Look. If you don’t want to continue reading my 600,000+ word, toxic, coming of age, trauma dump WIP, then just stop reading it. There’s no need to tell me you think it’s morally gray. I already know that.
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This image and this story have been sitting in my drafts since 2023. I just returned from a weekend of fandom shenanigans with friends at TGIFemslash and just always feel inspired and motivated to finish old things after that. So here’s one from the drafts that’s been marinating way too long. (There are others.)
To The Moon Beam
What harm could it do?
You'd made out in the Warehouse a million times.
"Can't turn a single corner in that place without bumping into you two bumping into each other," Pete had once said of what he called your prowess.
You weren't even a little embarrassed about it and judging by the way Helena had smiled across the table at you, she was proud to be a contributor.
"Not even the Dark Vault is safe," Claudia had mused.
Abigail, who rarely ever had business on the Warehouse floor (and who rarely ever made your business hers), had supplied, "I have learned the hard way not to go wandering through The Garden on Tuesday afternoons."
"Any afternoon," Steve piped up, "that used to be my sanctuary."
“The Garden of Curiosities was your sanctuary?” Helena challenged. “Some of the deadliest flora in the world grow there and you’ve been using it to meditate?”
“That’s a lot of attitude for someone who has scandalized half the plants in that place,” Steve balked.
“Well,” Helena started without ever concluding, her smile growing much much wider.
A million. Times.
So you’d been cautious in the warehouse. Always. At all times. But when it came to bumping into Helena and bumping Helena into things, you’d been extra cautious.
But today...
Today Helena slips.
Helena slips and she's falling and she says, "No," as if saying such a thing will immediately put gravity in its place and stop the momentum which has already been thrust into place.
Thrust, you think with extra emphasis, for just a while longer.
A far more accurate word than bump. A more deserving word.
"No," Helena says again as she braces for the impact of her head against the ground, even as you cradle your arms around that skull to protect the genius within from the impending impact.
But there is no impact. There is nothing. No smack. No crack. No pain to follow.
No ground at all.
Only Helena saying, "No!" more urgently, followed by "no no no no no!"
And then you are falling again but this time, this time, you are falling...
Up?
"Nooo!" you finally agree, catching on while trying to catch Helena's hand as you both drift up, up, and away from the floor, away from each other.
"What did I touch?" Helena yells across at you, reaching, trying to swim through the air.
"I didn't exactly have time to investigate!"
Up and up you go, and Helena, too. Drifting further apart. Stretching. Reaching. Never catching each other's hands.
"Myka, get to the beam!" Helena points.
"What do you think I'm trying to do?"
“Well if you’re trying to get the beam, you are failing miserably!”
“I don’t see you holding on to any beam!”
Just as you reach (and miss) and float further away, Helena catches her beam and has the unmitigated gall to flash a smug, accomplished smile in your direction. Even as your direction floats farther and farther away from her.
“This is all your fault!” You remind her, for good measure.
“Beam!” she yells, just as you knock your head against one.
“Ouch!” Despite the newly acquired concussion, you catch it just in time.
“Nice catch!”
“You could have warned me before my head hit it!”
“I have been warning you! I’ve been screaming ‘get the beam, beam Myka, beam’ this whole entire time!”
"You didn't say which beam. You didn't say where the beam was!"
"Where else would they be but up?" Helena challenges.
"Don't yell at me, I'm concussed."
"I think you're fine." But she isn't the one whose eyes can no longer see clearly and speaking of bumps, you're definitely going to have one.
Only then do you realize the impact of your head hitting the beam has knocked your glasses off of your face and they are now drifting away into a distant blur.
"Do you have your phone?"
"No," you tell Helena, reaching for your glasses and clutching only air.
You contemplate launching yourself off of this beam and to the beam Helena is currently wrapped around, and attempting to catch your glasses along the way.
"Leave them," Helena demands, having clearly invested in a mind-reading hobby, "before you fall."
"I don't think I can fall!"
"I don't think you should try to find out when we don't even know what's put us up here in the first place."
You groan because she's right. Even if you are still holding onto the beam to stop yourself from drifting away. Even if you do still feel your body being pulled upward. The force of that pull isn't very strong. It isn't enough for you to trust how far up you are, how much further you'll go, or how very far away Helena is from you now.
And whose to say whatever put you there won't just... wear off.
"Why don't you have your phone?"
"You took my phone, Helena. Remember? Why don’t you have your phone?”
But you already know the answer to that. Helena just hates having to carry it around with her. She doesn’t understand why it is to be relied upon. And she doesn’t need it when you’re near.
She ignores your inquiry altogether to make another point.
"Why would I take your phone?"
"Because it was an imposition, your words, as you were shoving your hands into my back pockets," you remind her, pointing down - and down, down, down, way down - to the tiny, minuscule, faraway shelf in an aisle you can no longer see because your glasses are no longer on your face.
Where did your glasses float off to?
“I have them!” You can hear more than you can see Helena stretching to reach your glasses as they float precariously close to her faraway beam.
“Please remember that we are trying not to fall,” you warn her.
“I said I have them.” You can hear the accomplishment in her voice. She actually does have them now.
“Show off.”
“Now, to get down,” she says, as if everything is business as usual.
Then voices from below.
“Myka’s phone is pinging somewhere over here but I don’t hear any salaciousness in progress.” That’ll be Pete.
Claudia warns, “Be careful. They could literally be anywhere. Around any corner. Exposing any body parts.”
Then Abigail, “One time I found them on a shelf. I had no idea these things were so sturdy.”
Steve, sounding like he put up a good fight before being dragged into the warehouse, states, “I just don’t think it’s fair we have to constantly be reminded that they’re the only two people in this place having a great time.”
“Until Myka pisses H.G. off,” Pete chuckles. “Then nobody’s having a great time.”
Helena says, “The nerve,” but she says it quietly from her perch.
You hear the ringtone you assigned to Pete’s phone calls emanating from your phone below. (It’s audio from a surveillance video of him falling off of a ladder in Artie’s office.)
“A-ha!” He says. “But no Myka.”
“And no Helena,” Abigail observes.
“A little help!” Helena calls down and they must all look up at once because you hear:
Pete: You’re doing doing it wrong.
Claudia: Oh, thank god they have clothes on.
Steve: You guys have really taken this too far.
Abigail: Are you two okay?
“Thank you for asking, Abigail!” You give her credit where credit is due. “The rest of you can go suck it!”
“Your libido got you into this mess, not us,” Pete teases.
“Can you just help us get down from here, please?”
“Are you okay, Helena?” You ask squinting across the way at her.
“I’m quite all right. Just tired of being up here and beginning to feel the pull of gravity.”
In that exactly moment, Helena’s foot slips downward from the beam and while she catches herself, something falls from her person - a boot perhaps? - and plummets to the ground at a speed far greater than anything that would be falling off of Helena.
“That didn’t seem right,” you tell her.
“No.” Helena’s voice is quiet, now dripping with worry. “That was not right at all.”
“Did you lose a shoe?” You ask.
From below, Pete yells, “Are you dropping anvils down here, Looney Tunes style?”
“Oh, good idea, Pete,” Claudia starts, “let’s go stand directly under them and stare at whatever just cratered the warehouse floor. Surely they won’t lose another,” Claudia’s voice stalls then asks, “are those Myka’s glasses?”
Abigail then jokes, “Exactly how strong is your prescription, Myka?”
“Were those my glasses?” You ask, but Helena is quiet. “Helena?”
“Myka, love, just do me a favor and center your weight on the beam, and do not move.”
You do as you’re told. When Helena’s voice sounds like it sounds in this moment, you always just do what you’re told.
“What did you touch?” Claudia yells upward.
“We don’t know,” Helena yells down. “But whatever it was, the polarity appears to be reversing.”
“Yeah,” Claudia calls up, “we can see that.”
“We were just there,” Helena informs.
She must point or gesture or perhaps nothing at all. You don’t have eyes on her right now but even if you did, you’re not so sure you could see much of her.
“Oh, do you mean by this shelf of gravity affecting artifacts that is,” and Claudia’s voice goes up significantly louder, more clearly annoyed, “completely knocked about!?”
“That shelf isn’t the only thing that’s been knocked about,” Pete teases.
“Good one,” Abigail praises. You hear the too-familiar sound of a prop-giving high-five.
“Focus!” You yell down, feeling exactly why Helena had warned you about staying still.
Your entire body feels heavy, pressing down against the metal beam, and it sparks a vague memory of you being tricked into riding something called The Gravitron as a kid. That spinning, belt-less death trap of a carnival ride.
“What’s the point in defending the warehouse when you two do more damage than any intruder we’ve ever had?”
“Isn’t he one to talk,” Helena tells you softly.
“Shut up, Pete!” You yell at him on her behalf. “Helena?” You call out.
“I’m all right,” she calls back but she doesn’t sound all right. “Just feeling a little,” she laughs softly, “a little depressed.”
“Good one, H!” Pete yells up.
You roll your eyes and remind them they have a job to do. “I’d rather Helena and I not become pancakes today, if that’s all right with you all.”
“Pete’s right. You got your horny selves into this mess,” Abigail calls up. “Not us.”
“I’m not feeling very supported in this moment, doctor!” you yell at her.
“Is this a bad time to bring up the fact that those beams are bending?” Steve asks.
Multiple voices say from below, “What?”
There is silence. Followed by expletives. Followed by conversation that you cannot follow because they’re speaking among themselves, not loud enough for you to hear. You suppose that’s intentional. If your death had been imminent, you certainly wouldn’t want to know.
“All right,” Claudia finally calls up, “we’re just going to goo this whole area and hope for the best.”
“And if that doesn’t work?” Helena calls down. She sounds almost out of breath. Exhausted.
“I said we’re going to hope for the best!” Claudia emphasizes. “Keep your depressed thoughts to yourself, woman!”
“Helena,” you call out to her again.
“I’m okay,” she says softly. She must hear the concern in your voice. “I’m all right.”
“You don’t sound all right.”
“It’s just… hard to breathe… I just…”
The pipes rattle below you as the gooery is coaxed into action.
You hear an unconvincing sputter followed by a more confident spray.
The unmistakeable sound of a tiny fireworks display surrounds.
Soft flashes of light bounce off of beams and ceiling above you.
And then you feel relief.
The pressure lifting at the end of the ride.
A breath of a laugh escapes you and you say, “Oh, thank god.”
Then you turn that relieving smile on Helena and call out to her but she doesn’t move.
“Helena?” You sit up.
She’s lying on her belly along the beam. Her arm and head are over the edge of that beam, hanging limply. You’re not even sure her eyes are open.
“Helena…”
“She’s up!” you hear the cheers from below.
“Something’s wrong with Helena!”
The cheers immediately fade to silence.
She’s not getting up. Not waking up. And from what you can see, she’s not very secure on that beam. If she shifts in the wrong direction, she’ll fall.
There’s more talk and movement and yelling from below but you’re standing. You’re walking. You’re moving towards the closest cross beam you can just barely see with eyes that just barely work.
“Mykes… Myka that doesn’t seem like a great idea,” Pete calls up at you.
“Yeah, maybe you want to crawl instead of sprinting across the beams while you’re blind and have nothing to catch you,” Claudia suggests.
“She’s going to fall!” You call back down to them, minding your steps, arms out in balance as you reach the cross-beam. It’s even further away from Helena than you were before but it’ll get you where you need to be. Eventually. “Don’t worry about me. Figure out a way to get us down.”
The rest of their conversation is too low for you to hear but you have a sense of them scattering in different directions while you continue making your way to Helena.
She still hasn’t moved.
Claudia’s right, though. You should be crawling. Hands and knees. You are far too clumsy for this.
But that would take time. Too much time.
If Helena stopped breathing? You don’t have time to waste. If she wakes up confused and moving in the wrong direction? You don’t have time to waste.
“Be breathing, stay asleep. Be breathing, stay asleep.”
You repeat this mantra to yourself as if Helena will somehow hear it through you, as you walk with one foot in front of the other in front of the other in front of the other.
It doesn’t even matter that you look down because you can’t see a damn thing without your glasses. Just a blur of brown and gray and purple. Four blurry dots moving frantically about.
“Be breathing, stay asleep.”
You hear something being dragged along the warehouse floor. More shouting as Pete, Claudia, Abigail, and Steve coordinate their movements, now several aisles away.
You reach Helena’s beam and start working your way up to her.
“Be breathing,” you tell her under your breath. “Breathe,” you tell yourself.
As you get closer to her, you see her foot fall over the opposite edge of the beam. It’s a good sign if she’s stirring. It’s not a good sign if she’s waking up.
You pick up the pace.
Left foot, right foot. Left foot, right foot. Don’t trip. Don’t trip. Be breathing. Stay asleep.
It doesn’t matter that you look down. You can’t see without your glasses. But brown and gray and purple and four fuzzy dots and…
A bounce house?
You slow and squint at the structure as it expands and fills up the main aisle, which isn’t quite big enough to accommodate its size.
Then you hear Helena’s voice. A soft moan. Slight movement of the hand that is dangling from the beam.
“Helena, don’t move,” you tell her, picking up your pace again. “Stay still. I’m coming to you. Don’t move or you’ll fall.”
She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t move either. And by the time you get to her, she’s still again. Limp. Lifeless.
“Helena.” You sit. “Helena.” You straddle the beam just behind her, gripping the belt loops of her trousers to keep her in place and moving her legs to straddle the beam as well. “Helena, honey. Wake up.” You pull at her those belt loops and move your arms around her waist until your hands clasp together and you can safely pull her up into a seated position, and back against your chest.
She coughs. She lets out a nasally whimper. Her head falls back against your shoulder and you hold her closer, tighter.
“Wake up,” you whisper and kiss her ear, “Helena.”
“Myka…”
Her hands move to your hands wrapped around her waist. She gently squeezes.
“Hey.” You smile and kiss her temple, kiss her cheek, and tell her not to move and when she opens her eyes you say, “Welcome back.”
She smiles softly and says, “Hi.”
“I don’t know if you remember but we’re really high up,” you whisper then kiss her shoulder. “So I need you to stay still.”
“I remember,” Helena whispers, reaching a hand up to touch your cheek, “you being way over there.”
Helena points to the beam you had previously occupied.
“How did you get all the way over here?”
“Well,” you start but think better of elaborating. You simply say, “Very carefully.”
“I dropped your glasses.”
“I know,” you say this nuzzling against her cheek, “it’s okay. We just need to make sure we don’t drop ourselves before we figure out how to get down.”
In the next moment, Helena’s eyes widen and she sits slightly up and turns to you, though she isn’t looking at you, and asks, “Is that Leena’s?”
You think she must be concussed. Or hallucinating. Who knows what side effects could come from the as-yet-unknown artifact they’d come into contact with.
But when you question her with furrowed brows and the back of your hand against her forehead, she just rolls her eyes, sets a gentle finger to your chin, and turns your head in the direction she’s looking.
It’s the bounce house, rising up between the beams from the warehouse floor. Molded to look like Leena’s B&B and damn near the size of it.
“Are we meant to be jumping into that thing?” You question.
Helena shrugs and says, “I think so.”
“You’re hardly in any position to be standing. Let alone launching yourself into a floating, inflatable bed and breakfast.”
“I just don’t know that I trust it.”
From below, Claudia shouts, “Get! Into! The inflatable!”
If you could see, you still wouldn’t be able to see Claudia. She’s hidden somewhere below the makeshift balloon.
“Take off your shoes,” you direct Helena and the scoff she replies with tells you that she is nearly back to her normal, oxygenated self. “Here.” You kick off your own shoe and it falls and falls and falls at what seems to be a normal speed. It makes a normal sort of thudding sound. Followed by a normal sort of protest from Pete below.
“Hey, watch it with the size tens, Sasquatch!”
“Shut up!” you yell back for good measure.
“Get into! The bounce house!” Claudia tries again.
“We’re working on it!” You call back. Then to Helena, “Shoes.”
You hold out one hand while still holding tight to Helena with your other as she takes off a boot. You throw the boot at the opening of the inflatable. It bounces inside and the balloon doesn’t move an inch. You hold your hand out to her again and she takes off the other boot. That one, too, makes it in with no disruption.
“Seems sturdy enough,” you tell her, returning your hand to her waist. “Want me to go first?”
“If we’re going down, we might as well go down together.”
“Romantic,” you whisper, pressing another kiss to her ear.
You stand, and you help Helena stand, and you steady her when she looks like she might lose her balance.
“Vertigo,” she tells you softly. You help her turn toward you and you pull her close to you, arms wrapped around her back as she moves her arms over your shoulders.
“How is it that I always end up being yoinked up into the sky when I’m around you?”
“I guess I just have that effect on you,” Helena says with a growing smile.
“Sure you do.”
“I swear to god! If you guys don’t jump! Into the bounce house! Right this second! I’m getting my crossbow!”
You puff out a soft laugh at Claudia’s ultimatum and Helena buries her laugh into your shoulder.
“Ready?” you whisper that ask into her ear and thrill at the way Helena still visibly shivers when you speak to her in this way.
“As ready as one can be for jump into a floating, inflatable bed and breakfast that’s hovering several hundred feet above the ground.”
Your smile is sympathetic, and your kiss, although risky, seems to steady her.
I am… re-reading Ages because I need to wrap up these next chapters but I don’t know when I went in there and decided there would only be two chapters left.
I remember wanting to break up the story into three parts because I thought a one million word fic was overkill, but I think the general consensus is if anyone is going to read a one million word fic, it’s the bwing & yells fandom.
And I just don’t want to break it up.
Also, in re-reading Ages, I can’t believe I ever thought that Impressions was going to be my little on-the-side trauma dump fic.
Ages is such a trauma dump, I feel like I should apologize for writing such elongated theatrics into existence.
And yet, I have like 20 more chapters in my notes.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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