#If only we could hold on

[oxideblack]

[lady-wallace]

Whumptober Day 1

Kicking off Whumptober 2024 with an art collab with my good friend @waffles-in-winter ! She is writing this fantastic Fairy!Giorno AU with GioTrish goodness (and is also borrowing my OCs from the Hearts of Gold verse ^_^)

It is so much fun, please go READ IT HERE

And now for today's illustration (I have more character art for this fic too, which I will post later)

[psychologeek]

Whumptober #1:

Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.”

Part of "The Cyclist AU", where Jason never went back to Gotham, instead went living a quiet (sort of) civilian life. One day, at work,he sees a gala and immediately realising it isn't Bruce.

What's wrong? Someone asks and–

(Her hair smells like pomegranate and her fingers are soft on his palm and–)

"That's okay," her voice is confident. "That's okay. We can fix it. Just breathe for me, alright Jay?"

(He can do that.)

There's something touching his hand. Moving.

There's something under his palm. Moving.

"In."

There's–

"And out."

Something 

"Yes, just like this Jay."

Moving.

(He takes a deep breath.)

~

She never asked him.

She had never, not once, asked him about what happened. About before.

(He waited for it. He waited for the blame and the hurt in her voice, making plans and building castles of false stories.)

But she never asked, and so he never said. And he can't– he doesn't know where to start, honestly. What to do. There are many stories that aren't his to tell. He struggles, fighting his words, trying to explain what he saw (the TV and the news and the photos and Gotham and–)

"I think my dad is gone," is what comes up. "I think... I think he's dead."

I thought I had time, he doesn't say. I thought–

"Oh, Jay," she says. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"I never got the chance to say goodbye," whispers a child in red-green-and-yellow.

(Like it? I have more mini-fics Whumptober index | And full size fics on ao3. )

[bumblee27]

Boo! Guess who's doing Whumptober? I hope y'all are prepared for how many times I'm going to kill off each member of Sherlock & Co. (My interpretations of prompts will definitely vary across fandoms, but it will be quite a lot of torturing the silly detectives <3) Also I apologise for the layout they're all gonna be like this :'D

• 1 • "if only we could hold on" •

It wasn't his fault. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins, blinding him to danger - as is the way of the soldier. He was so fixed on the thrill of the chase, he didn't hear Sherlock's warning shout. He didn't see the empty elevator shaft.

That is, until he was already falling.

Alarm bells of terror screamed within him, but his military reflexes threw out an arm with lightning speed to catch himself on a ledge. His whole body jolted to discover that it was no longer falling, but instead almost impossibly suspended.

He gasped for breath as he processed his situation, his heart thudding inside his chest. He had just barely managed to grab onto a part of the elevator's unfinished mechanic built into the wall. The entrance through which he had fallen was about as far away as his own height three or four times over. Beneath him was (as John perceived it) endless nothingness.

“Shit.”

He had processed it.

“Shit, shit shit shit, oh my god, oh my fucking god-”

John had always scorned the trope of seeing one's life flash before their eyes. He called it cliché. Unrealistic. But now, he watched.

As his blood pounded in his ears and he grew increasingly aware of his hand growing slippery with sweat, he watched

He saw his childhood home in Shoscombe. He saw his school friends playing in the street. He saw the way his mum couldn't help herself from crying when she told him his dad wasn't coming home. He saw Afghanistan, he saw Ukraine. He saw his comrades, little more than blurry faces now. He saw the first time he got the mic running. He saw Stamford, he saw- he watched himself meet Sherlock. That man, so strange, so - covered in blood - why did he ever go to look at a flat with him?

He almost smiled.

He was glad he did, though.

He watched himself meet Mariana for the first time, too, and the day she moved in with them. He watched every single case, one after the other, tick by. Such significant moments of his life, gone in a second like they meant nothing.

“John!”

John snapped back to reality with a start. He looked up, to see Sherlock's face staring down at him. “Take my hand!”

The outstretched arm was miles away. “I- I can't!”

“Yes, you can! Take it!”

“It's too far!”

“Reach! For God's sake, Watson, take my hand!”

John swallowed thickly, feeling strangely like he had eaten sand. “I am not dragging you down with me.”

Sherlock blinked. “What-? Don't be ridiculous!”

“You can't let him get away. Promise me you won't.”

“Take. The bloody. Hand!" John had never seen Sherlock desperate before. He was always so stubborn, so sure of himself.

He took a deep breath. “Please- please tell Mariana I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Sherlock.”

And then his hand lost its grip.

He was vaguely aware of Sherlock screaming his name, but he didn't quite register it, which was probably a good thing.

And one memory stayed firmly and vividly in his mind. It was a picture, a freeze-frame, of Mariana and Sherlock.

They were laughing.

[callaeidae3]

Whumptober2024 Day 1: Race against the clock

Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.”

If only we hadn't had to come this far...

If only you could feel okay again.

[asjjohnson]

I tried joining Whumptober 2024 :D

I did 10 out of 31 official prompts (in one chapter).

A Danny Phantom fanfic, about Dan and Valerie on the run in the Ghost Zone, searching for a place somewhere beyond Clockwork's reach.

However, with ghosts like Skulker and Walker on the search for them, and Clockwork having control throughout the known Ghost Zone, they have to explore the dangerous farther realms. Places not as close to the human realm, with a looser hold on reality, time, and place.

---

The idea I'd had was to somehow incorporate all 139 possible prompts into a long fic. ...I didn't get very far on it this month, but hopefully I'll complete the fic later.

[clumsyhissingcat]

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK

Search Party | Panic Attack | “If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)

OC Whump

Hi, this is my first time posting content and this is my first contribution to Whumptober. It's about OC, so if you have any questions about them or the universe…I'd obviously be more than happy to answer! Also, English isn't my first language, so i apologize for any mistake. Check the tags for TW and enjoy !

Damp corridor, metal doors, one, two, three, a staircase down to the right, a corridor to the left - stairs are slippery and narrow - a first flight of steps, a second, plunged into the gloom that only his wolf's eyes can pierce, then a step that opens onto a wide underground stone corridor. He lunges forward.

A hand grabs him by the shoulder, closes over the dirty, damp fabric of his hoodie, restraining him.

-Detection spell, Gend whispers in his ear.

With a complex gesture of his left hand, the man disperses the spell into oblivion. They'll know they've been compromised, but not to what extent. Silver barely waits the explosion of the spell before resuming his advance through the tunnel, Gend at his heels illuminated by a luminous orb floating in the air. They make rapid progress, a running pace that Silver would certainly turn into a desperate rush forward if the other entity let him.

They both know what's at stake. The stakes. They've had breakfast with him, filled out papers on his advice, exchanged reading recommendations. They've seen him smile, they've teased him, they've watched him bleed and fight and bandage their wounds.

It's not fatigue that makes Gend's heart beat so fast, nor stupidity that drives Silver to keep going and turn the town upside down while his whole body betrays a deep exhaustion that worsens with each passing hour.

There will come a time when they can't take it anymore.

The corridor leads to a larger, circling, rocky room with three doors and a continuation of the corridor a little further on.

Silver suddenly yelps, and the older man suddenly raises his hand, ready to protect the only other member of their Triumvirate left with all his might. But no danger threatens, and yet the werewolf drops to the ground with a deep breath. Gend stares at him, expectant. Clearly, his companion had found something. A lead, a clue, anything that could confirm that they were on the right track, that they weren't making a mistake and wasting time on something that would lead them nowhere. It's been five days.

Silver raises her head in a jerky movement. Large, gold-spangled eyes, glittering with the manic energy of a man who hasn't slept in days, meet Gend's.

-That's his scent. He was here, he was here !

Silver spins around, his nose twitching in a very non-human way, trying to gather all the information he can find. Gend focus on the tiny traces of aura he can still perceive. It's faint, very faint, but he manages to feel the trace of a cold, sharp energy, the one he associates with their third member. A knot tightens in his stomach as a wave of despair washes over him, numbs his frozen fingers. A burning bitterness rising in his throat and lodging just behind his tongue.

Armand was there, so close, so close of a rescue perhaps, they missed him by maybe a few hours, and now maybe this mistake will sign his doom...

Silver straightened up and opened one of the doors on the left. Whatever the room contains makes him freeze on the threshold, and Gend pushes the fear that's stirring further into his stomach so he can go and support his teammate. Reaching behind him, however, he understands his shock.

Thick chains hang from the wall.

Gend's sense of smell is not as good as Silver's, but good enough to recognize the faint,metallic odor tickling his nostrils. His chest constricts painfully.

They knew. They knew Armand was being tortured, of course, but it's different to find concrete proof.

For a few seconds, the only sound in the underground is their two ragged breaths, then Silver turns and strides off down the tunnel.

-Silver...!

-Come on, we must be close, if we can find more clues, if we can exploit this lead, we can...

The werewolf stumbles and barely regains his balance. He has to lean on the wall with one hand to keep from collapsing.  His heartbeat is strangely violent and irregular, and his magic erratic. The knot in Gend's stomach tightens. They're exhausted, they're clumsy, they're going to make mistakes, endanger themselves unnecessarily and endanger Armand. A few hours is a long time, and the trail is already cold.

-Silver, he repeats softly.

-Fuck, no, Gend ! Explodes his friend. No ! They're torturing him ! He's been alone with them for a week ! I'm not leaving him ! As long as I can breathe, as long as I can stand, then I can keep looking for him ! So go back to the guild if you want, but leave me out of it, okay ?!

His anger poorly conceals his fear and the sobs beneath his cries.

-You can barely stand, Silver ! hisses Gend.

-I can, chokes his friend. I can still stand. If I can just hold on a little longer, then I can find him, bring him home...

-Not like this ! Gosh, your body's giving out ! Just a few more hours. Just a few hours. Please. Five hours of sleep, one meal, and I swear we'll be on our way. There's an inn next to that building. Silver, please...

And reasoning with Silver Shein when someone he loves is in danger has never been easy, but the guardian is also one of Gend's loved ones and he has lost enough over the last week. If he has to use other means of persuasion, he will.

-Three hours, growls a hoarse voice. And you report our position to Brian so one of his teams can come and investigate the damn tunnel.

-Yes ! nods the bar manager.

He chooses not to point out to Silver that he would never have left this trail unexplored. His friend is beyond exhaustion, and Gend will pass on this unpleasant innuendo.

Armand is his friend just as much as Silver is, and every cell in his body is screaming at him to keep going, to plunge deeper into the darkness, motivated by the mad hope of finding the part of himself that's missing at the end of this tunnel.

But of the three, Gend has always been the most reasonable, the voice of reason. For now, he has the means to preserve one of the people dear to his heart. He won't lose one to another.

Silently, as he heads for the exit alongside Silver, he begs Armand to hold on a little longer.

[kazimakuwabara]

Monkies And The Weasel

Summary: The game comes to an end. But the Weasel is triumphant in his end. (Meant to be Whump, but it just hurts!) Lupin the third fanfiction

Words: about 1k.

Was inspired by the prompt "If only we could hold on"

***

It was a game, even when someone got hurt, even when someone died. It was all a gag of laughs. They were a barrel of monkeys running around in circles, chasing the weasel, and being chased by the weasel. They ran, and ran, laughing, smiling, and taking swipes at the soft spots on the back of each other's heads. It was so fun, so fun, so dizzying and fun!

All around the mulberry bush, the monkeys chased the weasel.

And at the Pop, they’d switch places and the weasel chased the monkeys.

Pop!

Switch.

Pop!

Switch.

Again, and again, and again, and again, until-

BANG.

The gunshot echoed too loudly, and the air shifted. Lupin stopped laughing, his foot stuck in the rung of a ladder. Jigen and Goemon had a hold of his arms, pearls, and diamonds hanging off their necks like a stream of dazzling stars. Fujiko was in the pilot’s seat of the helicopter, the passenger seat filled with bags of money and her share of gems. A tiara with a golden veil glittered in her hair.

Her golden honey color, and the strands of dazzling twinkles dripping from his two closest friends became grizzly and grotesque at the sound of that gunshot, and a short cut-off cough.

Air being punched out of a lung. Lupin turned, knowing before he saw, that the weasel had been caught. His eyes landed on Koichi Zenigata, his hated rival, his beloved friend, the hound, his pops, his paramour, his shadow, his noose, his lock and key. Zenigata’s hand was caught, still reaching for Lupin, his expression still fierce and determined as he reached for him. But it was changing. The fun was falling away. At the pocket of his coat, there was a small smoking little hole. It bubbled, and a small stream of blood trickled out like a fountain taking the color from Zenigata’s face. The angry, the cunning, the obsessive glint that always lit the Inspector’s face with a light that matched Lupin’s greed, coyness, and insanity, drained. Gray entered his brown cheeks like a creeping cold frosting the earth, and he looked down at the blood spilling from him. He was so surprised to see his life blood blooming on his chest. He looked back up at Lupin, and together their eyes darted behind him. The snipers that had joined Zenigata’s swat team had lined up their lights on Lupin, and in haste, in miscalculation, and without care, someone had fired.

Everyone was caught in that breath, frozen in that moment of when a bullet struck wrong. The sickening change where the friendly ‘Pop,’ had become a bang.

Yata was waving his hands at his swat team, running towards the snipers, his voice lost in the whirring of the blades of the helicopter. Red little lights danced back onto Zenigata, and a few lights managed to touch Lupin’s skin, but Zenigata would be lost if the snipers fired, and missed another hit. 

‘Missed? No, they didn’t miss. They could have accounted for the wind, for the pressure shifts, even for the damn chopper. And if they couldn’t, they shouldn’t have taken the shot. That's what a sniper does. They were told to fire. Even if Zenigata was in the way. Even if Zenigata would get hurt or die… someone from above probably thought all the better for it too,’ Lupin’s accursed, clever, terrible mind whirled, supplying an explanation in seconds. He didn't want it. He hadn't wanted it. Koichi Zenigata, for all his loveable ways, and moments of struggle… was no fool. Their eyes met, and Lupin knew that Zenigata knew…

This was an end to the game.

Zenigata, as always, wasn’t going to be satisfied unless he got in one more jab. His hand pressed to Lupin’s back, and he pushed, using the momentum of his own body’s collapse to propel Lupin forward into Jigen and Goemon’s arms. “Eyes forward, Lupin,” Zenigata rasped. "Get him out..." Yata was screaming. The copter blades were whirring.

Red lights danced.

And Pop, pop, pop… BANG, went the weasel. Time became real again as Lupin fell into Goemon and Jigen’s arms, and they hauled him into the helicopter, not wasting Zenigata’s final gift. “Don’t look, Lup, Goddammit, don’t look!” Jigen howled, his hands like claws on the back of Lupin’s head. He hadn’t even realized he had been fighting the rescue. Pop, pop, pop, went the guns…

“Lupin! Lupin! Lupin!” Goemon cried, his voice struck with the horror of the moment, his hands on Lupin’s face, trying to get Lupin to look at him. He could not see it, could not hear the final moment, but Lupin still somehow knew Zenigata’s body was getting riddled with holes. That even as the man went down laughing, pleased that he had released his prey so the carrion birds would not peck at it, he was getting shot up simply because some ugly boys wanted to destroy something beautiful. And Lupin’s beautiful inspector, with his always tired eyes, his over large hands, and his thread-bare cut was getting cut down.

“Oh my God! Those bastards!” Fujiko screamed, shaking her head like she wanted to throw a tantrum. She screamed, hateful and ugly, but she was beautiful as always as she cried.

“Lupin!” Someone screamed, and Lupin felt his hands clawing at his own hair as he wished he could just see the moment Pops slid to the ground. He didn’t care how bloody it was, but he wanted to say goodbye… he wanted that last moment with Zenigata. He could still feel Zenigata’s hand on the back of his shoulder, he could still feel that push that had shoved him into his friends’ waiting arms.

The weasel chased the monkeys. Pop. The monkeys chased the weasel. Pop. The weasel chased the monkeys. Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

They would never play again.

[bloodandtreacle]

Whumptober Day 1

Juliet lowered her lips to his ear. “It’s the Duchess.” 

Yannick’s first thought was one of relief. There was an explanation. Juliet was the favorite, the bespoke Romantic, the one Master’s uncle bought him as a housewarming gift when Master inherited the estate. Juliet didn’t get hurt like he did. She was still in her party dress, creamy thighs on display, long blond hair delicately arrayed in soft waves and dripping down over her breasts. Her face was elaborately made up. This was a ball, a real ball, the first one in the circuit that Master had ever hosted for the other nobles. After years of waiting, his turn had finally come, and he was pulling out all the stops. Juliet was fastidiously groomed in preparation for these events, never punished visibly in the weeks leading up to them, a picture of delicate obedience, because she was a display of Master’s prestige and status. So when Nicodème came running in and grabbed Yannick and told him Master needed him bathed and dressed in his finest immediately, no questions permitted, Yannick was justifiably terrified. It had all the trappings of a display of cruelty waiting to happen. Sometimes, when the bartenders cut off the more adamant guests, they would become bored and demand a show. Usually, this would fall on the shoulders of some poor Romantic like Juliet, but when someone especially sadistic or high-ranking was present, it wasn’t uncommon for the host to bring out a less valuable boxie to make an example of. This had never before happened in the Simonet household, at least not under Master’s discretion. But Master had also been a low-ranking member of the nobility. The continent had been easing back into a system of feudalism and monarchy for a few decades now, and House Simonet was regaining its historical standing. Master was a member of the peerage now, Yannick reminded himself. Of course tonight, when all the important people were here, he needed to put on a show. It was just too bad that Yannick was set to be the star of it. Now, tugging at the clothes he’d been forced into, he looked into Juliet’s eyes, as blue and long-lashed and despairing as ever. He’d never been this close to her before. Master had entrusted her with bringing him to the entertaining wing, where he was typically forbidden to go. She should have told him to stop fidgeting. She should have smacked his hands away when they went for his pockets. But she gave him another one of her sorrowful smiles and took her hands in his. He marveled at their softness. He tried to hate Juliet. They all did. She was kept locked away in her tower, and Master spoiled her in all the ways that seemed to matter. She was easy to hate until she was in front of him. Now he just felt guilty, squirming a little under her gaze. He was tall and muscular. She was neither. But he appreciated her power here, and everywhere else. “The Duchess?” he asked. “Which one?” Juliet looked at him with incredulity. 

“The Duchess.”

“Oh. Oh.”

“Yes. Come along, now.” Juliet took him by the shoulder, her gloved fingers ghosting over the fine fabric of his blouse, and that’s how he knew he was done for. Juliet never spared anyone a comforting touch unless she thought their number in the Simonet household was up. Her silk glove might just as well have been a death knell. He flinched instinctually. Pets were killed at these things, as a form of entertainment. Like gladiators in Rome. And the Duchess of House Beauxhomme was too important to disappoint. His heart was telling him to run from this. He had been an athlete, once upon a time, and he might be able to tuck himself in some musty old passthrough until the guests were gone, but he also knew what happened to bad pets that humiliated their owners. 

“Juliet?” he whispered. She turned her head away balefully. “Juliet!” 

“No holding on any longer, Yannick. I’m sorry. I pled on your behalf.”

“You pled?” 

“Yes.” She began walking abruptly and he trotted to catch up. 

“That was kind.”

“Not particularly. Obviously, it didn’t work.” She paused in front of the grand doors, straightened her dress, and pressed her ear against the door. Yannick couldn’t discern anything other than the faint chime of partying—music, chatter, laughter. Juliet furrowed her brow, apparently hearing something specific. “I don’t like that.”

“What?”

“The sound. It’s much too quiet.” He looked blankly at her. “It means they’re agitated and trying to avoid upsetting the Duchess. We’ve kept them waiting far too long,” she explained. Before he had the chance to stop her, she opened the door and whisked him through it to the sound of raucous cheering. 

“Finally!” boomed Master Simonet. “The boy arrives! Why, I was set to thinking you’d run away from me.” Yannick cringed internally. That was an accusation of the highest order, the kind that would send a pet to refurbishment or worse. He tempered himself, aware that Master wasn’t the most important one in the room tonight. He turned to the low, marbled protrusion, a kind of pillared indoor folly set out from the mezzanine, where a woman reclined on a gilded velvet sofa. “Your grace, I present to you my lowly pet for pleasure sport. Shall I provide for you any accoutrements by which you might achieve its terminus?” 

The Duchess took a moment to consider that, swirling her drink, looking into the glass, caressing the stem, and finally swallowing it down with a daintiness Yannick immediately recognized as dangerous. An attendant stepped forward and collected the glass. The Duchess steepled her pinkies in front of her. “That will be adequate. But, Lord Simonet, why is he fully clothed?” There was a mirthful lilt in her voice. 

“What an excellent question. Strip, bitch.” 

[grippedbydestielfever]

Fill for Whumptober Day 1: Race against the Clock and "if only we could hold on"

Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV)

Characters: Tyrion Lannister, Ned Stark, Jaime Lannister, Rhaegal the Dragon

Summary:

Tyrion Lannister does not die in the manner he had long wished. In which Tyrion wakes up in a sky cell in the Eyrie. But this time, he is not alone.

[sanguinemo]

Whumptober 2024 - day 1

Akutagawa’s lung condition had been causing his health to slowly deteriorate for years, and he knew it would soon claim his life, but he still refused to tell anyone. Well, maybe not “anyone”. Gin knew, but that was about it. He didn’t want people to think of him as weak, pity him. His refusal towards vulnerability in any sense had led him to many harmful and definitely not painless scenarios, possibly even causing his condition to worsen, but Akutagawa had always thought it a worthy sacrifice. He’d never thought that his eventual downfall would occur under such conditions, while in the weretigers company no less.

Both Atsushi and Akutagawa had been sent on a mission that day as a team, assigned by none other than Dazai himself. They’d been going on a lot of missions together recently, “fostering a relationship” as their mutual mentor had said. Both were reluctant at first, but overtime they’d grown used to the other's company, enjoying it even (though they’d never admit it out loud). 

The duo had been tasked with locating and eliminating a potential threat to Yokohama, a group that had been causing trouble around the city for a while, and had even killed a few lower level mafia grunts. It shouldn’t have been difficult, but when Akutagawa passed out in the middle of the battlefield, Atsushi panicked.

Atsushi didn’t see him fall, too busy fighting off enemy attacks, but after his foe had been rendered unconscious, he turned around and saw his partner just…..lying there. His confusion quickly turned to panic, not understanding what was wrong. He could feel his heart palpitating inside his chest, and sweat was dripping down his forehead. He wanted to go over, shake Akutagawa awake and scold him for being the cause of this fear, but the few enemies still left were closing in on him, ready to strike.

He’d have to get the mission over and done with, before they did something to Akutagawa in his helpless and unconscious state. His panic would have to wait, he could make sure his partner was okay later. 

Everything was going to be just fine.

[princessallura052]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender (Cartoon 2005), Avatar: Legend of Korra Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jin/Zuko (Avatar), Past Aang/Katara - Relationship, Sokka/Suki (Avatar), Katara & Sokka (Avatar), Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Aang & Zuko (Avatar) Characters: Katara (Avatar), Aang (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar), Sokka (Avatar) Additional Tags: Domestic Violence, Abusive Relationships, Healing, realistic trauma Summary:

Katara has always been someone who has put others before herself without complaints. This had always worked when she was 14 years old. However as 32-year-old Katara, mother to three children flees an abusive relationship with her daughter one cold dark night, everything comes crashing down for her. This is too much to handle, after all, she's only human in the end. Real-life based experience of domestic violence.

@whumptober

[just-a-normal-regretter]

Whumptober Day 1: "if only we could hold on"

Today's focus is on a very old idea of mine featuring OP and BNHA (though mostly BNHA in this drabble sorrryyyy there will be more OP content later down the line lmao) Drabble Premise: Shoto and Sanji have an interdimensional bond with one another since their youth. Things get hectic to say the least. Enjoy! It's game time... o7

[blackseafoam]

Racing the Cold

Whumptober 2024 l Day 1 l Prompt 01: Race Against the Clock l search party l panic attack l "If only we could hold on"

WC: 2037

Warnings: none

Summary: Bo and Rute are travelling as usual when a sudden change in the weather upsets all their plans.

A little snippet from my OCs' backstory. The setting is a fantasy planet with many sentient races. Hugely inspired by The Dark Crystal, Willow, and D&D.

The wide river valley yawned before the weary travelers as they crested the final western ridge of the Ash Tide Mountains.

“We could see the sunset from here if the clouds weren't in the way…” Bo breathed wistfully, her long hair elegantly blew around her face as she hugged a thick afghan around her chilled neck.

“They just might blow away if this wind keeps up.” Rute pondered as he looked at the sky, the clouds in fact were moving at quite a rate.

A single white speck drifted out of the gray above, dancing beautifully on the gale. Spinning and twirling and then perfectly landing on Bo’s nose. They both stared in silent horror, Bo’s eyes crossed and her mouth starting to open.

“Not a good sight Rute”

“A snowflake in in June!?” Rute gasped

“Bad snowflake!” Bo shook her head, it had already melted.

“We’ve gotta go, there should be an inn 4 miles from here.”

The two odd travelers picked up the pace. Rute hiked his leather pack straps high on his thickly furred shoulders so it wouldn’t jostle as he ran, Bo quickly tied her afghan so she could run on all fours again. Her great fists pounded the ground as quickly as her heart beat. “Jump on my back Rute, the extra weight will keep me warmer!” Rute hesitated but agreed, and deftly leapt on to her shoulder 6 feet off the ground in a single leap.

It was a good thing he did so because the trail started to get brushy. No problem for the thick fur and tall stature of a Nushuuk such as Bo.

She could still feel the trail below, but the real problem was above, snow mixed with rain pelted them as they made it to the trees. The temperature was dropping fast especially down here in the valley.

Then Bo began to slow down. Rute jumped off.

“This is bad, Bo…” Rute gritted his teeth

“We can… gasp… get there!”

Rute looked at her face, her eyes already looked tired. Bo coughed, gathered herself, then broke into an even faster lope. So fast Rute was falling behind. She glanced back

“Don’t worry about me!” Rute called. “Just follow the trail, I’ll catch up!”

Bo ran even faster now, splashing through a coating of snow and slush on the forest floor. Her hands and feet numb and stinging with every stride. The light was going away, the sleet stung her eyes, she didn’t see the tree root on the path.

Rute heard a crash, like a tree falling. A sound he knew all too well. His feet clapped on the ground, grunting with every step. “BO!”

It was getting dark, but there was no time to light a lantern. Rute came around a corner and tripped on something, falling face flat in the mud.

If Bo were watching she would have been beside herself with laughter. But she was crumbled at the base of a tree, just beginning to roll on to her side. Mud dripped from her thick fur and the tassels of her woolen garment.

Rute wiped the dirt from his eyes and picked himself up, “Bo!” He rushed to the mound of fur and limbs on the ground.

“I’m… okay.” She groaned.

“No, no, no, don’t rush but you gotta get up Bo. Just don’t do it too fast, okay? I’ll help you.”

“Hahaha..ha” She laughed “there’s brown on your face dude.” She slowly raised her enormous hand to his chin.

Stumbles, grumbles, mumbles… the first signs her body temperature was already dropping. Her cold blood was going in to survival mode.

Rute held up her feet in an effort to get more blood to her head. Things would only get worse if she passed out.

Bo started laughing again “RuuuuuTEH, duuude that tickles duuu… hahaaa!”

Rute was not in a joking mood. Living the actual worst case scenario for this trip. Should he leave Bo and get help? Stay and start a fire? He carefully weighed the options in his head, biting his lip as he still held his closest friend’s feet on his shoulder.

-

Dusty had one last delivery tonight before she could go home. The cart creaked over every pothole and the pony walked with heavy hooves as the mud sucked the speed from their journey. Dusty cursed herself for not bringing her slicker, “it’s always the days you say you don’t need it…” she hissed to herself as she pulled her damp woolen cloak tighter. It was officially dark and she struggled to light a lantern with her cold hands.

“We may just have to spend the night at the ol forks girl” she complained to Ravenna, her faithful white-flecked black pony, who could barely be seen outside the circle of lantern light.

Ravennas ears pricked up and her front glanced to the left, a rather violent spook for the seasoned market nag. Dusty stood immediately at attention, following the pointy ears with her purple eyes.

A shadow. A HUGE shadow.

She shouldered her crossbow and raised her lantern. “Who is that?” As her light revealed the figure a wave of horror washed over her as she didn’t understand what she was seeing. A mound of shaggy fur and giant limbs laid on the ground, and where was its face? Atop an elongated neck that reclined against the base of a tree. The face of a youthful woman with striking angular eyes, she was laughing. Another presence detected, she swung her light to the feet and there stood another furred creature but much smaller and bipedal. His tan coat was dark with the rain and his large spade-shaped ears were turned down. His snout was both feline and primate, his tail twitched with nervous energy as he held up his companions feet.

All Rute could see was a light, he had no idea who bore it. Meanwhile Bo was convinced this was the end and silently accepted her death, her tunnel vision closing in around this beautiful orange glow.

“We need help” Rute pleaded, squinting through the rain.

The light appeared to skip down and was accompanied by the familiar sound of boots slapping the mud. Human boots.

“A Lami and a Nushuuk?” The shadow sounded in disbelief. It was a woman’s voice.

“My name is Rute, we are heading to the Inn. We need help. My friend here can’t handle the cold, her physiology slows and she will go in to hibernation soon if we can’t get her warm!”

The urgency of his tone struck Dusty. “Slow down buddy, lots of long words. I’m just a carrier. I can try to take you in my cart, but the road is soft so no guarantees. Your friend looks quite… heavy.” She lowered her lantern to her side.

Rute nodded urgently, his ears bouncing, “yes yes thank you!” He took up the Nushuuk by the shoulder, hefting her incredibly well for his small frame. Dusty took the other shoulder and they heaved her into the cart, which creaked under the weight.

“If she goes completely under she’ll be that way for months, and we can’t let that happen!” Rute panted from the exertion.

“Alright bud, here’s what we do. Take the lantern and lead the way at a trot, I’ll lead the cart. Take us around the mud, got it?”

“Yes, yes, good plan. Thank you. Thank you so so kindly, you kind kind person. I’m Rute.”

“Routeh, cool, I’m Dusty.” She handed him the rusty lantern and he leaped ahead, filled with new energy.

Rute led the cart around the deepest mud, diligently checking every square inch of the road as quickly as he could. If the cart got stuck it could all be over.

-

The Inn, just ahead. It’s warm lights twinkled through the tree branches. Rute almost forgot what he was doing, his mind already on the next step. The road here was very well packed and Dusty trotted her cart up with ease.

Bo was completely unbothered in the back of the open wagon. Giggling and mumbling to herself. Rute and Dusty helped her off and she stumbled along as the two bipedal assistants held her up on each side. Her staggered words no longer made sense and were regularly interrupted by incoherent chuckles. The door was small for her but they squeezed her in much to the surprise of the innkeeper.

“We need the warmest spot in the house, my friend is… dying” Rute urged. This was not true but saying she was dying was simpler than explaining the hibernation physiology of an out of contact remote species from the other side of the planet.

The innkeeper led them to the roaring hearth in the corner. After having to shoo away a couple of patrons drying their boots they all set Bo against the wall with a wool blanket.

“Don’t go to sleep Bo!” Rute pulled on her scruffy neck fur. Bo’s eyes were heavier than lead, she contently smiled.

“Noaa I ssssthink eh wull acsshully.” Even with her closing lids her eyes twinkled with mischief as she knew she was being annoying.

Rute slapped her.

“Ah!”

“Stay awake Bo! If you go down everything is lost, we’ll never make it in time. Do you want to see your swampland again or not?

Bo grimaced “oww yu hitme”

Bo was touch and go for a long time, it was hard to figure out ways to keep her awake that didn’t involve cold water, which would only make matters worse.

The innkeeper came over with strong coffee and they forced her to drink it.

It was nearly morning when she finally came to her senses again. Propped wearily against the wall, her fur still damp but she was warm enough in a large wool blanket. There was a new presence, someone she did not know but also felt like she had already met. Like someone she had dreamt about. She dropper her elbows on the sturdy wooden table in front of her with a thud, a hot cup of coffee half drunk in front of her.

The stranger didn’t react at first, she was leaned way back in her chair with her feet up on the table. The way your teacher always told you to stop doing lest you fall back and crack your skull on the ground.

With a book in hand her eyes scanned the last few sentences on the page before she looked up. “I take it from the eye contact your lights are back on?”

Words… words were slowly forming in her lagging brain. Eyes? Lights? What was this human talking about? Speaking in riddles, how annoying. Bo sneered.

“I’ll take that as a no…” The purple eyes went back to their book as she flicked the page.

Bo stared in to space, slowly taking in the strange, dim surroundings.

It took another half hour before Bo had half returned to her senses. By that time Rute was back from obligatory dishwashing duty (with no coin he had to work for their food for the evening). He was writing in his journal just at her side, deftly scribbling in that foreign hand. Bo was hypnotized by the movements as her body came back out of near-hibernation.

“Honestly? I’m jealous. Rute here told me all about your biology. Being able to sleep for months at a time during the cold season? No responsibilities? Just dreams and a warm bed?”

“No… not warm.” Bo croaked and reached for her coffee, taking a long whiff before the last bitter dreg. “The cold triggers it and cold we must remain to survive the winter. We become the frozen swamp.”

“So that means… you have to lie in the mud for it to work?”

Bo nodded and took another swig from her mug, suddenly realizing it was empty. Rute deftly switched her empty for his full cup. “And it’s not that great. Usually spend weeks depressed during the transition out of sleep. That’s probably why we are such happy people, we get all our sadness out at once!” She chortled.

Rute was instantly relieved to hear her laugh, they were out of the woods.

[glowingspence]

"Seperated marriage"

Summary:

Derek moves to LA to lead a SWAT team after quitting the FBI, only that he was married to Spencer when he moved. After two years of giving Morgan time and waiting for visits for him, waiting for him to change his mind, trying to adjust to a marriage Spencer knows hasn't been what it used to for a long time now, he travels down there.

(Derek Morgan (criminal minds) and Daniel “Hondo” Harrison (SWAT) are the same person in this)

Note: This was written for the whumptober challenge day 1 with the prompt "if only we could hold on"

Ao3

They are standing in the headquarters of the LAPD swat as Derek is informing them about the new developments on their case when he notices Tan and Streets focus shifting to something that is behind him and Hicks face of recognition when he turns around and sees Spencer standing there behind him. 

“Spence” Surprised Derek lays the tablet away and walks towards his husband. He hasn't seen him in weeks, him being busy with SWAT, Spencer being back with the BAU. “What are you doing here?”

A bit confused by the situation the team eyes them, not knowing who Spencer is but being able to tell that Derek’s entire stance and face changed when he spotted him with them. 

“We need to talk, I can't do it anymore” Spencer whispers as Derek comes closer, tears peaking in his eyes, avoiding Derek’s eyes just like he always does after a longer time apart, 

“What are you talking about?”

“I cant’t- you are here, I am- I just- please” A tear runs down Spencer’s face as he tries to explain why he showed up here. Tries to explain the pain that has been creeping inside of him for the last few weeks. If he can even pinpoint it to the last weeks, maybe even months.

“Okay, take a deep breath-

“I don't want to take a  deep breath, I want you to talk to me- I- I-” 

“We will, just- not here” With a hand on Spencer’s back he guides him away from the eyes of the others, trying to find a quiet corner where he can find out what is going on with Spencer.

“What was that all about?” Street questions the moment they are out of hearing range. 

“Seemed personal so lets not pry” Hicks speaks up, wanting to sush the group before more questions arise. He had met Spencer once and talked to him on one other occasion when he was worried about Derek so he knows what their relationship is but he also knows Derek has not been exactly showing off his relationship status. If anything, he has been hiding it. Ignoring it. Picking up on more than one occasion a guest for the night when they went out together. As far as Hicks is concerned it's their business, he is not about to get involved and he sure doesn't need the drama of the team getting involved in Derek's love life because he couldn't keep his mouth shut. 

“We can talk in here, love” Derek muttered as he guides Spencer into a quiet room that is usually used to speak to family members of the victims or witnesses. He waits till the door behind him is closed before he takes Spencer into his arms, “Now what is going on? What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t-” Spencer presses his face against Derek’s shoulder, “I couldn’t- its to much” “What is too much?” Derek asks him calmly, not holding him back as Spencer tries to get out of the hug. 

“The distance, you being here, me being back home, you not calling me, not texting the whole day- I can't do that anymore”

“Spencer we agreed-” Derek tries to reason as the tears start running down his face. 

“We didn't agree on anything!” He yells, “On nothing. You packed your things, you moved here, you asked me if I want to come along, I- I struggled for a moment and you left! You just left” 

“That's not how it went down, Spence-” “This is how it went down for me!” 

“Okay, please-” Comforting Derek places his hands on Spencer’s arm, knowing full well Spencer is using every strength right now to ball his hands into fists hard enough to press his nails into his palms, “I know this hasn’t been easy on you”

“Do you?”

“Of course I do” 

“Why did you have to leave-” “I didn't leave you, I left-” “The situation, yeah I know” Spencer bites back, “But I am part of exactly that situation”

“I gave you the choice-” “With what time to decide” “Spencer, what is your goal here?” Derek yells back, “We have been doing finde like this for the last two years”

“You have! You have your life, your job, your new friends. I am the one who is being torn in half between my home and you.”

“You decided that as well-”

“You act like you gave me a choice!” “I gave you a choice” Agitated Derek lets go of Spencer who immediately starts scratching his neck, while Derek takes a step back.

“I had- I had no way to decide- no time- I- I- everything I have is back there!” “Well except for me” Derek yells, “You decided against me as well, don't pin that on me” “Okay maybe I did, but this is not the way I can keep going. I didn't marry someone to then live hours apart and see each other when after a hundred days I have the luck to have my sanity questioned enough to have a mandatory break in which you do what? Not take one day off? Leave me in your house alone like I am some unwelcomed houseguest?”

“Well I didn't marry someone who would choose a job over his husband” Derek gives back.

“I didn't, you did” Spencer gives back and hurries out of the room, slamming the door behind him. 

What Derek learned in the last two years that they have been more apart than together is that he at least can let go of Spencer enough to now let him run off until they are both cooled off. So he sits down on one of the chairs in the room. He knew this would come eventually, when they after a week of yelling and tears and suddenly no words at all agreed, that Derek would move to Los Angeles alone while Spencer stays back with the BAU, he had waited for the day this became too much for Spencer. When they lived together, when they were what both of them imagined in their marriage, Spencer was inseparable from Derek. Derek would wake up with Spencer cuddled to his chest, he would always pick the closest seat to Derek no matter where they were, he knew Spencer would not be able to lose that. And as selfish as it sounds, Derek was sure Spencer would just come around, would join him in LA a few months later but after the first few months with daily phone calls and hardly three visits from him, Spencer seemed to be doing alright. At least that was what he was telling Derek. He came to visit him a couple of times, using the days Emily implanted as the time he could spend with Derek and while they always fell back into place again, being inseparable in their home, as Derek sees it, in Derek’s home as Spencer sees it, when Jessica rang at that door when Spencer was there, Derek knew Spencer was not gonna let him forbid him not seeking the same physical comfort in others. And Derek is sure he did, maybe with Luke, maybe someone else, he never asked. And maybe he even did him wrong. 

The team watches Spencer storm out of the precinct, catching a glimpse of the badge on his belt and figuring it must be related to an older case or maybe even to the BAU. It was Deac who eventually walked into the room where Spencer had come out of. “You okay?”

“Not really” Derek speaks up, looking back down on the floor,

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I am not sure you are the right guy for this” Derek tells him with a chuckle, “Believe me”

“Well try me” Deacon closes the door after them, “I am here to help, he seemed pretty upset as he ran out, was he an old friend? Did you work together”

“We did”

“Here in LA?”

“Nah with the FBI” 

“So what is he doing here? Was it about an old case?” Deacon keeps pushing, “Can we help you?”

“This is something I have to figure out alone with him”

“Are you sure?” “Yes” Slowly Derek gets up, feeling the nervous pit in his stomach when he thinks about the fact that he doesn't know where Spencer is. When he is back home he knows the team has always an eye on him, here the team thinks that about him. If they even know that he is here, “Sorry, I need to go. I need to check on him”

“I will tell Hicks” Deacon promises, accepting his fate that he is not going to know what this is about for the moment, “Anything else?”

“Nah, I am gonna have to find him, I will call you if you need any help”

“Don’t hesitate”

“As long as you don’t” Derek mutters under his breath and Deacon pretends that he has not heard it. 

*

“Spencer, call me back if you get this, I am worried, let's talk at home, we can work this out” Derek speaks onto Spencer’s mailbox while leaving the headquarters, as Hicks catches up with him. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah just need to straighten a few things up, sorry about that”

“You are on duty”

“This is more important” Derek tells him, “I need to find him, I didn't even listen to him before I became defensive”

“Is he okay?”

“To be honest, I don't know, we have barely talked for all I know he could be in every mental state there is and I wouldn't have known” Derek starts ranting, “And he comes here and I don't even listen to him”

“He surprised you-” “Well I will be glad if that's the only surprise” Derek mutters and tries calling Spencer again, no one picking up the phone, “If this man would use his goddamn phone”

“We can track it if you want” For a moment Derek hesitates but all the doubts if that's the right way vanish the moment he thinks about how agitated Spencer was, “You do that and I start looking for him”

“Should I involve your team?” “Let's wait with that” 

To Derek's surprise Emily is the one who calls him before Spencer does about an hour after Spencer had left the precinct, “I shouldn't be telling you this but Spencer just called Rossi in tears, talking about how your marriage is not to be safed crying bitterly, please tell me you know where he is”

“I don't, I am looking for him, he isn't at my house, not at the bookstore he goes to, I don't know. “ Panicked Derek gets back into his car, “And our marriage is not over-”

“I know that”

“We just need, we can't go on like this, we are not supposed to be married like this, this is not how we work-”

“Derek I am maybe biased because I see Spencer every day but you are the one that needs to close this gap between you two. No one else can do that. We have been on your team long after you left but even we cant excuse you anymore”

“I am not the only one in this marriage” “You are the one that has been one foot out ever since you moved. And I love you but that's not gonna stop me from calling you an asshole.” Emily tells him as Derek starts the car again, “Now Rossi is in contact with Spencer, he is fine but not thinking straight, he is not melting down but a binge away from panicking, Garcia has his phone tracked and I will send you the location. And if you don’t crawl there on your knees and listen to that man I will come down there personally and pick that kid up and make him sign the divorce paper. Am I being clear?” “Yes Ma’am”

“Good”

Emily was there when they got married, standing there with the biggest smile on her lips, cheering them on as they kissed and Spencer cheeks lit up in bright red as Derek kissed him again just like on their first date. He had loved doing that to him, kissing him casually and when he ignored him or passed it off planting an extra long kiss on his cheek, wanting him to embarrassingly slightly push him away as he grows red. He had loved showing Spencer off in every new precinct they went to, loved how the officers shut up when Spencer talks about the facts he has in his brain and if not making the officers shut up. He had loved having their wedding pictures on the wall and loved watching the video entirely filmed out of Henry's perspective with a camcorder that shows a bit more of JJ than the actual couple. And now, he hasn't worn his ring to a shift here ones, the wedding pictures are still packed in one of the moving boxes and the last time he has kissed Spencer before today was three months ago at breakfast before he hurried to work and was to scared to drive Spencer to the airport in case anybody sees them. 

Garcia comes through with the location, probably because she has his location anyways, something Morgan used to have as well before Spencer got a new phone and he forgot to install it again. “Spencer!” He calls as he sees him walking down a street, “Spencer stop” A bit relieved Spencer looks at him, “What are you doing here, you had me worried sick?”

“I- i- don't know- i left and tried to get to your house and- its all- I don't know”

“Love, you don't make any sense right now, let's just get you in the car and then home okay?” With a firm grip he leads Spencer over the street, guiding him into the passenger seat before buckling him up, “I am so sorry love” He whispers before kissing him on the forehead and getting into the car himself. 

“We will drive home and then we can talk okay?”

“I- I don't want to talk anymore- I need things to change” Spencer speaks up, “I love you but I cant hold onto this anymore”

“I know”

“Do you? Because you have done nothing to fix it”

“I- I don't know it was this bad-” “Didnt you feel it too?” Spencer gets agitated again, “You are supposed to miss me too, you are supposed to love me-” “Can we please just get home first?”

“No, I need an answer now” Spencer insists, “Can we fix this?”

“We always can”

“You need to want it too?”

“I don't know what you want me to say” There is a long moment of silence in which Spencer cries quietly before wiping the tears of his face with his hands, “Spencer-”

“Alright” “Alright what?”

“Alright”

“Spence-”

“Just tell me”

“Tell you what?”

“What- how many were there? Do the others know? What- What is there you do because I don't believe you don't hurt as much as I do”

“I do hurt but you are right there were others” Derek confesses and turns the engine back off, “The others dont know. I came here and pretended everything was different. They don't know who you are, they don't know why I left, they don't know anything, there were a few woman and man I have slept with and one woman i slept with more than once but that's it”

“Thats it” Spencer mutters, “You asked” He shrugs at that, “Don't tell me you haven't been sleeping around back home”

“I havent” “Right” Derek scoffs, “At least I am honest with you”

“We are not going to work this out are we?”

“I dont think so” For the first time since Derek has met Spencer he looks at him and does not want to kiss that face at least a hundred times, wrap him into his arms, never let him go. For the first time he looks at him and he feels nothing apart from a breathtaking pain in his chest, “You at least feel this stupid pain too?”

“Have been for weeks” Quietly Spencer plays with the wedding ring on his finger, “I can't take it off”

“I know, you never have” “Would it be weird if I leave it on?”

“No”

“Where is yours?”

“Don't do that to yourself kid” He smiles at that, 

“Guess now you can call me that again” Spencer jokes, 

“Not a chance in hell, it was a slip up, you will always be my love i am not gonna change it” 

*

“You okay?” Deacon questions when Derek arrives at work the next day, looking like he feels.

“Not at all”

“We are here for you” He repeats, 

“Well I was an asshole and now I’ve gotta deal with it” Derek tells him, “Have you ever thought about leaving Annie?” “Not a second” The answer came without missing a beat. “Why?”

“I told you I am not sure you are the one who wants to hear about this” Derek reminds him and continues walking towards the locker room. “And again, I am here for you” He insists, 

“The man that showed up here yesterday was my husband” Derek confesses, “Well soon to be ex-husband” For a moment Deacon looks at him in shook, “We have been together for 9 years, its over, it was long overdue”

“Overdue?”

“Yes” Derek tells him “Now I don't want to talk about this any more, I will be fine”

*

“Oh Spence” JJ picks him up at the airport as he comes back, “I am so sorry”

“I knew this would happen”

“Doesn’t make it any easier” “He seemed so fine”

“He always does, you know he is hurting just as much.”

*

They don't reach out for the next week, and the week after that and even the third week gets left behind without a word until Spencer is standing in the conference room with the others, discussing the new case when Emily starts looking past him, her eyes lighting up “Derek!” She exclaims and Spencer immediately feels a relief coming through his body. That they didn’t talk, Rossi told him, does also mean they are both not ready to get onto the final steps of handing in the papers. Of really saying goodbye to each other. And he had been right. After the first anger at Derek's inability to understand where Spencer was coming from Spencer had spent the days thinking about ways to fix the situation again. 

“Well is this a sight I miss” Derek tells them looking around the conference room he had been sitting in way to many years, “Hey” He speaks more quietly as he approaches Spencer, “We need to talk” Comforting placing a hand on his back, “Again”

“Let me finish this up and then I will be with you” “Alright pretty boy” With a smile he walks to an empty chair, “Mind if I sit in on this one?”

“If you can handle it” Rossi jokes and Spencer gets back to talking over the case, his hands visibly shaking, eventually so much that he has to put the papers down in order to continue because he couldn't read anything on them this way anyway. “Let us finish this, you two get out of here”

“Wheels up in 20, you two better make it quick”

“We will” Derek promises them and leaves the room after Spencer, walking the hallways down to his old office that is currently unused. “Feels strange being back” 

“Especially here” Quickly Spencer glances over to the couch where they spend more than a handful of times relieving from a case, “You can't go through with it either”

“No chance” “But we can also not go on this way”

“I know”

“You are not going to move back either”

“No” Derek admits, “Even being here makes me think I forgot how to breathe, I can't- this is not something I can handle in my life anymore.” 

“And I am?” Spencer whispers.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well me, me and my- my habits and just me- you didn't just flee from a job and a home you also fled fled from me” 

“I know but it was not because of you, I promise.” Derek insists, reaching out to hold Spencer’s hand. “I know our marriage isnt what it used to be and I fucked up but I think we deserve a second chance. Not here-”

“But in LA”

“We will find a house, you can take lighter work at a university, consulting on our cases, we spend days with a routine not flying away to different cities and being ripped out of our regular lives. We deserve to spend the evening on the couch arguing about what movie we watch and who is going to pick up groceries on their way home” Spencer smiles at that.

“Well you already have a house-” He whispers, “It just needs a few more books in them”