named characters over both anthologies right now because....i got obsessed with Harlan and Yvonne very fast ddasfdghf

so i'll just do those two!

😍Do they like romance? Have they always hated the idea, or are they a swooning hopeless romantic?

Harlan isn't hopeless, but he does like romance. He likes dates and kisses and the idea of having one person to rely on is comforting.

Yvonne swings closer to hopeless romantic, mostly because she's too nervous most of the time to participate herself. Indulging in romantic fantasy and imagining what it would be like to be swept off her... hooves was her one way of participating in love until she met Harlan.

🖤What’s the hardest part of love for them?

For Harlan, it's being vulnerable for sure. He doesn't like it, it's embarrassing, and ruins his Chill Cool Guy image. But you know, the mortifying ordeal of being known etc. etc. He's working on it.

For Yvonne, it's trust. She has a very hard time trusting other people, even nice people, because of horse anxiety, but also because like... for the first 20-something years of her life she lived with the same group of people and only saw "out-group" individuals a few times a year—must less spoke to them regularly. Despite living in the city for several years, it's hard to unlearn that level of isolation.

💜Do they have a “type” of person they tend to date?

Yvonne has never dated anybody, so not really, but the type of person she tends to be attracted to is pretty consistent. She admires extroverted, outgoing types because they seem impossibly cool and carefree from her anxious perspective. No points for guessing how this relates to Harlan.

Having grown up in a very satyr environment, Harlan's type tends to be "yes", but for romantic prospects he gets a little more specific. He goes for the "ethereal beauty" types, majestic and eye-catching. Being a Clydesdale, it is hard not for Yvonne to be majestic and eye-catching, even when she's not trying.

💦Is it super obvious when they have feelings for someone, or are they a master at hiding it?

Perhaps surprisingly, Harlan is terrible at hiding romantic feelings. All of his chill instantly evaporates and he becomes shy and can't help stuttering over every word. When he tries to hide it, it just becomes more obvious, because he overshoots it every time into "HAHA I'M SO NORMAL!!! RIGHT??"

Yvonne is so nervous all the time that she's able to camouflage her romantic nerves with all the normal horse anxiety. When Yvonne gets awkward and quiet and won't stop staring at her hands you go, yeah that's how she regularly is, must be a bad anxiety day. And technically you're not wrong!!!

🏃‍♂️Is anybody their “one that got away”? Have they ever “gotten away” from someone else?

Yvonne left her herd and everyone she'd ever known, including one close friend that had feelings for her, but wasn't willing to leave the herd behind for an unknown amount of time—considering Yvonne's goals, it may mean many years if not forever. She knew about these feelings, but didn't feel comfortable being in a relationship when she still had so much personal growth to do, both transition-wise and other things, so... it just never happened.

For Harlan, not really. All his relationships have been pretty straightforward, and he's never been left feeling like a relationship didn't meet its potential.

[try out my 100 question romance & love ask game]

[frosted-hyacinth]

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒

Yandere!villains are destined to die x f!reader

synopsis. You wake up as a maid for the Eckhart house, the only thing is, you're the adopted daughter's maid. Penelope Eckhart. You had been playing a game 'Daughter of the Duke, Love Project' you'd finished normal mode and started hard mode yet you died, being accused of Yvonne's murder. You felt confident that you could breeze through this, living but there was something off. Penelope Eckhart's personality has completely flipped.

And I thought that I could depend on knowing your secrets and yet... you're different... - ????

note! I think its a slow burn and the Yandere is mild

Chapter one - I

[kfruityouth]

ok soooo

i’m thinking about jeddie and the clocks

when the green one is given in his telling of the story his father is dead upon his return home

so that leaves two possibilities

he was lying about this while telling sydney

he had already told his father about his plans for the necromancy

i find both so fuckintbfascinating

also the sydney’s death being his fault guilt feels like more than typical self loathing, it looks like sydney was ill, and maybe even before the coma jeddie was trying to “fix” him

as the occult is mentioned as sydney’s specialty i’m wondering specifically about how he and jeddie interacted on basis of sydney’s illness/disability with his practicality and science based wish to fix everyone and sydney’s care for others health above himself

the idea of the architect also

jeddie seems to have taken on the role of the architect before resurrecting sydney

that is important

the memories of the sky being blue

i think as sydney lived with him and lucille is when the “building” of this world to suit sydney began

is this only in effect at the camp?

the compulsive return of the counselors each summer is fascinating along with junipers weird british antiquity leading to an idea that there’s definitely influence of jeddie’s meddling outside of camp, if we are still unsure of how much it is normal to us

the counselors seem to remember life before sydney’s death done, which once again leads me to thinking the meddling started long before then

and the elephant man existed theoretically before the coma i think because of lucille’s testimony

but i may be wrong there

nowwwwwww the magic that existed in the pre meddling world is interesting because i think there was either some interest or actual influence on sydney’s part based on what we’ve heard of jeddie’s journals

and the timeline is obviously confusing but i really want to know more about sydney’s mother

his mother feels like an important piece we haven’t really touched upon the motivations of atorywide and i think the centipede symbolism is her domain

but i’m rambling….

youre so right omg...

so necromancy is highly "illegal" and i assume its a punishable offence, likely by a harsh incarceration or even death (ironic innit), and "did [they] mention impossible?" which has got to be some sort of propaganda or something. necromancy does exist, its just extremely difficult and dangerous--what soren does is chasing necromancy i believe, but he only ends up with reanimation (which is stated to be possible in universe). i just think they push the "necromancy is impossible" line way too much for it not to be, y'know?

also, it seems that necromancy, even discussing real happenings of it can kill someone. if jeddie discussed his necromancy of sydney with his father and killed him, it lines up with how elijah reading the journals to the kids was physically hurting him. but this would also mean his father read the journals himself, and not jeddie reading it to him (bc it would have hurt jeddie otherwise) if this is correct.

im honestly not too sure about the architect thing, i think it might be something to do with like building something (sydney) from the ground up? like turn it off and on again? even the word 'muse' implies that jeddies 'architect' is referencing sydney for, like, blueprints or whatever. metaphorically.

also what you said about the world being built for sydney is insanely interesting!

like, for starters:

juniper doesn't want his father to know he's coming to the camp (which makes me think the properties of the camp are actually known outside of camp)

rowan comes back to camp despite his co-counsellor from the previous year literally being destroyed

soren is paying an absurd amount of money to be at camp (which also makes me think the properties of the camp are known outside of camp--there's obviously something he's there for)

joshua remains despite being widely hated (except by yvonne)

and of course the big one: sydney can't leave camp without feeling physically sick. he says he can't be away from lucille specifically, but i think it's really camp he can't be away from.

and then good lord dont even get me started on the penguins. why are they at camp specifically? is there something there they're trying to achieve?

also, elijah would've existed before the coma according to the file notes and dialogue implications, but iirc according to the timeline, he was only obsessed with sydney post-necromancing (i might try to make a comprehensive timeline one day...)

agh sydney's mother is so interesting... the gravedigress apparently reminds sydney of his mother, so that might. um. come up/have relevance at some point? centipedes are carnivores, too, so... hmmm... anyway

and omg please ramble to your hearts content, your takes are so interesting!!

[montied]

Omg pleaseee tell me about your ocs, listening to people talk about their characters is my fave thing ever

AH hiiii

so. theres uhhh... lots. too many. nevermind its only like. nine. its perhaps an issue. whatever.

SO there is:

Francis

Yvonne

Irene

Anne

Robert

James

Audrey

Vivian

Nelson

I'll just do three main things about each of them so i'm not here for literally ever

Francis (last name is either Harcourt or Beaufort. i'm indecisive)

killed her husband because honestly he sucked

catches the tram which yvonne is often working on to her job at the ford factory

basically kidnapped as a child bc she's indigenous and that was the government's "strategy". that's a whole thing.

Yvonne Kennedy

tram conductress

about as normal as trams as i am about trains

she's chill unless you commit fare evasion. in which case she is Significantly Less Chill. this is partly due to not wanting to lose her job and partly due to her stringent following of rules

Sergeant Irene Lau (my belovedddd)

flight rigger with the waaaf

basically every new acw is terrified of her. not for any logical reason tbh. shes just strict.

the sort of person to get incredibly excited every time she sees a plane (despite literally working on an air base)

Anne Lau

Irene's 14-y/o sister

wants to be a journalist so badly

thinks vivian is So Cool and will do anything to help her

Robert

american marine currently stationed in australia

himbo, but you didnt hear that from me

he and nelson are very good friends

James

ran away from home to trans his gender. as you do

"helps out at the docks" allegedly. no-one has proof of this. what does helping out even entail.

weirdly mysterious + one of the only sensible ones here. well. occasionally.

Audrey!!!!!!!!

i love her but her character is literally entirely based off of vibes atm

loves a good trenchcoat (or a bad trenchcoat. any trenchcoat. hell, any coat)

Vivian Boivin

seems like she should be in a hollywood film.

doesnt have a "proper war job" because her parents think its not Ladylike. she is very salty about this. so she volunteers at the usmc canteen as a civilian and helps out on the same farm nelson works at despite not being meant to do either of these things. like. probably legally.

to describe her in one word? glamorous

Nelson (or Nellie or Addie, depending on who you ask)

land girl. part of the awla.

her family Has Money but differently to vivian's and irene + anne's. her father did Inventing and eventually that went well for him

chaotic mess tbh

anyway thank you for asking and uhh sorry for the really long reply lmao

also @dilfsuzanneyk here you go :3

[kallie-den]

A Commanding Weakness Ch. 5

After accidentally finding out about what Wasp has been doing to the Inyx's crew, Lori Delaney, a petty crewman with problems with authority, runs to tell the exact wrong person: Captain Vasser

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Crewman Lori Delaney made her way to the bridge of the starship Inyx in fits and starts. She sprinted in bursts, pounding the deck beneath her feet because she was running so urgently, but every now and then she stopped - not just to catch her breath, but because she needed to ask herself whether or not she was crazy.

What she’d seen in medbay defied all sense. Dr. Hiraga, Chief Samira Carter, and that dorky science officer, Morgan, acting out some kind of crazy fantasy, dressed in absolutely ludicrous outfits, whilst Wasp, the hacker they were supposed to be hunting, lorded over it all. If someone told Delaney they’d seen something like that, she’d never believe them. Not if they swore on a hundred years of replicator rations.

But she couldn’t dismiss the very last part of what she’d seen. Wasp had some kind of brainwashing device she was going to use to take over the Inyx. And it was almost perfected. Hearing that had made Delaney’s blood run cold. She needed to act, but she was just a petty crewman. She was powerless. She needed help, but if Dr. Hiraga and the ship’s security officer had already fallen, there was no telling who else might already be in the hacker’s clutches.

There was only one person Delaney could think to turn to: Captain Yvonne Vasser.

It was funny. Normally, there was no one Delaney wanted to see less. Captain Vasser was the very worst kind of commanding officer: one who truly believed in all of Alliance Starfleet’s bullshit about protocol, professionalism, and discipline. Most captains would allow a little leniency on a long tour of duty like this. Not Vasser. She was always on Delaney’s ass - about her uniform, about showing up a little late to her duty shifts, and about a hundred other tiny little rules and regulations Delaney didn’t give a shit about. And when it wasn’t her, it was her pet thug, Carter.

Why couldn’t Vasser take the hint, and accept that Delaney was only in this job for the paycheck and the training? And why did she care about petty crewmen in the first place? Didn’t she have more important things to pay attention to?

In a situation like this, though, Delaney couldn’t imagine anyone else she’d sooner tell. Captain Vasser was a legend. A machine. She was untouchable. Even if everyone else on the Inyx fell to Wasp, she’d fight tooth and nail to set them free. Delaney was sure that Captain Vasser would know exactly what to do.

“Where’s the captain?” Delaney demanded as she rushed out of the turbolift and onto the bridge.

Heads turned, every one of them looking at her like she was suicidal. She had no business being here, after all.

“Captain Vasser is in her ready room,” said Lieutenant Kuznetzov, in a voice cold enough to freeze the air between them. “But I would remind you, crewman, that-“

“Great, thanks.”

Delaney grit her teeth as she interrupted and dashed past him. She really hoped she wasn’t crazy because if not, she was seriously going to pay for that.

Before anyone could stop her, Delaney raced into the ready room. Once she was inside and the door slid closed behind her, she found herself alone with Captain Vasser. The captain was sitting behind her desk and looked up at Delaney with an impossibly stern, displeased expression on her face.

“Crewman,” she said in a warning tone. “Just because I do not lock my door, does not mean you should presume to-“

“Forget that!” Delaney cut her off.

She paled slightly as she watched Captain Vasser’s eyebrow raise higher than she’d ever seen it. However, the captain seemed to sense her urgency, and gave her a chance to speak.

“Captain, I saw something,” Delaney began. “Just now, down in medbay. I…” She paused, wishing she’d spent more time thinking about exactly what to say. “It’s Wasp. She’s infiltrated the ship. And she’s doing something to people. I don’t know what, exactly. But she’s in their heads. She’s controlling them.”

Delaney paused to catch her breath. She half expected Captain Vasser to query something, or else yell at her for telling tall tales. Instead, the captain just stared at her with an odd, vacant look in her eyes. Delaney couldn’t tell what that meant, but it made her nervous.

“I swear, Captain,” she added quickly. “I really saw it. You have to believe me. We’re all in danger. That’s why I came running in here. I couldn’t tell anyone else, I couldn’t even use my communicator. We don’t know who else might be-“

Suddenly, Captain Vasser bolted to her feet. Delaney broke off mid-flow but then tried again. “Captain, please, I-“

“I believe you, Crewman Delaney,” Captain Vasser said, somewhat stiffly. Relief swept over Delaney. “And you did the right thing by bringing this directly to me. You must not tell anyone else. Now follow me.”

She started walking at a brisk, purposeful pace, out of the ready room and toward the turbolift. Delaney moved quickly to follow her. In that moment, she could have kissed Captain Vasser she was so grateful to be believed. She wasn’t sure where the captain was taking her, but it was an immense relief to see that she seemed to have some kind of plan for contingencies like this. For once, Delaney was glad to have a hard-ass as a captain.

As they crossed the bridge, Delaney caught plenty of dirty, impressed, or downright incredulous looks. The officers must have been wondering why she wasn’t currently being chewed out for insubordination. Captain Vasser ran a tight ship, though, and as such, none of them dared to question her. They just busied themselves with their assigned tasks, and so Captain Vasser and Delaney made it into the lift without comment. From there, they headed down into the Inyx’s decks. Delaney didn’t think to ask where they were going until, after they left the turbolift and started walking again, she realized what they were heading for.

The holodeck.

“Uh, captain?” Delaney ventured as they stepped over the threshold. “What are we doing here?”

All too late, she was giving thought to how Captain Vasser had seemed during the walk down. She had been oddly quiet, and unnaturally serene. Delaney had assumed she was simply trying not to give the game away, but it was starting to seem like more than that. Captain Vasser was behaving more like a robot than a person. It was almost like she was-

“Computer, seal the holodeck,” Captain Vasser said. Her voice was chillingly monotonous. “My authorization. Hold all communications. Load up and engage scenario Wasp One.”

“Wasp…”

The penny dropped. Delaney turned back toward the door, only to see it slide closed and hear the heavy-duty mechanical locks slam into place. She was trapped. A beat later, the holodeck’s many, many highly sophisticated holographic projectors hummed to life. At her rank, Delaney didn’t get a lot of holo-rec time, but she was still familiar enough to brace herself for the walls and floor shifting and dissolving into a new scene. Instead, though, all that happened was that a single hologram appeared in the space between Delaney and Captain Vasser.

It was Wasp. She looked just as she had in medbay, complete with the bizarre, regal, latex costume that was such a strange match for her neon green hair and punk looks.

Now Delaney knew she wasn’t crazy. She just really really wished she was.

“Well, I guess this was always going to happen,” Wasp complained, throwing up her arms and looking straight at Delaney. “But you really picked your moment, you know that? Right as I was finishing up all the preparations.” She glanced at Captain Vasser and snickered. “Good thing your trusted captain knew exactly what to do. Or rather, good thing I programmed her with exactly what to do.”

“You…” Delaney paled. “What the fuck? What the fuck is going on?”

“Oh, well, allow me to fill you in!” Wasp bowed mockingly. “At least, as soon as I…”

She snapped her fingers, and her bizarre, latex getup phased out of existence, replaced with an outfit that was equally conspicuous, but far more in keeping with the hacker’s usual style.

“Basically, I’m in your ship’s computer,” Wasp explained. “I’m running the Inyx. All of it. The only thing around here I don’t control is the crew. At least, not yet. But I’m working on it. Turns out, if you know how, getting into a person’s head isn’t so much harder than getting into a computer.”

Delaney shook her head in disbelief as Wasp crowed. She reached up and slapped the communicator badge on her chest.

“Emergency channel,” she said urgently. “This is Crewman Delaney to the bridge. Delaney to the bridge. Do you read me?”

There was no response except the sound of Wasp’s laughter.

“See?” she mocked. “Believe me now?”

Delaney balled her hands into fists. She felt powerless, and it was pissing her off. She looked at Wasp. No point punching a hologram. She looked at Captain Vasser. She was clearly a puppet. She looked back at the door. Locked, and military-grade.

There was no way out.

Delaney didn’t understand. This didn’t seem possible. Up until half an hour ago, this had just been a normal day. She was struggling to make sense of it all.

“You… you have…” she said slowly. “Some kind of fucking… device? That you just put in people’s heads? And then you’re in control.”

“Uh-huh!” Wasp nodded happily. “I do now, at least. That delightful little science officer is figuring out the finishing touches.”

Delaney shook her head in futile disbelief. She’d never heard of technology like that, but there was no way to deny what she’d seen in medbay. Something was missing from Wasp’s story, though.

“But then,” Delaney asked slowly, “how did you get to this point? You… you got the captain under your control? But… how? There’s no way any of this should have been possible without…”

She looked at Captain Vasser, willing her to somehow rouse herself from the strange, mesmerized stupor Wasp seemed to have her in. If there was anyone who could get her out of this mess, it was the captain. Delaney just needed to figure out exactly what was wrong with her.

“Oh, that’s the best part.” Wasp sauntered over to Captain Vasser and stroked her cheek, almost affectionately. “She was the key to all of this. I made it into the holodeck on my own, but all the rest? She gave it to me. Let me into all the critical systems. She was the very first piece of the puzzle. She couldn’t help herself.”

“N-no,” Delaney breathed. If any part of this madness was truly unbelievable, it was that. Captain Vasser would never put her ship or her crew in jeopardy.

“Yes,” Wasp insisted gleefully. “Your captain has a few skeletons in her closet. Or a few spirals, as the case may be. Captain Yvonne Vasser is a complete and total hypno-slut. A fetishist. And she broke her brain so hard, all I needed to do was pull a few strings and use a few of the right words.”

“You’re lying,” Delaney hissed. It didn’t make any sense. The captain was… no. No way. Wasp was just messing with her. That was the only explanation. What she was telling Delaney was completely impossible to square with everything she knew about Captain Vasser. “Fuck you!”

Wasp arched an eyebrow. “I’m really not. You should see the amount of porn she had buried in the ship’s computers. Hell, you should see how messed up she got looking at some of it. Drooling, eyes blank, head drooping…”

“Go fuck yourself!” Delaney yelled angrily. “You’re full of shit!”

It was strange. She was the last person she’d expect to defend Captain Vasser’s honor. Maybe some of that deeply annoying basic training had sunk in somewhere along the way. Trust the ship, trust the captain. Maybe it was that in all the time Delaney had been serving on the Inyx, Captain Vasser and her sternness had simply always been there. You counted on it, the way you counted on the sun coming up each morning. Maybe it was just that she’d always assumed that when the going got tough, Captain Vasser would be there with a plan and a steady hand. Whatever it was, she couldn’t just let Wasp run her mouth like this.

“Hmm.” Wasp drew her face into a lopsided, daring smirk. She seemed to take Delaney’s words as a challenge. “Well, why don’t we see what the captain herself has to say about all that?”

She turned to Captain Vasser, still standing just where she had been when Wasp had first appeared, with a blank, dazed expression on her face. Wasp lifted her hand to the captain’s face and snapped her fingers a few times.

“Captain? Earth to captain? It’s time to wake up. Oh, and that’s an order.”

At those last words, Captain Vasser seemed to stir. Her pose became a little less stiff and she blinked her eyes a few times, and slowly they cleared of fog. It was like watching someone wake up - but slowly. Agonizingly slowly. Delaney couldn’t begin to fathom how deeply Captain Vasser had been under, or for how long. What did that mean, for how she’d been commanding the ship all this time?

“W-what…” Captain Vasser said in a desperately faint voice. “W-w-where… am I?”

“That’s it.” Wasp kept snapping her fingers impatiently. “Come on. All the way up.”

Her insistent snapping seemed to do more to disorient the captain than anything else, but eventually, Captain Vasser seemed to get her bearings. She looked around at the holodeck, and then at Delaney, and then at Wasp - and then she turned as white as a sheet.

“You…” Captain Vasser breathed, aghast. She looked down. “Oh. No, no, no…”

“Captain!”

She looked like she was about to fall over, and so Delaney rushed to her side, ready to support her. She couldn’t possibly fathom what was going on in the other woman’s head, but she knew what was at stake and she knew her duty in a situation like this: report to the captain, and be ready for orders.

“Captain Vasser,” Delaney said crisply as her captain peered blearily at her. “Wasp seems to be in control of the ship’s systems. We need to stop her. What should we do?”

Captain Vasser’s eyes widened. She started shaking her head. “T-that can’t be,” she said. “I didn’t… I wouldn’t…”

Delaney’s heart started to sink. What was happening? “Captain!” she said, louder. “Orders, captain?”

She just didn’t seem to be getting through to her. Captain Vasser kept shaking her head and winced like she was recoiling, both from Delaney’s question and from the sudden torrent of her own memories. “Crewman, wait, I… I need to think.”

Delaney’s face fell. Who was this woman? She was like a husk of the captain Delaney had known. Seeing her like this was unspeakably demoralizing, and it was enough to make Delaney wonder if Wasp had actually been telling the truth.

“Captain, she…” Delaney ventured slowly. “She said you let her into the critical systems. Something about… your, uh, holodeck material?”

It seemed to take Captain Vasser a moment to process Delaney’s words, but once she did, she reacted in a way the younger woman never would have expected. Her nerve broke, and she looked away. Her face turned a deep scarlet with shame.

“T-that’s not…” she stammered. “I didn’t m-m… No, no, there must be something else. I couldn’t… wouldn’t…”

“Captain…” A sense of insurmountable disappointment washed over Delaney. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Captain Vasser was making excuses. She sounded like she was in denial. Was this really the woman Delaney had chosen to put her faith in?

“O captain, my captain!” Wasp echoed mockingly, rounding on Captain Vasser. “Come on, cap! Tell her! Let’s see… which scenario was it? You’ve so many, after all. The one with the student, at the academy? I think that was it.”

“Shut up!” Captain Vasser barked, but her voice was too high-pitched. It lacked authority. And Delaney couldn’t help but notice the other ways she was reacting. She was squeezing her legs together as if taken by a sharp yearning. “S-shut up.”

“Or you’ll what?” Wasp cackled mercilessly. “Lick my boots again? Please! And you can’t tell me you wouldn’t enjoy it. We both know that’s a lie.”

“N-n-nooo,” Captain Vasser cried.

“I think maybe even your crewman does too,” Wasp added. “I checked her file, you know. Lori Delaney. A real troublemaker. But she came straight to you anyway. It’s almost touching, isn’t it? Such faith? What a shame that you’re just going to let her down.”

This time, Captain Vasser couldn’t seem to muster the strength even to deny it. She just let out a wordless whine that was half shame, half ecstasy. Delaney backed away uncertainly. What the hell was she watching? This felt, more than anything else, like some kind of twisted foreplay.

“But I suppose you’re enjoying that too, aren’t you?” Wasp went on. The way she posed and gestured theatrically, drawing out each word as she tormented the hapless captain out of sadistic glee, was infuriating to witness. “That’s one of your favorites. Getting humiliated in front of someone younger. Someone subordinate. Someone who should look up to you. If only she was hypnotizing you too, huh? I bet that would really get you off.”

“S-stop,” Captain Vasser begged. “P-please. I can’t… think…”

It was all too clear why. She was blushing like a maiden and sweating visibly, and the way her body twitched and contorted with each of Wasp’s loaded, venomous accusations was undeniably suggestive. Between shame and pleasure, pleasure was evidently winning out. This was a side of Captain Vasser that Delaney had never seen before, and it left her horrified and transfixed in equal measure.

“Can’t think? I thought you’d be begging for that.” Waps giggled, and then made a little gesture with her hand and plucked a holographic pocket watch out of thin air. She dangled it by its chain and started swinging it back and forth like a pendulum in front of Captain Vasser. “Well, I think Crewman Delaney here has gotten the picture. What do you say, captain? Do you wanna go back into that nice, blissful, trancey sleep? You know what you have to do. Just look at the pocket watch, and let your mind go blank.”

As she swung the pocket watch, Wasp’s voice changed. It became soft and melodious, a luring song, beckoning Captain Vasser to calm and submission. To Delaney’s horror, it seemed to work. Slowly, Captain Vasser’s face turned towards the pendulum, and as soon as her eyes locked onto it they started to go dull. With each swing, more and more emotion and personality drained from her face, and she started to slip into a kind of stillness that was disrupted only by occasional, rapturous shivering that hinted at the blinding, fetishistic pleasure she was experiencing.

Seeing how pathetically susceptible the captain was made Delaney tremble. It was practically confirmation of Wasp’s story. But that wasn’t the worst part. The very worst part was the ghost of the last expression Delaney could see haunting Captain Vasser’s face.

It was relief. The captain was relieved at being hypnotized. At not having to think anymore. At not having to face what she’d done. Delaney’s hands balled into fists again. She couldn’t take any more of this farce.

“Hey!” she yelled, striding forward. “Snap the fuck out of it already!”

Delaney shoved Wasp’s hologram out of the way as roughly as she could, grabbed Captain Vasser by the shoulders, and slapped her across her face. Captain Vasser shuddered in the aftermath of the blow, slowly coming back to life.

“Wwuh… hhuh?” she said blearily. Delaney noted with disgust that she was actually drooling.

“Wake up already!” she demanded. “Captain - no, Yvonne Vasser. Wake the fuck up, Yvonne. You’re better than this! I know you are! You’re one of the youngest and finest captains in the whole damn Alliance, even if you are a total bitch. So, Yvonne, I don’t care what you did or what you’re into. I just need you to straighten up, get your head out of your ass, and figure out how we’re all going to get out of this mess!”

Delaney wasn’t one for pep talks, but she thought it was a pretty respectable attempt. She just hoped it got through to Captain Vasser properly. Even though Delaney had managed to rouse her from trance, she looked like she was back to barely knowing where she was or who she was talking to.

“C-crewman?” Captain Vasser slurred, glancing down at the red of Delaney’s uniform that indicated her rank. “Did you just… slap me?”

“Yeah.” Delaney had to smile at the absurdity of it. This was going to make for one hell of a story someday. “I guess I did.”

To her surprise, though, Captain Vasser didn’t seem to come any close to true, clear wakefulness. With all the coordination of a staggering drunk, she shoved Delaney back and looked at her with a farcical impression of sternness.

“T-that’s… not appropriate, c-crewman,” Captain Vasser said slowly. She seemed to be drawing on some kind of deeply embedded reflex that Delaney’s behavior had manged to dredge up. “N-nor is calling me… ‘Yvonne’. Alliance regulation… 521. Salute when addressing a s-superior officer.”

The smile slipped from Delaney’s face. In that moment, all her faith was lost. They were in the clutches of an incredibly dangerous criminal, and Captain Vasser was so far gone that all she could think to do was to quote the regs and lecture Delaney about insubordination. Maybe she was too fucked up to think about their situation properly. Maybe she’d just chosen not to. It didn’t make any difference now.

“God,” Delaney spat, her expression twisted. “You really are broken, aren’t you?”

“Told you so,” piped up Wasp.

Delaney couldn’t spare the emotion to be angry at Wasp. All her fury was reserved for Captain Vasser. The Inyx was her ship. They were her crew. She was responsible for all of them. How dare she let them down so badly? Especially after all those lectures and tough rules and disciplinary sentences. She was a fraud and a hypocrite, and whatever happened to the rest of the crew fell on her head.

So maybe all Delaney could do was rub her face in it while she still had her free will.

“Forget it,” she snapped. “Fuck you and fuck all your rules and regs. This is what you want, right? This is what you’re mad at me for interrupting?”

Delaney whipped around and snatched the hardlight pocket watch out of Wasp’s hand. In imitation of the hacker, she dangled it in front of Captain Vasser and started to swing it by its chain.

“Go ahead,” she snarled. “Get your fill, captain.”

“I… I…”

Captain Vasser had been trying to say something, but as soon as she saw the pocket watch the words died on her lips. Delaney saw her eyes begin to glaze over once more. Making that happen flooded her body with a strange kind of satisfaction.

“Wow,” Delaney laughed. “You really can’t help yourself, can you? Don’t you get it? I’m mocking you, captain. Aren’t I being insubordinate now? Don’t you care? Can you even hear me?”

Delaney knew almost nothing about hypnosis. As little as the average overly-curious young gridnet user, anyway. She wasn’t exactly vanilla herself. Still, she’d never tried anything like this. She could tell that her technique was sloppy. She couldn’t seem to get the watch to swing in a nice, slow, regular rhythm the way Wasp had. But whatever she was doing seemed to be more than enough for Captain Vasser.

“I guess that’s part of it, huh?” Delaney ranted, thinking back to Wasp’s words. “You like knowing that I’m just a crewman on your ship. You get off on it. I can tell. Is this one of your precious little holodeck fantasies, huh?”

A weak, wet mewl from Captain Vasser’s lips let Delaney know she’d hit somewhere near the mark. She smirked. Now that she’d given up all her faith in the captain, she was free to revel in the satisfaction. She thought back to all the times Vasser or one of her officers had written Delaney up for lateness, or uniform violations, or anything else.

"Fine, then. Far be it from me to stop you getting your kicks. I’ll just have to try and enjoy this even more.” Delaney grinned with wild abandon. “Think about it, captain. Think about how easy you are. All it takes is waving some stupid watch in front of you, and any petty crewman on this ship can have you drooling all over yourself. It’s pathetic.”

The broken captain’s mewls and moans grew louder; more desperate.

“I hope everyone gets to see you like this.” Delaney was warming to her theme. “The whole crew. All those people who look up to you. I hope they all get their turn to stick their fingers in your head, just like I am right now.”

It was fascinating, watching Captain Vasser steadily slip under hypnosis even as her body burned and twitched from Delaney’s taunts. Delaney was starting to understand the appeal of the captain’s fetish - at least, from this angle.

“Bet you’d get a kick out of that, huh?” she went on. “From wondering what we’d all use you for. That’s what you want, right? You just want everyone to have their way with you. The more depraved, the better. What kind of captain wants something like that, huh? Along with how you’ve betrayed us all, you can hardly claim to deserve the captain’s chair.”

That brought forth a particularly anguished moan - but still, it was thick with pleasure. Delaney sensed that nothing was beyond the reach of the captain’s fetish. It was buried that deep in her soul. The more she treasured something, the more she wanted something, the more she felt ashamed of something, the better fuel it made for her kinks. And now Delaney was caught up in that feeling and that flow, eager to see how far she could push her.

“I think you’d be better suited for something a little different.” Delaney laughed darkly to herself. “You know that old joke about senior crew who sleep around? I bet you do. ‘Stress relief officers’. I think that’s a better fit. Don’t you? Maybe that’s what I’ll call you.”

Delaney laughed all the louder as she watched Captain Vasser’s face contort, as a spike of arousal drove its way through the captain’s body. Clearly, she’d hit on yet another fantasy.

“After all, who needs a holodeck for that kind of thing, when you have a ‘captain’ who’s just as easy to program.” Delaney snorted in amusement, making sure to keep the watch swinging in her hand. “I’m sure you’d love being turned into everyone’s fantasy. We’d just need to get you a fitting uniform.”

“It’s funny you should say that,” Wasp said. She had been standing off to one side so quietly, Delaney had almost forgotten she was there. Almost. “The captain herself came up with something that fits the bill. She never got around to trying it out, though. She was probably still working up the courage when I got to her.”

Wasp gave her fingers another snap as she instructed the holodeck’s computer to spring into action. At that very instant, Captain Vasser’s clothes warped and shifted. It was just a complex illusion, of course, but it was an effective one, and Delaney let out a gasp at what she was now wearing.

It was a blatant, gleeful mockery of her usual attire. An Alliance uniform - a captain’s uniform, no less - but so thinly made and so tightly cut it concealed almost nothing. It featured a plunging neckline and multiple sets of cut-outs all over Captain Vasser’s body, exposing all the parts of her body a captain’s crew weren’t supposed to think about. All in all, it was like something out of cheap pornography. A slutty Halloween costume take on an Alliance captain.

Perfect.

Delaney took a moment to admire Captain Vasser’s body. It made her feel superior. She’d never imagined she’d get to see the captain so thoroughly degraded, and there was something oddly tantalizing about the way Captain Vasser barely reacted to the humiliation. Delaney’s pocket watch still held her mind in its grip. She was like a puppet - and thinking about that gave Delaney yet another idea.

“Hey, officer!” she barked, in her best imitation of Captain Vasser’s usual, commanding demeanor. “What are you waiting for? Give me a salute.”

Her order seemed to take a long moment to penetrate the deep layers of fog enshrouding Captain Vasser’s mind, but once they did, the captain slowly raised her arm, bent it at an angle, and brought her hand to her temple in a vaguely passable military salute.

But Delaney wasn’t going to be satisfied with ‘vaguely passable’. No more than Captain Vasser ever was.

“C’mon, officer,” she jeered. “You can do better than that! Straighten your back! Hold your head up high! Stiffen that arm!”

With the pocket watch still swinging Captain Vasser could not disobey, but she was in no state to salute properly either. Delaney was treated to the spectacle of the hopelessly brainwashed woman trying desperately to pull herself together, straining to achieve enough focus to keep her back straight while she raised her arm. The result was still sloppy, just as Delaney’s salutes often were in the early morning. The comparison amused Delaney, but of course, the very best part was how utterly and unmistakably absurd Captain Vasser looked, saluting while wearing that porn-parody outfit.

Delaney just laughed.

“Nice work, officer,” she mocked. She was enjoying this little roleplay. “At ease.”

Captain Vasser slumped. She seemed grateful to be allowed to slip back into complete oblivion.

“I have an idea,” Wasp interjected. “If you want to see what really gets her off.”

Delaney sensed Wasp was offering, not telling. She nodded. Wasp had successfully aroused her curiosity. The hacker snapped her fingers again, and this time it wasn’t Captain Vasser’s clothes that changed. It was Delaney’s. Her uniform shoes disappeared beneath a hardlight hologram of a pair of thigh-high platform-heeled boots. The heels were easily more than six inches high, and the boots were polished all over to a mirror sheen. Delaney threw an irritated look at Wasp as she stumbled briefly from being raised up on her new, holographic heels, but she quickly found her balance.

“Trust me,” Wasp assured me. “This is one of her favs. If you want to really see her at her lowest, this is the best way to do it.”

Delaney really, really did. Seeing how far Captain Vasser could fall was addictive. She noticed that Wasp had also conjured up a small stool right behind her, so she perched on it and stretched out one of her new boots towards Captain Vasser.

“Kneel, officer,” she instructed.

She threw the pocket watch back to Wasp, who caught it. Delaney could sense it was no longer needed. Sure enough, Captain Vasser barely stirred, and her eyes soon settled on Delaney’s boots. She seemed to lose herself in the reflections that formed on their shiny surfaces, and sank slowly to her knees in front of the crewman.

“Officer,” Wasp sang out. “The crewman’s boots are looking a little dirty. Why don’t you show her how you like to polish them?”

It wasn’t true, not even slightly, but Captain Vasser nonetheless sprung into life with something approaching eagerness. She bent forward, placed her lips against the chunky tip of the boot heel, and began to worship. The brainwashed captain started planting slow, reverent kisses on the hardlight material, before moving on to drawing her tongue across the heel in long, slow strokes. Finally, shivering with pleasure, she took the heel into her mouth and started sucking on it, taking it so deep she almost choked.

Delaney was completely mesmerized by the sight.

“God,” she breathed. “You weren’t kidding. She loves this.”

Wasp just giggled. It was obvious. Nobody had needed to order Captain Vasser to put this much exultant devotion into polishing Delaney’s boots. Beneath the deep fog of trance, it was obvious just how much the captain was enjoying this. Her cheeks were stained red with shameful pleasure, and one of her hands was drifting down to between her legs.

“No,” Delaney said sharply, once she noticed Captain Vasser about to touch herself. “I haven’t given you permission, officer. Use this instead.”

She stretched her other leg forward and used the tip of the other boot to pry Captain Vasser’s legs apart before pressing it insistently against the front of her pants. Immediately, Captain Vasser’s low, muffled moans doubled in volume and desperation, and her hips started to buck and thrust. Delaney found herself grinning.

“See?” she purred. “This is the real you, captain. This is where you belong. Isn’t it?”

Captain Vasser was beyond anything but nodding in delirious agreement. She was still eagerly kissing and sucking Delaney’s boot, but the pleasure she was receiving sapped her coordination. Her worship became sloppy and, as she moved from the heel of the boot to the tip, she was leaving long, wet trails of drool all over the object of her adoration and down the sides of her own face.

She looked nothing like herself. Nothing like the stern, dignified starship captain Delaney was so used to. Delaney was struck by the sheer magnitude of the difference. She had never once seen Captain Vasser express even the slightest hint of pleasure, amusement, or passion. Delaney had taken to assuming she was every bit as joyless in private. Clearly not, if this was how she’d been spending her holo-rec time.

It made Delaney wonder. Where did her heart really lie?

“You know,” Delaney said, steadily grinding the tip of the boot against Captain Vasser. “I heard a rumor that you’d been spending a whole lot more time on the holodeck lately. Finally dipping into that holo-rec time you’ve been accumulating all these months. And I guess now I know why. I’m sure Wasp told you to, but I’m also sure you loved every minute of it.”

Captain Vasser shivered at the coming humiliation.

"All this time,” Delaney continued, “while your crew was steadily being brainwashed. While your ship was being taken over. You were spending every spare minute down here, fucking yourself stupid to whatever perverse little fantasies Wasp found in your holodeck files? Is that right? Answer me.”

“Y-y-yes,” Captain Vasser moaned around the boot in her mouth. Her voice sounded distant, but there was a high, needy edge to it.

“All when we needed you most.” Delaney just loved the way Captain Vasser twitched as she twisted the knife. “Or do you get off on that too, huh? On betraying us? On becoming the way we get brainwashed too? Answer me?”

“Y-yes!” Captain Vasser cried. Her voice was even more strained this time. She was obviously close to climax.

“Of course.” Delaney laughed. She leaned in close. There was something she wanted to hear straight from the captain’s lips. “So tell me. Between captaining the ship - between being the perfect, textbook, strict, admired, respected captain - and becoming nothing more than a porn star in your own fucked-up fantasies: which one feels better? That? Your old life? Or this?”

“T-t-this!”

The answer erupted from Captain Vasser’s lips without hesitation. It was anguished, but Delaney knew by now that Captain Vasser derived as much pleasure from the anguish as she did pain. And she didn’t doubt for a moment that what Captain Vasser said was true. She could already see it. The captain was exploring her deepest desires; urges and fantasies that had been fermenting within her for years. Compared to that, the pride and prestige of the captain’s chair was as fragile as an eggshell.

That Captain Vasser was already gone. She’d dulled and rusted down here in the holodeck, pleasuring herself at Wasp’s command. Now, she was just a hypno-slut.

“Good.” Delaney sneered, leaning in to better enjoy the moment. “Now cum.”

Captain Vasser obeyed. It was like she’d been struck by lightning. She twitched madly, drooling more than ever and flailing in increasingly desperate efforts to rub her cunt against the tip of Delaney’s boot. The other boot, meanwhile, was still in her mouth, and she was still kissing and lapping fervently.

She hadn’t been given permission to stop, after all.

Eventually, all the strength left her, and she went limp. Captain Vasser slumped to the ground and finally released Delaney’s boot. It had been as shiny as a mirror; now, it was utterly soiled with the wet, slavering proof of the captain’s attention. It was as ruined as she was.

“Wow,” Delaney breathed. She felt almost as aroused as Captain Vasser looked. “I’m gonna enjoy using you, captain.”

Wasp stepped forward, coughing. “You know I’m going to brainwash you too, right? My sweet little pet nerds just finished whipping up a new prototype.”

Delaney noticed she was suddenly holding something long, thin and metal. It looked like a medical instrument.

“I know,” she said. “I don’t care. I just want you to promise me one thing.”

“You’re not really in the position to be making demands,” Wasp remarked. “But I’m feeling indulgent. Go ahead.”

Delaney stared straight down at Captain Vasser. “Just promise me that, in whatever fucked-up pecking order you come up with for this ship, I’ll be above her.”

Wasp threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, don’t worry about that one bit. You’ll get your wish. Pinky swear.”

“Good.” Delaney nodded. “Go ahead.”

She kept her eyes firmly fixed on the captain she’d always resented as Wasp held the medical tool up against her ear and injected something cold and strange into her skull. Captain Yvonne Vasser’s hypnotized, blissed-out face was the last thing Delaney saw before everything turned into spirals.

—

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who  support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following  patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

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[chntfessions]

thinking about the dbd/chnt thread someone made on twitter a while ago and they just took a break to project onto yvonne halfway through

like it was all normal and then there was Yvonne and it was something along the lines of "Yvonne plays Leon and has some stupid name like wifesker and she keeps prestiging him even though he's p15 already" with a screenshot of their name being wifesker and them being p15

Whoa

[darerendevil]

For archive purposes: October, 2012

A lean, slight, tousled figure in a sailor-striped T-shirt and buckle-back trousers, Cillian Murphy walks into an upscale Japanese restaurant in downtown Manhattan. As he says hello, sits down, and looks around the room with his extraordinary ultramarine blue eyes, I form my first impressions: kind, gentle, sensitive, good-humoured, with no visible traces of the villains, psychopaths and other tortured souls he has played so convincingly on stage and screen. He also looks a little weary, and there is good reason for this.

“I’ve had kind of a crazy week this week,” he says in a mellifluous Irish accent with a rich grainy timbre. “I was in the Ukraine for a film festival. I’ve been all over America promoting a film called Red Lights, which I’m in with Robert De Niro. Yesterday was The Dark Knight Rises premiere here in New York, and this afternoon we fly to London for the next premiere. It’s all part of the job, I suppose, but it’s certainly not the reason why you do it.”

The waiter arrives with water and menus, and after some study, Cillian (pronounced Killian) decides on a salad of shitakes and market greens, followed by the sashimi. “I’m a vegetarian who occasionally eats meat and fish,” he says. “I like a drink too, but I won’t just now. I’ll stick with water.” I order the Kobe beef and ask the waiter to bring out a glass of red wine with it.

Some actors enjoy talking about themselves and their films, and they do it well. Cillian does not count himself among them. “I’m getting less hung about it, but when I started, the whole promotion aspect was an ordeal to be endured,” he says. “I just don’t have a great facility for it. I try to be interesting and spontaneous but it’s so hard when you get asked the question fifty or a hundred times over. You hear your little anecdotes going stale. Yes, it was fantastic to work with Robert De Niro, but you can only say it so many times, you know? I’ve always thought, just judge me on the work. What else matters? I’m an actor and that’s what I do.”

There’s an assumption in the media that actors are all competing in the same horse race for A-list stardom, and that an actor like Cillian Murphy, who seems poised on the very brink of it, with the perfect combination of looks and talent, must surely be yearning to get there. Journalists find it hard to accept when he tells them that that the only thing he cares about is the work, and the rest of it is to be endured. But this is why he avoids celebrity parties and keeps himself out of the gossip pages. He attends his own premieres, because he has to, but he won’t go to anyone else’s and he dreads the four-minute television interview on the red carpet.

Off screen, he lives a quiet, normal life that he likes to keep as private as possible. He’s married to Yvonne McGuinness, a visual artist, and they’ve been together since he was 20. They have two sons, Malachy and Aran, and shuttle between their house in North West London and the ancestral sod of County Cork.

“I’ve always felt that the less the public knows about you, the more effective you can be when you go to portray someone else,” he says.“For actors to reveal so much about themselves, and allow their personal selves to be owned by the media and the public, I find at odds with trying to lose yourself in a character. And that’s the thing I’m after. That’s what drives me. I’m 36 now, and I still have a real hunger for it.”

He thinks the desire to perform for an audience is something genetic, a personality trait that lives in the DNA, and it first expressed itself in his youthful attempts to be a rock star.“Of all the arts, music is still the one that affects me on the deepest level,” he says. “My parents were teachers, not artistic types, but there was always music in the house, and all four of us kids learned to play music. I was in a few different bands, playing guitar, singing and songwriting.”

One of those bands was called The Sons of Mr Greengenes, after the Frank Zappa song. They were offered a five-album deal by Acid Jazz records, but turned it down, because the deal was a swindle and Cillian’s parents disapproved of the music business. At the same time, Cillian recognised that he’d reached the ceiling of his musical talent, and would never be as good as he wanted to be. He went to law school in Cork “for no good reason,” and then one day he wandered into a production of Clockwork Orange staged in local nightclub.

“If your first theatre experience is a bad one, it’s unlikely you’ll go back,” he says. “But my first theatre experience was an extraordinary one. It was dangerous and sexy and electric, and just astonishing. I’ll always love music, but here was another form of live performance, just as exciting.”He pestered the theatre company, and after some starter roles, he was cast in the lead of Disco Pigs, a strange and brilliant play by Enda Walsh about a sick, twisted, obsessive relationship between a deranged boy and a slightly less deranged girl next door. The play was a huge success, touring for several years, reaching as far afield as Toronto and Copenhagen, and in 2001 it was made into a film. Pale, beautiful and androgenous, with outsized lips and impossibly blue eyes, Cillian Murphy looks as though he drifted down to earth from some other galaxy, or floated up from a cave kingdom beneath the Irish Sea. This ethereal, otherworldly quality has been a great asset to him as an actor, and many of his films have taken place in imaginary realms or the future.

His big breakthrough came in 2002 when he was cast as the lead in Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later, and required to fight his way through a post-apocalyptic London full of zombies. He went to outer space in Boyle’s Sunshine, and Gotham City for Christopher Nolan’s Batman trilogy, in which he plays the sinister psychologist Scarerow. Nolan cast him again in Inception, as the target man for Leonardo DiCaprio’s team of dream-jackers.He’s also played a transvestite for Neil Jordan in Breakfast On Pluto, a creepy villain for Wes Craven in Red Eye, and a reluctant freedom fighter turned zealot for Ken Loach in The Wind Shakes The Barley, an epic about the Irish war of independence set in his native Cork. In all, he’s done 26 feature films, and while some of them haven’t turned out as well as he hoped, there are no bad or stupid films in his biography.

“You have to go in with good faith, and believe that this is best performance you’re ever going to give,” he says. “I’ve never done a film I didn’t believe in. I’ve never done a film for the money. Fortunately, I’ve been in some big budget films that were smart, and the money has given me the freedom to do small budget films and theatre that I’ve felt passionately about. An example is this movie Broken, which is a kind of version of To Kill A Mockingbird transposed to contemporary London. It’s a tiny, tiny budget film, and I’m just so proud of it. It’s such an emotionally brave piece of film-making.”Another example is Misterman, a one-man play that he performed earlier this year in Ireland, Brooklyn and London. Written by Enda Walsh, who got him started in Disco Pigs, and has become a close friend, it required him to play seven different characters imagined by the main character, and earned him the best reviews of his entire career. “It was incredibly exhausting and incredibly satisfying. Sometimes I was doing two performances a day. I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired, or so happy. It was very pure. It was all about the work. The commerce aspect was tiny, compared to when you make a film, and there was none of the waiting around.”

The waiter sets down two beautifully presented plates, one of sashimi and one of beef, and pours me a particularly delicious glass of Bordeaux. Seeing the expression of delight on my face when I taste the wine, Cillian says, “You know what? I’ll have a glass as well then. I do like my red wine.” Then the conversation collapses into silence, grunts,and occasional exclamations, as our chopsticks deliver one morsel of culinary artistry after another into our mouths. This restaurant, 15 East, was recently named one of the best in New York, and for both of us, it’s one of the best meals of our lives. “Absolutely sensational,” says Cillian, who is finding no problem at all drinking red wine with sushi.

When the plates are empty, I ask him what it feels like to become a character. Is it a genuine transformation, or it just a matter of dressing up and pretending to be someone else? “It’s not always the same,” he says. “Some characters are just a slight adjustment, and some are a great distance away from you. I like to do research. I was playing a professional debunker in this movie Red Lights about the supernatural, so I went and hung out with physicists and professional sceptics and magicians, to understand that community. Actors tend to know a lot superficially about a great deal of things.”

I press him again: what does it feel like when you’re in character? “It’s most satisfying on the stage,” he says. “If it reaches the point of being transcendent, where you’re not actually conscious of being on stage performing, because you’re only aware of the character and his world and his needs, well, that’s what you’re always aiming for, that’s the moment that theatre people are always chasing. It’s the ultimate rush, if you will, for an actor, when the self disappears completely.”

One glass of Bordeaux leads to another. The waiter asks if we want dessert, and Cillian says no thanks, and I order something called a Shiratama parfait of red beans, matcha jelly and green tea ice cream.When it arrives, it is multi-coloured and visually spectacular with many more ingredients, and Cillian says, “Wow, look at that. My goodness, I might have to get a spoon of that.”

We both dig in, exploring an extraordinary combination of flavours and textures, with gums, jellies, brioche, red bean paste and more. “Oh man, what’s that green stuff?” he says, mining the lower layers now. “I have no idea what that is. It’s got that gummy vibe going on again. Fecking amazing.”

With a drop more wine, Cillian gets talking with great enthusiasm about books and music. Have I read the Irish writer John Banville, one of his favourites? Do I know the seminal jazz album Bill Evans Live At the Village Vanguard? Cillian found it recently on vinyl, being a great admirer of Bill Evan’s understated piano playing, and firmly convinced that vinyl is still the best way to listen to music. He loves Frank Zappa, Captain Beefheart, Van Morrison, Jack White, and the Irish writers Pat McCabe, Sebastian Barry and the late, great, mindbending Flann O’Brien. Cillian is signed up for the film version of O’Brien’s satirical postmodern comedy At-Swim-Two-Birds, along with Gabriel Byrne, Colin Farrell and Michael Fassbender, and he hopes it will go into production soon.

“I’m also hoping to do some telly,” he says. “The smart mid-budget movie, which has been my bread and butter, has been squeezed out quite a bit. People are very reluctant to take a chance on a smart $17 million movie. They’d much rather throw everything into a dumb $250 million movie. But you don’t find that in TV where the writing just gets better and better, and you’ve the opportunity to develop a character over many hours.”

When you’re interviewing an actor, it’s always difficult to know if you’re witnessing a performance or the real person, but I get the distinct impression that Cillian Murphy is not only a nice guy, but maybe even happy and fulfilled. Is this true? “Well, the insecurity is always there,” he says. “It’s a necessary aspect of being an actor, or a writer for that matter. You have to have that insecurity. I used to feel like a failed musician pretending to be an actor, but that’s less of a worry now. I’ve found my form, I’ve found the right outlet for my impulse to create, and yes, I’m pretty happy. I don’t believe you have to be a tortured person in order to make great art. It needn’t always come from a place of pain, although there seems to be a romantic view of that.”

When he was a boy, all he wanted to do was hang around with artists and creative people, but he was stuck in a school in Cork where rugby and academia were the only things people seemed to care about. “Now, weirdly, I’ve found myself in a position where all my friends are artists. It’s a good place to be, I think, and that’s a real source of happiness, especially when we collaborate on stuff.”His ambitions for the future are very simple. In theatre, film or television, in collaboration with the best writers and directors, he wants to make great art, and keep on making it. “I can’t remember which director said it, but he said it takes 30 years to make a good actor,” he says.

“Longevity matters. I’m 16 years in, just over the hump, and when I’m 50 I should know if I’ve mastered my trade, or failed gloriously.”When the dessert and Bordeaux are finished, I ask for the bill, and the waiter brings it with two complementary glasses of dessert wine and a tray of petit fours. “I’m a big fan of your work,” he says to Cillian.

“I’m a big fan of your restaurant,” says Cillian. “How fantastic. What a meal. I wish all interviews could be like this.”As we walk out pleasantly buzzed into the bright furnace of a New York summer afternoon, I notice that Cillian doesn’t appear to have a mobile phone. “I left it in a taxi yesterday,” he says.

“Within half an hour, someone had called my wife and made arrangements to return it. I’m going to pick it up now before I go to the airport. It gives you faith, man. My publicist has lost two wallets and a phone here, and gotten them all back, with none of the money missing. It’s not something people expect from New York, but there you have it.”

Then I see the waiter from 15 East running down the street towards us, and I wonder if he’s going to ask Cillian for an autograph. But no, by odd coincidence, the waiter is holding my mobile phone, which I must have left in the restaurant. “You see what I mean?” says Cillian. “It gives you faith. Alright, best of luck, and I’ll be off now.”