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eponymous-rose · 5 years

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Talks Machina Episode #100 Highlights!

That’s right: 100 EPISODES. That’s a lot of great questions, greater answers, questionable pronunciations of usernames, even more questionable uses of overlays, and a++++ excellent dogs.

The entire cast is answering questions this week!

Max runs an (adorable) intro in the above puppet theater, and each cast member gets a title. Laura is The Heart, Sam is The “Funny Guy”, Travis is The Brawn, Liam is The Actor, Matt is The Brains, Marisha is The Face, Taliesin is The Pyramid, Brian is The Convict, and Ashley is The Favorite.

The cast’s entrance is majestic. There are balloons, sashes, tiaras, and champagne. Henry has a tiara too!

The Search for Grog will air this Friday, February 22 at 7 PM Pacific on twitch.tv/criticalrole. If you miss the stream, it’ll be available Saturday morning on CR’s YouTube channel!

Talks Machina and CR will air on CR’s official channels starting today! Starting next episode, TM will be available on CR’s YouTube channel on Thursday at 7 Pacific, and also in podcast form!

Stats: in 100 episodes of TM, there’s been 81 episodes of Brian’s glorious beard. There have been 9 Skype/FaceTime call-ins! There were 244 guest misnomers before that well ran dry. 93 episodes of pre-show hijinks (thanks to Max James!). 95 episodes of Arsequeef. 826 days of being on the internet!

Brian: "The concept of creating a talk show about a D&D campaign has always been absurd to me, so we wanted to embrace that terribleness.”

There’s now a Steve Cam (quietly reading, meal prepping, and ignoring the show), and a Zach Cam (staring at a monitor that’s all just Liam’s chest hair and the Fjord bust), and a Max Cam (dancing in a stripper cop outfit), Lockey Cam (practicing with a sword in front of a mirror and then charging at Daniel for filming it - Brian: “Hopefully Daniel’s non-union.”), Ed Cam (drinking scotch and counting down the days until football returns, and also lint rolling his new goatee), Chris Cam (rapping in the VO booth), Brittany Cam (dancing with a unicorn blanket, huffing compressed air - Brian: “You can’t show that on Twitch!”).

Matt is asked how his DMing style has evolved with campaign 2. “Well... I’ve been forced to embrace a little more of the tragedy in the characters’ backstories.” The internal and external conflict has been really interesting for him to watch and react to. “I’ve learned to be very proud of my players for mucking up my perception of where things are going to go.”

Coming to Xhorhas, Nott’s thrilled to no longer have to worry about the mask. Sam’s excited about the City of Beasts “to see what kind of fucked-up individuals we’re going to find and seeing how Nott will react to that.”

Yasha definitely sympathizes with Nott trying to save her spouse, but “there’s a lot going on with her going back to Xhorhas. It’s definitely triggering for her, but she understands the need to want to go back. I wish I could go to Xhorhas. We’ll see what happens.” Travis: “I’m pretty sure once we go to a place we can never go back.”

Favorite item on the Talks shelves? Taliesin mentions a magnetic Percy mini, Sam likes the tiny Sams (”It looks like my bedroom!”), Ashley and Brian are partial to the Sully painting, Laura loves the Pike painting, Marisha loves all the stuff the cast bought on a hungover voyage to the flea market when they were first building the set, Matt loves a very cool dice tower. Brian likes the Vecna with Marisha’s face. Matt: “I don’t know if I like that one.”

Laura doesn’t like the party using the derogatory term for the Krynn, because she wants people to be happy even if she doesn’t know them. Sam: “I haven’t been the best for that, but if Jester wants me to... I guess I’ll change.”

There are new wipe transitions featuring the Matt pillow and the Fjord bust. It’s glorious.

Gif of the week: Sam calling Travis “studly” for catching the candy. Laura: “...I like that I’ve been cut out of it completely.”

Arsequeef gets the Lifetime Achievement Award for Gif of the Week. He wins Max’s 2006 Honda Accord.

On Caleb taking off his bandages because there’s nothing to hide anymore: “Was that terrifying for him, or a relief?” Liam: “Yes!” He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it feels good. He’s got f...r...iends?” Marisha: “I love that sitcom. (weakly) F...r...iends?”

Caduceus being a source of comfort, insight, and advice was built into the character. Taliesin looked at low INT high WIS, and Matt immediately started laughing and told Taliesin he’d do well with that. Taliesin: “There’s plenty of things that will eventually flap that, but we haven’t hit them yet.”

As a player, Travis doesn’t like to weigh things carefully all the time, so a lot of Fjord’s leardership has been a bit about pressing fast-forward. Marisha: “So what you’re saying is that your Grog’s poking through.” Matt points out that if both characters have a trait, it’s probably just Travis.

Liam: “I’ve got a little Travis poking me from behind.” Marisha, musing: “So many conflicting beards...”

Beau’s prayer to Ioun mostly came from a “couldn’t hurt” perspective. “I’ll try it out. Give it a spin.” When Travis asks, Marisha clarifies that it was Ioun specifically because of the Cobalt Soul. Travis: “Oh yeah, I totally knew the relationship there. I just wanted to make sure the audience did.”

Bugbear friend or bugbear foe? Sam: “He speaks goblin, he seems cool, his name’s Gluzo. He has a hard-to-pin-down accent, but it’s amazing.” Taliesin: “You have a hard-to-pin-down accent, too. It’s something you have in common.” Taliesin gets asked if his insight check revealed that the bugbear is secretly pretending to be someone else. “Yes, he’s just pretending to be a bugbear. He’s actually Matt Mercer.” Laura: “I like him. ‘Cause he’s cute and he let me give him a tattoo.”

Sam: “Nott trusts her friends to be as strong as they can be, and at this point, I don’t know if she’s as concerned with one of them dying as just getting to her husband in time before he dies. If we lose one along the way, Nott will probably cry a little, but will move on.” What if it were Fjord? “Fjord’s expjendable.”

Matt: “I’ve reached a point where Travis controls Yasha in combat, but I don’t consider any of his roleplay canon.” Ashley: “I trust Travis. Barbarian respect.” Laura: “Don’t give him that.” Ashley: “Travis himself is like a Deck of Many things. This is risky, but it’s kind of fun!”

Sam: “That dunamancy shit is lit.” Liam: “And it’s tied up in everything that Caleb wants, so if he can get on the entropy shit and the gravity shit, you know he’s going to go back in time, motherfucker.” Sam is so excited to have these mystery spells because they’re so new, and they’re inherently something they don’t know how to counter or prepare for. Travis: “It’s almost like every time we play D&D.”

Fanart of the Week: a spectacular group shot.

Everyone freaks out over how good Travis looks with glasses. He takes them off and puts them back on sexily for a while. I was too slow grabbing a screencap, but don’t worry, the gifs will be everywhere.

Laura: “Jester hasn’t experienced a lot of emotions. She hasn’t experienced a lot of anything, really. She’s definitely dealt with sadness in her life, but I don’t think it’s been so in-your-face constantly, just the trauma of it all.” Liam: “Yeah, she’s with some very terrible people.” Laura: “While it is traumatic, it’s also been a great adventure, and she’s enjoying being out and doing things. Even if it might hurt her, it’s so much better than reading about it, drawing it, just imagining how it would be.”

Caleb’s still feeling out the shift in his relationship with Nott, but there’s no question that everything they’ve gone through can’t be forgotten or overlooked. “He sees her as an absolute ally no matter what, and will do anything for her. In a weird way, he feels like they’re even more alike than he thought they were, and he loves her and wants her to succeed in what she’s doing, and hopes that the things that he wants don’t fuck it up entirely.” Sam: “Are you talking about Liam and Sam right now?”

Caduceus’ thoughts on Xhorhas? “A new environment, certainly, and a new aspect of nature that he’s unfamiliar with. This is just more terrain to him at this point. He’s also very unaware of the political realities. He’s vaguely aware there is war. He’s still not sure why we can’t just go up and ask for directions from everyone.”

Brian: “That tiara is the most blessed image.”

Travis on the Captain Tusktooth tattoo: “Brand recognition is huge in Xhorhas.” Taliesin: “Viral marketing.” Laura confirms that it’s not likely to change apart from some small differences from tattoo to tattoo. “Each person gets a special google.”

Laura on fans actually getting this tattoo: “I am ALL ABOUT IT.”

Marisha: “Guys! How about instead of M9 tattoos...” Sam: “We let Laura tattoo us? I would legitimately be down with that!” Ashley: “I’m kind of into it.” Liam: “This is what splits us apart.” Laura: “Everybody gets a dick.” Travis: “How would we explain that to our kid? ‘What’s that?’ ‘Your mom did that.’”

Beau is holding back a bit since her impulsiveness started having negative repercussions. “I think it’s about accountability. She’s started to learn--- especially when she first joined M9, she didn’t have friends, really. I think you had to learn, oh, my actions do affect others around me. I think that’s something you can learn and you can grow in, but yeah, she is trying to not be a total fuckwad anymore. Trying. But old habits...”

Favorite TM moments? Travis: “Do you remember that episode where Brian wasn’t the host?” Brian remembers Travis throwing the card that almost took him out. Ashley fondly remembers PullOutKing. Laura remembers Taliesin saying the phrase “I love teenage assholes” (referring to Percy acting immature), and Taliesin is super glad someone brought that up again just when the tweets were finally starting to die down.

Ashley talks about how proud she is about how far Brian’s come, and how great he’s doing at this. Everyone has an uncharacteristically sincere moment of applause for Brian. Liam: “Everyone take 30 seconds to drop the bit that we think you’re a total fucking weirdo. You’re so good at this, and you’re such a good friend, and we’re so glad you’re part of this family.”

Marisha pitches the idea of trying to sell TM syndicated on LifeTime now that they have 100 episodes.

Brian remembers having food poisoning that led to him running off-screen, throwing up in the middle of the show, and then having to come back. Marisha remembers Travis texting everyone that night with “lol, did Brian just yarf on TV?”

Matt talks about how proud he is of Brian for going from zero tabletop experience to co-running his own game.

Talks Machina After Dog ft. Sleepy Boi Henry

“This is the best dog-petting show ever.”

Liam was skeptical about TM initially, because he was worried it would take away from what would be shared in-game. Marisha: “I was stoked for it, not gonna lie. I was very misunderstood and people hated my character, so I was kind of stoked to just get to explain it.” Travis was sold once they picked the name.

Marisha: “It also set the precedent for really dumb, punny names.” Brian points out that, as a channel, they now can’t stick with serious names as their final choice.

Laura’s sister has been watching the show, and she texted Laura after the show to ask what the whisper was, so Laura’s going to tell her and no one else. Liam: “You’re gonna tell your real sibling?”

There’s a horrified discussion about giraffe fighting. Some segues happened in there.

What’s something their characters have done that’s made them proud? Liam: Caleb using the Wall of Fire. Marisha: the Plank King execution episode as a whole (everyone agrees). Travis: “I was proud of hooking up with an NPC when my wife wasn’t here to threaten me with death.” (he immediately turns to Taliesin: “Help.” Taliesin: “No god can help you now.”) Taliesin: “I sunk a boat.” Laura: Proud of not getting caught with Nott in the Platinum Dragon sanctuary. Sam: Taking the blow for Jester so she could escape. Liam: “Molly showing his dick covered in eggs.”

Matt: “I’m proud of you guys not entirely descending into evil madness. I’m proud of the character arcs of being broken, terrible people, and finding out that it’s okay to be broken; you’re not necessarily terrible.” Liam: “The entire cast went, ‘He’s talking about everyone but me’.” Matt thought it was going to be very hard to keep the group together, but the party turned it into character growth moments. “I’m proud of you.” Laura: “Thanks, Dad.”

Yasha loved the arm wrestling. “Oh man, it’s so fun to be the tank.”

Laura: “I’m really proud of us for saving Kiri!”

Everyone has Liam’s chest hair:

Wishes for the next 100 episodes? More Ashley.

Brian: “I hate this coffee table more than anything in the whole, entire world.”

What’s something that should never change about the show? How ridiculous it is, the barrel, Dani. Also always have a dog. They fundamentally do the show for themselves, still, and that’s made it a really good environment for them to open up about the show and their characters.

Liam: “There’s a lot of beauty to what we do, but it’s also inherently silly. And to deny that is silly.”

Matt likes that it’s unpolished and imperfect. “Things are going to go wrong regardless, and you can either get angry and frustrated about the lack of control, or you can embrace it.” Sam: “None of this is real anyway.”

Brian points out that this is not an excuse to stop paying him.

And that’s a wrap! This is the last After Dark for a while, but there are some big ideas in the works for the coming weeks!

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long text post

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apparitionism · 5 years

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Helicobacter 14

The bering and wells tag got a little sleepy after Christmas, didn’t it? I can’t say this chapter is any sort of wake-up call, but ideally it’ll give you a laugh or two. Previously on Helicobacter, Myka was working on an idea. She told Helena about it in the wee small hours of the morning... sadly, over the phone. But they’ll be in the same physical space in this part, so who can say what will happen? Well, one thing that definitely will is that you’ll notice I haven’t cut and woven this part into a fully cohesive set piece. Everything was taking too long, so I decided to hone the little bits I had, take the hit, and move on. Also, in a break from previous practice, I’m not going to link to the other parts of this story here, because I’m having a problem with some posts not showing up in searches/tags. Probably due to all of that racy content I post. (Tumblr flagged me. Oh, the hilarity.) But there are thirteen parts previous to this one, and they should be easily findable on my tumblr. Which is not, for the record, home to content that is sensitive.

Helicobacter 14

That morning in her office, wishing she had not begun the day’s coffee consumption in the middle of the night, Helena found herself once again fatigued—yet the lack of sleep also rendered her energized, strung out on anticipation. She also found herself once again staring at those model trees, so valiant despite their small size. So valiant they had been, since the very beginning, and Helena envied them their ability to remain oblivious to the disaster that had befallen the model neighborhood they for so short a time called home.

Of course, the “plan” did not necessarily have to be the full catastrophe she was envisioning, for in the end, she and Myka could always swear that the (fictional) email-driven misunderstanding would remain that. No one in a position of power knew what had really happened. No one knew that anyone had said anything like “I love you” on the telephone in the middle of the night.

When she worked up her nerve, she asked Steve, “Do you and Liam have plans for Saturday night?” If he said yes, she could at least keep this... quiet. Somewhat quiet. A bit quiet.

Unfortunately, Steve said no.

“Would you like to participate in a disaster?” Helena asked next. “A theatrical disaster.”

“Is that supposed to make me want to say yes or no?”

“I have no idea. However, it might be better for me to have allies, simply as a check on my worst impulses where a certain someone is concerned. I find myself agreeing to things... so perhaps you can pull me back from that ledge.”

“The fact that we’re talking about plans for Saturday night that involve a certain someone suggests to me that you’ve already agreed to something,” he said, but he was smiling rather than observably attempting to control his breathing.

“That, I regret to admit, is true.”

“Have you jumped off a ledge?”

“Not literally.”

“But only because she hasn’t asked you to.” Still smiling.

“I regret to admit as well that that is the only reason. It might solve some problems if she did ask and I did do it. In the literal sense.”

He said, with a beleaguered air, “I guess we’d better come, if only to tie a rope around your middle.”

“You are the best assistant the world will ever know.”

“I try. Then again, so do you.”

“Not enough.” She looked at the model-piece. “We need to build more libraries.”

“That sounds like a ledge, or stepping off of one.”

“What does Liam like most?” she countered.

“Other than me? You’ll laugh.” In response to this, Helena again heard herself make the question-noise, which now would always remind her of Myka having recognized it. How that woman wormed her way into everything... Steve answered the now-Myka-reminiscent noise by saying, “Gardening.”

And Helena did laugh, as predicted. She’d expected the answer to be professional, such as “the law,” or perhaps something fitting Liam’s extraordinarily handsome looks, such as “Armani suits.” Then again, Myka was every bit as beautiful as Liam was handsome, and Myka loved books... Helena said, “Wouldn’t you build many, many greenhouses if you could? Because you could?”

“They’re pretty objectively good, right? Like libraries. Maybe we do need to build more of them.”

“I am not opposed. Find a project, or projects, and we’ll bid.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” she told him, with feeling.

“You’re not just saying that because I’m bringing rope on Saturday?”

“Everything is connected, my darling Steve.”

He chuckled. “With rope?”

“If necessary.”

“What is this really about?” he asked.

“I’ll let Myka tell you—it will please her enormously to go into detail.” Saying “Myka” aloud pleased Helena herself enormously. So rare a pleasure, lately. “Also I don’t understand any of the duplicitous particulars well enough to explain them to you. Sadly, I don’t have Greek, so I can’t read the epic poem in the original... plus, I haven’t slept.”

“I can tell... please don’t tell me why not.”

“Would that it were that.” She sighed. “My darling Steve. Am I ever going to feel in control again?”

“Have you ever? Really?”

“Comparatively.” She had certainly at some point not experienced this career-off-a-cliff need to agree with every objectively ridiculous proposal of an irresistible, book-loving city planner...

“Do you want to? Feel that way again, I mean?”

“Yes?” Because she ought to want to.

“So cancel the Saturday plans.”

“I can’t.”

“Then no. You won’t ever.”

“Hence the need for the rope,” Helena agreed.

“I think I’m going to have to learn how to actually do roping. Maybe not the tricks with the spinning, but enough to throw the loop around you.”

“I suspect your doing that would be met with great enthusiasm from a particular spectator.” So easy to picture the enthusiasm—the delight—on Myka’s face if she witnessed such a performance, but Helena tried to return to pessimism. “Not that I expect any of this to work out.”

“You know the real reason Liam and I’ll both be into this Saturday thing?” Helena shook her head, and Steve went on, “What always happens is that we’re at his place or my place, and we don’t have the energy to come up with any ideas about what to do, so we stay in. And then he complains that we never go anywhere.”

“So it’s because this comes prepackaged as an idea of what to do?”

“For him, that’s my bet. But for me, it’s because after he complains, he smiles at me. And I give thanks that I get to witness it. Myka’s got a pretty decent smile... I think you should have the opportunity to give that kind of thanks.”

From anyone else, such words might have cloyed. From Steve, they calmed. “The best person the world will ever know,” Helena said, with certainty.

To which Steve replied an impish, “Ruth Bader Ginsburg.”

“I will concede that you may have peers. Six-fifteen.”

“I have six hundred and fifteen peers?”

“Myka wants you there at six-fifteen.” Her name, out loud, again...

“Do you really think this is going to be a disaster?”

“That question is, at this point, moot. I tried, but I have met my match.”

“In more ways than one, I guess,” Steve said, but he continued to smile.

That gave Helena leave to answer, “You guess correctly.”

****

At six in the evening on Saturday, Helena stood in her customary spot outside Myka’s door, her customary flowers in hand, second-guessing her decision to bring one extra-large bouquet rather than two this time. But then her thinking and deciding didn’t matter at all, for Myka opened the door and was there, a physical presence not in a City Hall elevator.

Myka didn’t let Helena hand her the flowers, didn’t even get them out of the way; she pulled Helena close and kissed her as if they were alone. A fussy part of Helena wanted to protect the poor bouquet, but that part was outvoted by every other part, bodily and otherwise, all of which were celebrating standing once again in this space, enveloped once again in these arms, being kissed—she kissed soft, Myka did. Belying the body-crush, her mouth was careful, solicitous.

Helena eventually regarded the no-longer-impressive bouquet with a bit of disappointment. “Much as I enjoyed that, you might have let me set these down first.”

“You’re going to have so many more chances to give me flowers, and I’ll give them to you all the time too, and floriculture will flourish around the world thanks to us.”

“‘Floriculture will flourish’? Are you drunk?”

“Not yet, you beautiful... hm. I was going to call you a cheapskate again, but those flowers look like they might have been expensive before somebody made a mess of them.” She raised her voice. “Mom! Helena brought you some pricey smashed flowers!”

Helena said to Jeannie, who wore an extremely smug (and, Helena had to admit, extremely justified) smirk as she approached, “In the interest of accuracy, Helena brought you and your daughter some flowers, which your daughter caused to be smashed. Cost notwithstanding.”

“I saw you participating,” Jeannie said. Helena supposed she could hardly have missed it.

Then came another familiar voice—from the hallway, for Myka had neglected to close the door, Helena heard Abigail say, “That is an interesting euphemism for what they were doing.”

Myka shook a fist at her. “You weren’t supposed to get here before six-fifteen!”

Abigail, unmoved, said, “Like I didn’t know the reason for that.”

Apparently everyone had known the reason for that, and they had all wanted to see the six o’clock show: Rick and Varsha appeared behind Abigail, and Steve and Liam did too, making for a traffic jam not only of bodies but of introductions. Abigail enthused to Steve, of Liam, “He doesn’t disappoint!”

Liam said, “I’m... pleased?”

“I thought he was overselling your looks,” Abigail told Liam. “What with being in swoony love,” she added, and Steve blushed.

Myka said, into Helena’s ear, “Speaking of swoony love, it isn’t possible to oversell you. There aren’t enough words,” and when Helena tried to shush her, Myka kissed the ear she’d just whispered into.

Varsha, upon being introduced to Abigail, said, “Overjoyed to meet you. I was honestly beginning to think none of them knew any actual people.”

Abigail nodded. “It’s just me. Let’s do lunch or something. But only if you aren’t planning to, one, bid on a city contract, and two, fall in love with me, because there’s only so much of this kind of drama I feel like I can handle.”

“I can promise the first one,” Varsha said. “The second, that’s up to fate.”

Rick said, “Wait, what? Are you joking?”

“No,” Varsha said, in such a way as to make Helena wonder whether she ever joked.

To Rick, Abigail said, “You might need to class up your personal plating, Myka’s ex. I’m pretty charming.”

“Also not wallpaper,” Varsha added.

Myka said, “Confirm. She is not wallpaper. Can additionally confirm the charming point.”

“Should I be the one who’s concerned?” Helena asked. “You two are together most all day every day.”

Myka kissed her.

“Thank you for the reassurance,” Helena said.

“I didn’t do it to reassure you,” said Myka, and after smiling at Helena’s raised “then why” eyebrow, she said, “because I can,” and that was even better than reassurance.

Rick said to Myka, “You and I never got this far.”

“This far,” Myka repeated. “This far?”

“Rehearsal dinner.”

Myka squinted at him. “I really like that we can joke about this,” she said.

“Still too soon?”

Now Myka swatted him, her palm against his head. “In perpetuity, you ding-dong.”

Ding-dong? Helena began laughing at how ridiculous such an utterance sounded, certainly from Myka’s mouth, and when Myka looked at her quizzically, she could offer only, “I’ve never heard anyone say that.”

Rick said, “You should’ve hung out with us in—what was it, fourth grade? Some entire school year, it was everybody calling everybody a ding-dong.”

This made Varsha bark a laugh as well. She said, “Oh my god, it’s worse yet also better when you say it.”

To Helena, Myka said, ‘I want to hear you laugh like that in perpetuity. And you are not a ding-dong”—which set Helena off again, and Myka said, “Well, maybe you are,” but she softened it with a sweet nuzzle into Helena’s hair.

In fact throughout the entire evening, Helena found Myka to be physically demonstrative to an extent that was... new. Every time Myka neared Helena, her right arm extended toward Helena’s waist, her hips, eventually settling onto the concavity just where fixed ribs gave way to floating, there on the right side—there, or resting, higher but just as happy, in the middle of Helena’s back. These placements of her hand: Helena found them correct. Feeling the fit, the lock into place. Like sides of the bed.

All this prompted Helena to ask Myka, at a later point when, for a moment, they did not seem to be the center of anyone’s attention, “How much had you been holding back?”

“What do you mean?”

“Before. In contrast with all this contact now, tonight,” Helena said.

“I told you I was going to kiss you and kiss you and kiss you.” And Myka proceeded to do that.

“I did think that was hyperbole. I’m not complaining, but you didn’t do this before.”

“Well, before. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. You were doing me a favor with the engagement. Several favors.”

“I thought I was.”

“Am I making you uncomfortable now? I can stop.”

“Can you?” But Helena was teasing. “I haven’t seen you stop yourself from doing much of anything you want to do. Certainly not anything related to this evening.”

Myka shrugged. “I’m really committed to working toward certain goals.”

Helena regarded the relaxation of Myka’s posture, the playful smile on her lips, the glow of her gaze... and she was struck by, but couldn’t bear, the possibility of Myka being deprived of all this, of having to once again become the pale picture of irritated overwork she had been before. And this was no pretense of happiness, as Myka had said she’d been putting on as part of her project; rather, this was the real thing: Myka happy, not holding back. Yet had they spent enough time together for Helena to be sure that that was so? “Is this how you are, with me?” Helena asked. “Is this how we are?”

“I wouldn’t be bothering otherwise.”

Helena didn’t doubt it. “I’m sorry I haven’t worked as hard as you have. Toward those goals.”

“You can make it up to me later. Long game, you beautiful cheapskate.”

“The bill will come due?” Helena asked, pretend-rueful.

“I certainly hope so.”

“I do too. But can you promise me that we will never have to engage in a performance this ridiculous again?”

Myka put on a show of considering, then said a simple “No.”

****

Scenes from a Rehearsal Dinner

Helena pulls Abigail aside to say, because she has not had a chance to say it, “I thought we weren’t doing this. I thought we were actively keeping her safe. No possibility of public shaming. I did try very hard to—”

“Except for the glasses incident.”

“That was a mistake, one that I, if no one else, made a sincere attempt not to compound. Why are you helping her in this? Why are you not physically preventing me from helping her?”

“Didn’t she tell you her theory?” Abigail asks.

“Oh god, what now.”

“They’d never public-shame her over this, if they find out what she’s really been doing—and if she somehow gets in trouble for any part of it, they will definitely find out, because she’s planning to tell them the entire story, her idea being that it’s too insane.”

“That’s...” Helena begins, but she realizes she has nowhere sensical to go. “Well, that’s....”

Abigail nods. “Right? Because who’s going to call the org chart into a room and say ‘Here’s what you can’t ever do: put on a play about having your cancer recur so as to persuade your boss that you’ve fallen back in love with your ex-fiancé who it turns out is really a contractor who, if you can’t have her, you’ll waste away and die, but you would still like to keep your job, please and thank you.’”

“When you put it that way, I have no idea how anyone could follow it.”

“Exactly. In Myka’s own extremely special way, she’s brilliant... and as far as I can tell, the cancer—and you—really made her drill down on that.”

“Rick does say this isn’t how she behaved in the past,” Helena concedes. “But I’m beginning to think her newly revealed talents are being wasted in her chosen field.”

“Someday she’ll rule the world. And then, I don’t mean to alarm you, but I bet we’ll all be buckling our seat belts and hanging on for dear life. And enjoying it. I mean, look at you: you’re enjoying it right now.”

“‘Enjoying’ may be a shade too positive. In any case, you seem to have a part in the play too.”

“Point taken.” Abigail snickers. “I told her to buy grapefruit, and she asked me why. Never got around to breakfast after that glasses incident?”

“I did not punch her in the face.”

“You’ve said.”

“But I may yet punch you.”

Abigail waves off this concern. “I’m helping. Also, I’m not wearing glasses. So punching me wouldn’t get you going at all.”

Several pizzas arrive. Myka asks Helena, “Did you know there’s such a thing as lobster pizza?”

Before Helena can answer, Rick says, “Why wouldn’t there be? Can’t you slap anything on a pizza crust?”

Abigail says, thoughtfully, “Then again, Myka’s ex, you may be my kind of chef.”

Varsha warns, “Mind yourself, not-wallpaper. I don’t want to have to cancel lunch.” She eyes the pizza boxes. “I also don’t want to have to engage in any avoidance behaviors.”

“No allergens,” Myka tells her. To Helena, she says, “Which means your dreams are safe, too.” Myka then busies herself handing out what she calls “the scenario”—several stapled-together pages of which Helena is as terrified as she ever has been of creatures that are large and have claws. She reads the first line: “First, there was a fountain.” She wishes she weren’t driving; she needs several stiff drinks.

Myka says, “Okay, nobody’s got lines as such because I didn’t have time to learn all the medical terminology, and also I’m not sold on anybody’s ability to get it down by Monday.”

“I love improv,” Liam says as he receives his pages.

“So do I!” Jeannie tells him, and they make exclamatory faces at each other.

Liam continues, “Ooh, can I be one of the doctors?”

Jeannie, for her part, sighs. “I suppose I’m relegated to being the mother.”

“Relegated?” Myka demands. “Mom!”

Helena mutters, “How could this go wrong.”

“You’re such a pessimist,” Myka says.

“Why does that make you smile?”

Jeannie, for the moment embracing her relegation to the role of mother, says to Helena an indulgent, “Everything about you makes her smile.”

\Myka beckons to Helena. “Come with me,” she says, leading her down the hallway, in the direction of the bedroom... raising Helena’s hopes for a brief, scandalized moment... but their destination is instead a different room, this one an office (with air a bit chilly at the moment but not stale; Myka must in fact spend time here) featuring a computer with a large monitor. “Dad’s actually really going to call in this time,” Myka says, “and if I’m trying to hold my phone screen steady he gets seasick. So this works better.”

And indeed, after not much time, there appears a slightly choppy video image of a some-days-bewhiskered older man sitting in the stern of a rowboat. He wears a fishing hat of an incongruous bright red. Whatever technology is enabling the call seems to be his only companion in the boat, yet he regards it as if it has appropriated the entire armrest between them on an airplane.

Myka begins, “Hi, Dad. Any luck?”

“Fishing is not a matter of luck,” her father says; this must be a customary exchange. “It’s skill.”

“Any skill?”

He answers a solemn, “Only on the part of the fish.”

Myka pulls Helena into view of the computer’s camera. She keeps her arm around Helena’s waist as she says, “Dad, this is Helena. Helena, this is my dad, Warren Bering.”

“Helena.” He nods. “Myka’s explained.”

“Has she?” Helena asks. “Fully?”

“How should I know?” he asks in turn, and Helena has to concede that this is a reasonable question.

“I’ll go grab Mom,” Myka announces.

“Wait—” Helena calls, but she is gone. And there Helena still is, expected to speak cogently to Myka’s father. Having recently thought about the time she spent in his daughter’s bedroom. She coughs and says, “I’m pleased to... semi-meet you.”

Myka’s father, who does not seem, based on this first semi-meeting, to be someone given to sentiment, nevertheless offers Helena a kind, if gruff, lifeline. “Semi-same. You want to go fishing?” he asks.

“Do you mean right now?”

He shrugs. “Get on a plane.”

“You have no idea how appealing that sounds.”

“Oh, I have some idea,” he says.

“And yet your wife and daughter would, I suspect, exact revenge on me if I failed to participate.”

“Get used to the feeling. Or leave the family.”

“These are my choices?”

“From where I sit.”

“You’re in a boat,” Helena observes.

“Well, or spend a lot of time fishing.”

“I don’t know how to fish.”

“Guess you’d better participate, then.”

“Or leave the family?”

“Myka hates how red her face gets when she cries,” he says. Factually. As he might state Myka’s age, or her eye color.

“You’re saying that the ‘leave the family’ option is off the table,” Helena tries.

“I’m saying that Myka hates how red her face gets when she cries.”

“You are a member of an overall very strange family.”

He leans against the back of the boat; the change in posture makes him far less forbidding. “I heard your brother married some lady because she wrecked his car,” he says, with a little conjurer’s wave of his right hand.

“Touché,” Helena says.

Helena finds herself standing next to Rick. They are both watching and listening to Myka, who with great animation is detailing for Steve and Liam—and Abigail, but Helena knows that she already knows—the motivations of the characters in “the scenario”: “This is preposterous,” Helena says. “Does anyone honestly expect me to believe that this inclination—this readiness—to deceive is a new development in Myka’s character? It seems far too well-honed.”

Rick says, “She was always really really smart—especially in a get-things-done way—but I swear to you, if I’d known she was likely to turn into somebody like this, I probably wouldn’t have gone out with her in the first place.” He pauses to scratch his blond head. “Or maybe I wouldn’t ever have let her get away? I’m really not sure.”

“Well. Too late,” she tells him, and he bows that blond head in recognition.

He then says, “I need more food,” and wanders off, presumably to find some, mumbling words that sound like “lobster” and “pizza” and “I wish.”

Steve is telling Abigail, “I like your idea about not rerunning what happened before too exactly.” Myka has given her credit, in the written scenario, for this innovation. “I bet Helena likes it too—no blood on her this time.”

Abigail says, “We’re getting fake stuff that doesn’t stain. But also, history doesn’t literally repeat. Or it shouldn’t.”

“It can’t,” Myka says. “Same river twice.”

Abigail comes back with, “Or, better, first time as tragedy, second time as farce.”

“Whatever you say, Marx,” Myka tells her.

Helena mutters, “More like the Marx Brothers in this case.”

“In this case,” Abigail says, “which time is tragedy and which is farce? Genuine question for Myka. I mean the blood situation seems to support Marx’s version, but...”

“No times as tragedy,” Myka says firmly. “First time as TV hospital drama, second time as romantic comedy.”

“Not farce? Really?” Helena asks.

“Not unless the pies start flying,” Myka assures her.

Liam says, “I think that’s technically slapstick.”

Steve laughs and gives Liam a peck on the cheek. “I love you.”

“None of it oversold,” pronounces Abigail.

“You know, you’re right,” Helena says, for Myka chooses that moment to catch her eye and smile. And Helena gives thanks.

“I’m so happy,” Myka says to Helena, as if she’s been trying not to say it but can’t hold it in. Helena welcomes the words both as themselves, and as confirmation that her impression about pretense—or rather, its lack—had been correct.

“Are you?” She doesn’t need to ask the question, but Myka seems to be multiplying her joy by speaking it aloud.

“I am. About all of it. This”—a kiss—“and also that everybody knows everything now.”

Helena feels compelled to state, “Not everybody. Not yet.”

“I just said I’m happy. Quit raining on my parade.”

“It is quite a parade. And yet Rick seems to be sleeping through it.” She points at Rick, who is on the sofa, head back, eyes closed, mouth open.

“Hey, mister!” Myka says at him, and his eyes snap open. “Nap on your own time.”

“This is my own time,” Rick objects. But he says to Abigail, who happens to be beside him at that moment. “I think I did fall asleep during part of the briefing. Are they engaged in this version?”

“Not yet. The email proxy, remember?”

“Right. Sorry. I’m just tired. Long shifts. I’ll read the cheat sheet later.” He pulls a decorative pillow to him, clasps his arms around it, and closes his eyes again. Embroidered on the pillow is a fine-featured monkey, attired to assist an organ-grinder. If Rick were wearing a fez, their kinship would be unmistakable. As it is, Helena is left to wonder why Myka has a decorative pillow that depicts a fez-wearing monkey, why she herself has never noticed that fact before, and how Myka manages not only to say things Helena does not expect but also to decorate in that way too.

Helena feels a tap on her shoulder; she turns to see Jeannie. “Mm?” Helena asks. (She imagines both Charles and Myka laughing at her for it.)

Jeannie sighs, with great ostentation. Then she points at Helena and says, “Words about destiny.”

“Mm,” Helena now says. “Myka told you. That much of it?” Everybody knows a far greater portion of everything than I was aware, she thinks.

“My daughter is a lovely person.”

“I... know?”

“But she is a talker.”

“Also known,” Helena says.

“And yet not with everyone. In fact with very few. It’s a sign.”

“Suspected, yet not entirely known. Very much appreciated, however.”

“Destiny,” Jeannie maintains.

“I don’t disagree. Also very much appreciated.”

Myka, carrying two full wine glasses, clearly in transit, bends her head to kiss Helena’s cheek. She says, “Told you it sounded more upbeat than fate,” kisses her once more, then moves on.

“Thank you,” Helena says to Jeannie.

“For?”

The entirety of this gift. “The unanticipated.”

Rick and Varsha are the last to leave, save Helena herself. She suspects Abigail and Steve and Liam, who departed together, are staging some sort of private afterparty of their own.

Jeannie hugs Rick. “Didn’t I tell you that you’d find a nice young lady?” she says.

“I don’t prefer to be thought of as nice,” Varsha informs her. She evades a hug, as if to prove her point.

“You’ve been perfectly nice to me,” Jeannie says, though with a tinge of thwarted-hug disappointment. “I asked if you’d mind if I ate the last piece of the pizza that had the artichoke hearts, and you said ‘not at all,’ even though we both liked that one best.”

“I did say that,” Varsha allows, but with a hostile witness’s displeasure that this overzealous prosecutor is using her past statements against her.

“So you’re nice under certain circumstances,” the prosecutor continues, and Myka nudges Helena and murmurs what’s a circumstance. “Are you nice to Rick?”

Rick hurries to say, “It’s all good, Mrs. B.”

Jeannie crosses her arms. “I didn’t ask you, mister.”

Helena doesn’t bother to hold back a laugh. “And just like that, you turn into Myka.”

“I’m her mother.”

Myka, for her part, doesn’t bother to hold back a snort: “Don’t even try acting like you’re proud of that, Mom. Somebody named you was complaining about being relegated.”

“In the play.”

“Also, you’re the one who got upset about not being called in to get all relegated the first time.”

“That was real.”

“Would you be happier if this were too? I could always knock back a shot or two of H. pylori.”

Helena says, “Do. Not. Tempt. Fate.” Myka gives her a comical stare, and Helena sighs and amends, “Destiny.” To Jeannie, she notes, “But I am not saying words about it.”

Varsha says, “Fate or no, I would be very interested in the case if she did knock back those shots.”

“I’m not sure what reading that gets on the ‘nice’ meter,” Jeannie says.

“Throws its calibration off completely,” Rick says. “It never works again.”

“I do like you,” Varsha tells him.

Jeannie says she will busy herself “collecting pizza boxes,” a euphemism for “ignoring the two infatuated women saying goodnight in the magic foyer.”

Myka’s conspiratorial whisper to Helena: “I’d ask you to stay, but my mother’s here.”

“Sneak out,” Helena whispers back.

“Who sneaks out of their own apartment?” Myka says this as part of a smile against Helena’s neck.

“You make me so strangely happy.”

A chuckle. “I’ll leave her a note. Still think it should say ‘be right back’? How fast are you feeling?”

“Happy,” Helena reaffirms. “But strangely so,” she adds, as well as, “Aren’t you glad you didn’t find a part for Charles in the play? Otherwise he’d be at my house, and what would we do then?”

“It’s like you never heard of this amazing invention called a hotel room. They’re incredibly romantic, plus you get clean towels every day if you don’t care about the environment.”

“You make it sound like a very judgmental place.”

“Or you can hang up the ‘do not disturb’ sign and save the environment.”

“I don’t think that’s technically what that sign is for.”

“You’re not very into mixed-use design, are you? Which is weird for an urban architect. But I’m not worried; I’ll meet Charles eventually. And in the meantime, he’s not here.”

“He is not.” And in any case Helena would throw him out into the street if it meant she could be alone with Myka...

“Don’t tell him I said this—because I want him to like me—but: good.”

****

When Helena opened her door to Myka this time, she did not need to ask “why are you here,” and she did not need to wish that Myka would push her way in: after only a breath of standing and looking, Helena pulled her, because she wanted to get Myka to the bedroom as fast as she could, not because either of them needed to be fast, but to make sure that she was there, where Helena had feared she would never be, before anything happened to prevent it.

“If this doesn’t work,” Helena said, as Myka smiled at her haste, “and I don’t see how it could, so I should say when this doesn’t work...”

“Then it’s your turn to dream something up. I know you can.” Myka stopped moving, which drew Helena to a halt too. “You will, won’t you?”

Myka’s voice held not doubt, not exactly, but somewhere within that light won’t you Helena felt a vibration, a reed disturbed by a breath of unease. “We’ll move to Maine and refuse to fish for lobsters,” she said, because she would dream something up. Something, anything—because nothing was more important than this. How could she have thought otherwise?

“From a fountain that doesn’t exist. Don’t forget that part.”

She would dream something up. She took Myka’s hand, kissed it, and began to lead her once again. “I will never, ever forget that part.”

TBC

#bering and wells #Warehouse 13 #fanfic #Helicobacter #AU week #part 14 #sorry about not linking to the other parts #but being flagged really shook me #plus the fact that ‘Santa’ (my second holiday story) didn’t show up in searches or tags #was I already on some watch list?#but while some characters in what I write do engage in adult behaviors #I wouldn't be embarrassed to show any of it to my mother #or to anybody else #(well maybe a little embarrassed)#(but I'm always a little embarrassed)#(if you aren't at least a little embarrassed then in my opinion you haven't put enough of yourself into the work)

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